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Legacy of the Witch House (TheCorsair and Xanaphia)

Frowning at his phone and Marta’s, Pete checked his calendar. His doppelgänger’s calendar. It looked more or less the same as what he remembered from the phone he’d left at home. More or less. But there was an entry for tonight, bearing just the cryptic phrase “Marie & Brian, OC”.

“Think it’s related to your stuff?” Marta wondered, before speculating aloud about their shared dreams.

“It’s... possible?” He sighed. “I guess. I mean, it sure looks that way. But, uhm...”

A mixture of shame and jealousy surged through him. If they weren’t real, then Marta had actually fucked Dr. Brown and the rich donor of hers. Or... had they raped her? Could sex be consensual if you thought it was a dream? And... shit. He’d fucked Marie. And that rich woman.

“Does any of that make sense to you?” She asked, interrupting his train of thought. “If I am right, it means our alts were like the cult leaders? Which means, if we are going to keep up this masquerade, we are going to oversee whatever is happening tonight.”

“Shit,” Pete breathed.

She shrugged, and pushed her meal aside. “Or we can gate to somewhere new before then.”

“Are we ready, though?” He frowned. “Then again, ready or not, it might be for the best. We don’t know enough about this cult to fake it, do we? Hell, we don’t even know what they’re doing.” He frowned, and finished his suddenly tasteless sandwich. “I mean, he might have notes somewhere in the apartment. If we want to gamble with getting enough time to try and finish shopping.”
 
“We knew we couldn’t stay here long.” Marta started, caressing his hand with her finger tips. “We knew that, at a moment’s notice, we could be forced to flee again.”

There were essentially homeless. Anchorless, drifting between worlds. Maybe that’s why it was easier for their alts to go through with the ritual, to partake of the blood. Because the alternative was uprooting everything she’d built over her entire life. Because the safety of the group appealed more than the isolation of life on the run.

“We don’t know enough about this cult to fake it, do we? Hell, we don’t even know what they’re doing.” He frowned, and finished his suddenly tasteless sandwich. “I mean, he might have notes somewhere in the apartment. If we want to gamble with getting enough time to try and finish shopping.”

She dug the notebook out of her purse and handed it to Peter. “I doubt it does you any good, but… well it’s hundreds of pages of notes.” She opened it back to the page she had marked, the one where she’d begun diagraming the sentences in an attempt to identify parts of speech and syntax patterns.

“I have to wonder if it’s in… What did Sebelah call it again?” She stared out the window, over the river, deep in thought. Deep in memory, of the visit to the puritan woman, and the ritual they performed, and the passion that followed. “Aklo. That ancient language she spoke of.”
They paid the bill, and headed back to the car. “Why don’t we head home and see if we can’t find some notes or other hints that could help you tonight. If not, we can start planning our next jump. “

They made a couple stops on the way home, pulling out as much money from their respective accounts, which still didn’t feel like enough to Marta. They had less than a thousand dollars on hand. Perhaps money was a silly concern, while they possessed the ability to travel with the gates, allowing them access to any secured place they could imagine. It would take almost no effort to rob a back, after all, and be in and out of the safe within minutes. It wasn’t like the kind of money they could steal from a bank would be missed, really, and it was ensured anyways, Marta reasoned. It wasn’t like they would be stealing a person’s hard-earned money.

It was amazing how easily morals could be shed after coming face to face with one’s own corpse.
 
He let Marta drive so he could try Googling for “Aklo”. Nothing came up, under any spelling variation he could think of. Nothing useful, anyway - he doubted a Japanese rapper had any secrets to offer. Then, as he handed his debit card over so she could empty his checking account, he tried searching his phone.

“Well, shit,” he blinked. “I’ve got something. Notes the other Pete took, up on Google docs. Let me see...”. He scanned rapidly, chewing his lip. “Aklo is an alphabet, used by two apparently related proto-Sino-Tibetan languages - looks like the other you footnoted that with a ‘maybe’ - called Xu and Chian.” He hesitated. “Different font color, now. Says Xu was the primary language of... Lomar? And Chian was spoken in Hyperborea, and both evolved from an older Lemurian language?”

Leaning back in his seat, he took his debit card and tucked it away. “I feel like I’ve taken a batshit crazy left turn into a Tolkien LARP.”

They took cash advances on their credit cards as well, on the way home. Bringing the bundle of cash they had to nearly two thousand dollars in twenties. It looked like a lot, but was it? For two homeless fugitives? “We should probably try to convert this to gold, or silver,” he remarked. “Even another similar Earth might be different enough for this stuff to look counterfeit. Although I guess we could always take a chance on popping back here to spend it, if necessary.”

The apartment was blissfully empty when they got back. Blissfully, because he’d been tensed for an encounter with more thems. Airdropping the Google docs link to Marta, he fired up his own laptop and began reading a file his doppelgänger had labeled ‘Nov 1 Rite’.

He pushed it away with a sigh. “Maybe we’d better bail now,” he grimaced, looking at his watch. “We’ve got... five hours until the cult meets. And this... this is a doozy.” He looked up, staring at Marta. “He calls it an Outer Circle Rite, whatever that means, and we’re initiating, uhm...” he glanced at the screen. “Bill. Marie’s boyfriend. A lot of it looks pretty standard Wiccan stuff, with some bloodletting.” He paused. “Oh, and Bill fucks you, symbolically entering into the Circle.”
 
“Bill?” Marta repeated. “What kind of twenty-year old is named Bill? Some greasy-bearded hipster? Or is she dating some old guy?

“Oh, and Bill fucks you, symbolically entering into the Circle.”

“Ugh, no fucking way,” she protested. There was a chance this Bill was attractive –Marie was, after all, and people usually picked similarly attractive people to pair with. But even with that possibility, Marta couldn’t wrap her head around fucking some other guy, some guy she’d never met before. That just wasn’t who she was, weird sex dreams – and damn, she hoped those were just dreams– aside. Besides, she was with Peter, and he was the only one she wanted right now. Especially after everything that happened with his alt.

“Alright, why don’t we check out the next reality, and see what it’s like. The difference in our coordinates and the coordinates for this dimension is 10, so why don’t we change it by another 10, see where it takes us?” Inputting the alter digits, Marta hit the button to activate a portal. It flickered to life before then, showing a near identical vision of Peter’s apartment before them. Then, before either of them could take a step towards it, much less step through, it flickered out, leaving only an after image behind.

“The hell?” Marta asked, swishing her hand through the space where the portal had been. Nothing. Again she hit the activate button, but this time, nothing happened. She turned towards Peter, holding up his alt’s phone, “Am I doing it wrong?”

She was about to hand it over to peter when she noticed a tab on the app that Peter’s didn’t have. Energy. She noticed this time, in particular, because it flashed a little red exclamation point beside it. Selecting that tab opened a new screen, with an image similar to a battery. This battery was empty. “Do we need some sort of energy to work the portals? We never needed that before.”
 
Pete took the phone. “Not that I know of,” he said, frowning at the display. “I mean, not beyond the battery power to run the calculations to open the gate.” He poked at the display. “And I don’t recognize this at all. I guess our alts were further along on this gate thing than us?”

That was a disturbing thought, but it also made some sense. They were “in the club” with the other alts, and some of them had looked decades older. They probably shared research data.

Research data.

“Let me check the change logs,” Pete said, pulling his laptop over again. “I try to keep reasonable notes on the updates I make. Hopefully my alt did as well.” He clicked through folders, and pulled up the source documents. After a minute of reading, he found himself scratching his head. “Version 1.1.33.6, incorporated virtual Scrying of Nach-thal to monitor orgone depletion..? What?”

More typing followed, as he set Windows to searching the laptop for ‘orgone’. Then he read more. “Hmmm... Okay. I... think I get it,” he finally said. “According to the other me, we fuel the gates.” Drumming his fingers, he looked up at Marta. “This... orgone stuff is some sort of field, a, uhm...”. He checked the Word document again. “Universal organizing field attracted and absorbed by living things.”

He blinked. “Wow. That sounds stupid. But the notes here say that it fuels the gates and other ritual workings, and that it takes time to recharge. As much as a week, if you’re fully depleted. Although, uhm, sex can speed that up by a couple of days. And...”. He frowned. “Ritually killing something can unleash its accumulated orgone all at once.”

His expression was bleak as he looked up again. “So, we’re stuck here. For nearly a week.” He swallowed. “Why don’t we load up the car and get the hell out of Arkham now? Go hide for a week, and skip to another world?”
 
Marta –the other her– had handwritten notes in another notebook. In English this time, fortunately. Her own research into orgone, based on historical texts and first-hand accounts.

“It’s not merely sex, otherwise we could charge each other up. Sex acts as a sort of transference, balancing the levels of both –or all– of the participants. The rites draw orgone from the participants as well. They built this Outer Circle as a way of empowering themselves…”

She turned the page, and kept reading. “So the onyx stones act as storage. A battery, if you will, to hold this orgone. Just so happens these ones,” she tugged on her necklace to demonstrate, “are already depleted. But we will likely want to hold on to them, beyond trying to blend into the Circle.”

“So, we’re stuck here. For nearly a week.” He swallowed. “Why don’t we load up the car and get the hell out of Arkham now? Go hide for a week, and skip to another world?”

Marta frowned, unable to believe what she was about to say next, “We have to participate, tonight. We can’t risk being stranded in this world for a week, when we know the Circle could come
for us at any time. At least this way…” She sighed, and closed the book.

“Look, I don’t want to do this either, but the sooner we have the orgone to leave this world, the safer we will be. Then… we can spend a week recovering in the next world. Because we will be somewhere completely random, someplace the Circle can’t easily track us.”
 
“No, fuck that!” Pete snapped. “There has to be another way! We can...”. His voice trailed away as he stared at his screen. Ritual sacrifice. That was the only other way the people who knew about this stuff knew of to recharge quickly. That, or a gift from a god.

He didn’t know any gods. And he was certain he wasn’t up to killing someone in cold blood.

“Fuck,” he repeated, taking Marta’s hand. Anxiety clenched his stomach, and he swallowed hard. “You... you’re sure? We can run, hide in the woods?”

-*-

In the end, though, they couldn’t. Their absence would be suspicious, and suspicions could bring the Inner Circle sooner. So they hunted through the notes and records of their doppelgängers for the ritual script, and worked to memorize their parts.

It was simple enough. They represented the figures of a god and goddess in the rite, and presided. The high priest, whoever that was, did most of the actual work. For most of it, they would just have to look the part.

-*-

“All right, I think I’ve found everything,” Pete said, dumping a pile of stuff on the coffee table. “Let’s see... here’s the necklace and bracelets you’re supposed to wear, both of them.” He shoved them over, one at a time. “Along with the onyx jewelry.” He lifted a second necklace of heavy gold. “And this one’s mine.”

Bundles of mostly white cloth were next. “And our outfits.” He grimaced. “Based on the chest I found them in, I would have guessed that our doppelgängers were just into kinky Egyptian role-playing if I hadn’t read that script.”

He sat, staring at the clothes for a moment. Then he took Marta’s hand. “You’re sure? We can still run.”
 
“I don’t know. Maybe if Bill is old or ugly.” Marta forced herself to laugh at her lame joke, but it came out clipped. Squeezing Peter’s hand, she released a long breath. “Think I am allowed to be drunk for this?”

She did drink a glass of wine, anyway. Because it was all she could do to settle her nerves while she changed into her costume. Pete looked good in his outfit, as silly as it was. Which was unfortunate, because she’d much rather fuck him tonight instead of some random guy.

The Outer Circle gathered, and it was the same people as the dreams. Her sister, his colleagues, even Luis and Selena. Holy hell, had that dream about the orgy been real? Was it this world’s Pete and Marta that joined them? Marta tried to put it out of her head as the rite began, and Marie approached her and Peter with her boyfriend. Bill wasn’t bad looking, at least. Hell, he was the sort of guy she would have hooked up back in college. Though, in his defense, distinctly less AXE.

Dr Brown presided over the ritual, opining on the mysteries of the universe that she and Pete had discovered. Was that how the alts had recruited everyone into the circle? Did they know the alts were using them for orgone? Or had opening the gates made their alts so arrogant, they believed themselves gods?

Dr. Brown poured a glass of wine and accepted the onyx knife from Peter. He opened Bill’s hand down the palm, just like the scar she’d given herself, cutting veggies at Peter’s. Just like the scar on Peter’s hand, that the other her had given him. Blood trickled from Bill’s palm into the cup, invisible as the dark wine absorbed it. Marta took the first sip, grateful she couldn’t taste it over the alcohol, and passed the goblet over to Peter.

While the rest of the circle drank from the goblet, she stepped into the middle, towards the altar. Two other women joined her, Marie and Adrianna, her TA. They disrobed her, their hands soft on her skin, but she could distinctly feel the scar each woman bore on her palm. Bill was already ready for her, already nude with hard cock, and his blood smeared her cheek as he pulled her into a kiss. She lay back against the altar, the stone cold against bare skin, but that was a momentary discomfort once Bill stepped between her thighs.

A gasp burst from her lips as Bill entered her, tight walls unwilling to take him. Marta tried to relax, tried to just let this happen, but she kept thinking about Peter. Kept worrying about Peter, and if he was mad at her for choosing this, or if he was upset about watching this. Was it cheating if she only wanted to harvest Bill’s orgone energy? The thoughts chased themselves through her mind, distracting her from Bill’s rhythm inside her or the weight of his body atop hers.

Eventually, her body lubed itself and opened for him, taking his full length with every thrust. “Goddess,” he gasped, driving harder and faster inside her, until she cried out as well. His thrusts came faster now, his grip digging into her hips. He moaned out his pleasure, and she answered him in gasps, clenching against him in hopes that he would finish faster. Two more strokes before he hilted himself inside her, spraying his cum against her fall wall. More blood smeared her skin as he caressed her, and pulled her into another kiss.

The stone, which had been cool against her skin, was now warm. Was that the orgone? Was it enough? God, she hoped so.
 
He wished he could have had a glass or two of wine as well, to kill the butterflies in his stomach. Maybe being a little drunk would have helped make this easier to take. But he was the driver, and the last thing they needed now was legal trouble. Even a simple DUI.

The opening of the ritual wasn’t bad, really. A lot of new agey gibberish mingled with cosmology and astrophysics. Dr. Brown’s oblique hints about the true nature of the cosmological constant and the nature of the Great Attractor set his hair on edge, though. He made them sound personified somehow, his professorial voice and academic credentials making the claims feel more plausible.

And he gave the credit for this knowledge to Marta and himself. Did he want to track down his doppelgänger’s research?

But the time for woolgathering was past. He gave the knife to Dr. Brown, who preented it to Marta, who sliced Bill’s hand and mixed his blood with wine. When the cup came to him, after Marta and Bill sipped it, he tried not to flinch.

And then, Bill fucked Marta.

Pete tried to relax, tried not to show his helpless anger at what was happening. She had to do it, he knew. Both for them to survive the night, and because they needed to accumulate enough orgone to open a new gate as soon as possible. But that didn’t make it easy to watch Bill grunting away, to watch Marta’s back arch, to see Bill’s face as he climaxed.

The worst part was that he felt himself getting hard from the sight. It made him feel like a real piece of shit.

Bill slipped out of Marta, and Marie dropped to her knees before him. The bearded man gasped as she swallowed his softening cock, deliberately sucking Marta’s juices and his cum from him.

Shit! Was this going to..? As he watched, Marta’s TA knelt between her thighs. Fuck, there was more? But then, his view was obscured by Lena, who knelt before him and began unbuckling his loincloth with practiced fingers. “Please,” she breathed, fingers curling around his hard cock, “allow me to receive the blessing of the Gods.”

Biting his lip and thinking of their need for orgone, he nodded his head.
 
Marta hadn’t climaxed while fucking Bill, but that wasn’t a slight against him. She didn’t want to fuck him in the first place, so anyone would have had trouble overcoming that resistance with physical sensation. But the frustration left an ache in her gut.

She wanted Peter. Physically, of course, but more than just sex. She wanted his forgiveness and his understanding and his possessiveness.

But it wasn’t Peter that slipped between her thighs, but Adrianna. Her TA, whom she hadn’t allowed herself to view as attractive. And skilled, as her tongue explored deep into Marta’s swollen cunt, before teasing her clit gingerly.

Still, as good as Adrianna felt, she wanted Peter. And she wasn’t the only one, apparently, since Lena was already undressing him and stroking his cock. It felt like a betrayal to see them like that. Even if she knew logically why he would fuck Lena right now, that logic was distant to the emotional gut punch of seeing her wrap her lips around his hard cock.

So she turned away, as if the reality of Peter and Lena together would go away if she didn’t see it. Turned away, only to come face level with another cock. She didn’t recognize it, until she looked up and sea Thomas Lancaster standing over her. Great, her boss. As if this entire night weren’t awkward enough.

But… well, she wasn’t going to have to see him –or anyone here– again after tonight, at least not this version of him. And each person she fucked meant more orgone, which would keep her and Peter safer in the long run. Marta couldn’t be sure if reason made her open her mouth and swallow Thomas’ cock, or Adrianna’s skilled attention, but by now it was easier not to care. With her head hanging over the edge of the altar, Thomas had easy access to fuck her throat, fitting his full length in her mouth. Adrianna, meanwhile, fucked her dripping slit with two longer, slender fingers, and sucked hungrily on her throbbing clit.
 
The worst part, Pete decided, was the orgasms. Women could fake them, but -to the best of his knowledge, at least - men couldn’t. So he climaxed as Marta’s sister sucked him off, and the physical pleasure mingled uncomfortably with the way Marta averted her gaze. And with the sight of her department head offering her his cock as some woman - her TA, maybe? - crouched between her spread thighs. This had been hot, when it had been a shared dream. But the reality was terrifying, because if they did have sex it might be weeks before they escaped.

If they didn’t have sex, they might not escape ever. Because who knew what would happen if they were discovered?

He climaxed twice more that night, emptying himself into a postdoc who thrust back against him as she swallowed Jeff’s shaft, and then again across the belly and breasts of Selina as Dr. Freeman pounded into her ass. That was when he heard Marta climax as well, and he tried to swallow the guilt and jealousy as he saw Luis’ hips rolling as he thrust ito her.

Finally, finally, it wound down. Dr. Brown gathered the faithful into a circle around them. “The Circle is ended this night, but never broken. Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again.”

“Blessed be,”the faithful chorused. Pete managed to mouth the words as well.
 
There were no visual signs, but her necklace pulsed as Marta fingered the stone. A steady, strong rhythm that matched the beating of her heart. Did that mean it was full? Surely it was at least enough. It had to be, for all they endured.

There wasn’t much conversation in the car ride back home, just a quiet tension that built between them. Should she apologize? It was her idea after all, as much as she wanted to say the situation forced them. Was it better not to dwell on what they’d done, either tonight, or the night before? Just look forward, move forward, and keep out of the grasp of the Circle? How far could her comfort bend in the name of survival?

When they got home, they entered the bathroom together, because both of them were grimy with sweat and other fluids. Marta removed her costume mechanically, pushing back against the dull ache that clung to her muscles. The spray of the shower caught her attention, and she turned to see Peter step in. The sight of him brought back images burnt in her mind, of Lena and Peter together, and a possessive flame ignited within her. Need surged in her kiss, slamming his back into the tile with a wet slap.

“Please…” she breathed, that lone word standing in for greater meaning than she could begin to express at the moment. All she could do now was beg. Beg for understanding, beg for forgiveness, beg for comfort of his touch. “Please…”
 
The hiss of the shower was shockingly loud in the bathroom ncomfortable silence. He hadn’t said much during the drive home. What was there to say, after all? Hey, I’m sorry I fucked your sister? That didn’t seem to cut it at all. And even though it had been necessary, both to recharge and to stay alive, that didn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at his guts.

He climbed in, letting the hot water - hot enough to nearly scald him - sluice over his body. Maybe if he scrubbed enough, he’d start feeling clean again? He hoped so. But as he reached for a washcloth, Marta slammed him back against the tile, arms wrapping around him, mouth hot and desperate on him. “Please,” she breathed, agony in the word. “Please.”

He kissed her back, suddenly desperate for her. Her presence. Her understanding. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, his words battling hers as he kissed her. “God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Marta.” He could feel his tears trickling down his cheeks, mingling with the steam and spray. “I’m sorry.”

His hands slid over her back, sliding on s thin layer of water as he tried to pull her closer. They cupped her rear, moving her against his hardening cock. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, nipping at her throat as he pushed her into the wall.

Her body slid over his as he lifted her, and a gasp escaped him as he pushed into her. “I need you,” he groaned, holding her pinned against the wall with his weight and his hands and his shaft. “You. Nobody else. Just you.”
 
“Yours, Peter,” Marta exhaled, curling her toes as he hilted himself into her depths. ”All yours. Only yours. Only you.”

Tender muscles gripped him, throbbing and wanting more. Wanting him. The one who wanted her. Not as a conduit for cosmic power. Not as the newest recruit into a reality spanning cult.

Her release was emotional as much as physical, sobbing and kissing him with salty lips. Her thighs tightened around him as he pumped his climax into her, his pleasure a warm comfort she craved. He filled her, completed her, until there was no more room for apologies or need or guilt. All that separated them now were three little words, repeated in time with their trembling desire.

After all that, they still didn’t disentangle, not completely. They remained in closed contact, cleaning each other and drying off, to dress for bed. Holding Peter close, with his back against her breasts and her arm around his chest, until dreamless sleep took her.

It was another late morning for them, exhaustion catching up to them. Soon, they’d leave this world for the unknown, to stay one step ahead of the Circle. To escape what they’d done last night. So, even after she’d woken up, Marta stay cuddled up to Peter

The morning was spent packing up the supplies they’d collected into the new car. Marta had also made sure to pack all the notes the other her had left behind. Perhaps in the next world, they’d have time to go through it all.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice made her flinch, as much as the words did. Because it was a familiar voice, even if it sounded different coming from someone else. She turned, and swallowed down the shock of seeing another version of herself standing there. An older version of herself, wearing glasses, beside another Peter. Presumably older as well, but he hardly looked it. And both bore onyx jewelry, of course.

“We are headed up to a cabin. Thought it might be nice to get out of the city for the weekend.” Older Marta narrowed her eyes, disapproving or suspicious, and reminding her of her mother enough for loss to pang her heart and catch in her throat.

“We’ve been waiting to hear back about the newest recruits, from dimension TCX5648. Were you able to bring them into the Circle? Or do they need to be handled?”

The innuendo chilled her. “They… need more time. It was quite a shock, after all, to learn about the existence of the circle.”

For the span of three heart beats, Marta was certain the older version of herself saw through the lie. Saw them for who they were, the imposters. Instead, she nodded once. “The new moon is in four days. If they don’t join us in blood by then, they will need to be eliminated. And that will fall to you. We cannot risk everything we’ve all built together on one stubborn pair.”
 
It was a relief not to dream, after the events of the last day. It was more of a relief to wake up next to Marta - his Marta, not a murderous imposter - and to be able to just wrap himself in her love. She curled into him and they held one another, embracing a happy diction of everything being happy and normal. Sadly, it couldn’t last.

They showered quickly and ate a heavy breakfast of eggs and bacon and toast, because there was only so much food they could pack. And then they packed quickly, folding clothes and stuffing them into suitcases, then stacking laptops and useful books in boxes. “Useful” as defined by the doppelgängers, of course. Peculiar old books, or photocopies of old books, with difficult names. Necronomicin and Unausprechlicen Kulten and Cultes des Gules and the like. Books with post-it note bookmarks.

As he taped the last book, he heard the front door open. Marta, no doubt...

“That’s a lot of packing for a weekend away.”

Shit. That wasn’t Marta. It was his voice. It was him, although a decade or so older, looking oddly like his older brother. And there were two Martas- his Marta, looking stressed, and an older Marta with her figure softened and curved by the addition of a few pounds. Middle-age spread looked good on her, he thought wildly as his thoughts raced.

“Long weekend, really,” he heard himself say.

“Oh?” The older version of himself replied, looking around.

“Yeah. It’s been a rough few weeks,” he said, honestly. “A change of scenery would be good. But you know how it is.” He nudged the sealed box with his foot. “Work still calls.”

The older Marta nodded understanding. “Yes. Marta was telling us that the new couple are still... hesitant.”

“Uhm... yeah.” Pete watched Marta’s expression. “They’re a bit, uhm, overwhelmed? Or... frightened?”

The older Pete helped himself to a Coke Zero. “Makes sense. Most of us are, at first.” The bottle hissed as he opened it. “Hell. Marta and I were freaked out when we learned about the Circle.” He grinned. “And so were you and Marta. But it’s the best thing for them.”

“For all of us, really,” the older Marta agreed, getting a bottle as well, and taking a seat at the table. “We’re all safer.”

“Yeah, of course.” He tried to sound enthusiastic. “But, uhm, have any of... us, well, refused?”

The older Pete frowned at that. “Is that likely?”

“I... no?” Pete swallowed nervously.

“The Circle binds us together, Pete,” the older Marta said, as if reminding him. “Binds is all as one, empowering and protecting us. If they won’t join...” she shrugged and drank her Coke. “Well, their flesh and blood must join the Circle. One way or another.”
 
It should have been more interesting to meet an older version of themselves. It should have been an opportunity to ask them questions. Had they been together that whole time? Had they married? How had their relationship evolved in that time? Did they have kids?

Of course, the hypothetical answers to that question were horrifying, given what they’d already seen of the Circle. This version of themselves was glimpse into the future, a future both of them reviled and rejected.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Marta insisted, picking up another box to carry out to the car. “After all, we all joined.”

Older Peter nearly slammed down his drink in a haste, and made towards her. “You shouldn’t be lifting all that, not in your condition. Let me get it.”

Marta didn’t even think to resist as he took the boxes from her. “Huh?”

“I know.” Older Marta laughed, and shook her head. “He’s being ridiculous. You aren’t even that far along! But trust me, no matter what you say, Peter’s going to dote and fret over you. Just let him spoil you.”

Marta shrugged, realization dawning on her. “If you say so.”

“How are you doing, anyways?” Older Marta took a sip of her drink. “No morning sickness, right?”

“Nope,” she answered, honestly for once, and sank down onto the couch.

“Most of us didn’t, luckily, but Marta from BHD435 had it pretty bad. She had to be hospitalized, poor thing.”

She offered a sympathetic smile, “Yeah that sounds rough.”

Peter and Older Peter finished packing the boxes in the car by now “We’ll be by on Monday to discuss the newest couple, if you haven’t convinced them by then.” Older Marta joined him in standing, and he pulled a silver slat like a hand mirror from his pocket. A holographic interface projected from the screen, and after a few indecipherable finger motions, he opened a new gate. “Enjoy your weekend.”

They disappeared through the portal, and after two more heartbeats, Marta sank back into the cushions and released a long breath. “What the fuck?”
 
The shakes began as soon as the portal closed. Not bad shakes, but enough that he had to put his Coke down. “Shit,” he breathed, fisting his right hand and gnawing on the knuckle. “Shit.”

“What the fuck,” Marta agreed.

“That was fucking close,” Pete managed, taking a deep breath. “We need to go. Now.” He swiped at his phone, opening his doppelgänger’s gate app and resting his thumb on the pad. The... mana bar, he decided, showed about three-quarters full. “And I think we can get really out.”

His legs felt a little shaky as he stood up, but they held. Forcing a smile, he offered Marta a hand. “Come on. We’ve got a week before they come back. Let’s make tracks.”

-*-

Forty-five minutes later, they were driving along a narrow gravel road in the Sentinel Hill State Park, testing the shocks on the hybrid SUV. It handled well enough, which was a small blessing. Pete drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying not to feel guilty. Sure, they were stealing it. But, we’ll, it was this or get gutted and eaten by insane parallel universe versions of themselves.

“All right,” he finally said, letting the SUV roll to a stop. “I don’t see anyone around. Care to do the honors?” He chewed his lip as Marta tapped at the app, then drew in a deep breath as the gate opened. Beyond, the randomized destination waited, fat snowflakes drifting downward.

He released his breath, and put the car in gear. “Here we go.”
 
The portal opened to nearly the same location they’d left, in the new world. Nothing immediately jumped out at them as different, and the English on the traffic signs was perfectly recognizable. So they drove about 15 minutes down the highway, to a cabin resort she recalled from their original world. Luckily, it was in nearly the same place, even if it boasted a different name.

She’d come here a few times with Nkendi -Sebelah. Well, not here, technically, but the counterpart from their home reality. TCX5648, or so the older couple had called it. Regardless, they enjoyed spending a weekend here a couple times a year, whenever they needed to unwind and reconnect. And about now, she and Peter needed this break from everything.

Check in went smoothly. Unpacking the car, however, was another thing entirely, and after an hour they agreed on a lunch break. Sandwiches and chips, and a bottle of beer a piece. Even that, however, could only scratch the surface of their tension.



“You’re going to love this place,” Marta insisted, sidling up even closer to Peter. The late autumn chill was the perfect excuse to snuggle in close, even if their bulky jackets got in the way. “The stars are gorgeous up here.”

They entered the rental office together, and the doorbell announced their arrival. The clerk glanced up at them, and then did a double take. “Was there a problem with the cabin?”

“Problem?” Marta repeated.

“I mean, you just checked in an hour ago. Did you need extra sheets?”

“We just got here,” she asserted, seeming as confused as the proprietor. A sidelong glance at Peter revealed his confusion as well.

“Were you meeting your sister up here?” The proprietor laughed, nervously, “Another woman just came in an hour ago and rented a cabin. Looks just like you.”

Marta tried not to roll her eyes, hoping this wasn’t a case of “all you Latinas look alike.” Or, maybe it was better if it was? Perhaps a little casual racism was a simpler answer that running into a doppelganger. “I am sure it’s just a coincidence. Can we rent a cabin for the weekend?”
 
“You never told me you had a twin sister,” Pete teased, spinning the key on one finger as Marta drove her car up the dark gravel road. They’d gotten a later start than they’d wanted, and the sun had set by the time they had left the rental office. “Guy was a jerk, wasn’t he? But let’s enjoy the weekend anyway.” He grinned, rubbing her knee as he spoke. “No classes, no stress, and a hot tub.”

The car pulled to a stop in front of a small log cabin nestled into the trees. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. The only lights were the waning moon, just a little off full, and a glittering expanse of stars, and the distant lights of a nearby cabin. “You’re right. The stars are gorgeous out here.”

He bounded out of the car, then grabbed the suitcase and the cooler. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get unpacked and go for a walk.”

-*-

“Too bad we couldn’t have come here under better circumstances,” Pete said, staring out the window at the night sky. “This is really pretty.” He paused. “And the constellations I can make out look the same. That’s... comforting, somehow.”

Marta sat at the little table in the cabin’s compact kitchen-dining room, tapping a pen against her teeth as she poured over the Aklo primer her doppelgänger had created. He’d tried to help, and then tried to work on the differences between his gate equations and the ones his doppelgänger had used, and he’d made little progress. Too much had changed too fast, and he was still reelingz

But the stars looked the same.

“Come on,” Pete said, taking Marta’s hand and tugging. “Let’s go for a walk, get a little exercise. It’ll help clear our minds.” He smiled. “Besides. I want to see what the night sky looks like in a different universe.”

-*-

Marta had elected to wrap an arm around his waist and lean into him, claiming she was cold. Which she might have been, because it was chilly out. But it was also a nice - if slightly awkward in the woods - way to walk. His own arm was around her shoulders, and his free hand gesticulates wildly as he pointed out individual stars and traced out constellations.

“We’ll dig out my binoculars for tomorrow night,” he said. “They’re just about powerful enough to let you see the rings of Saturn. Although they look more like ears at that resolution.” He scanned the sky, then pointed. “There it is. Pity we didn’t bring them now. But tomorrow, we should climb up Sentinel Hill so we can get the best view.”

He watched her look, features silvered in the moonlight, then hugged her close. “But you,” he whispered, touching her nose with his, “are the brightest star in my life.” Their lips met, her breath warm on his mouth, and then he heard a familiar voice.

“Oh shit!”

-*-

“The dippers look right,” Pete declared, tracing them out with his finger, “and Polaris is where it should be. And Mars, and... Saturn.” He gave Marta’s hand a squeeze. “Maybe our changed parameters on the gate equations aren’t different enough to find universes where stellar evolution went differently? But I guess that makes sense. If we changed them that much, the gate might open into deep space. But maybe...”

He bit off his words, and laughed ruefully. “Sorry. I dragged us out here to get a break, and I’m just obsessing. Maybe we should just head back?” As he said it, they followed a curve on the path that created a small rise, then stumbled onto another couple that had decided to make better use of the romantic moonlight.

An oddly-familiar couple.

“Oh shit!” Pete gasped out as he recognized them. More doppelgängers. “Marta,” he said, stumbling backwards, “come on.”

The other them looked sharply towards them, eyes going wide in surprise. “What? Who..?” the other Pete said in disbelief.

Pete grabbed Marta’s hand. “Run!”
 
“But you,” he whispered, touching her nose with his, “are the brightest star in my life.”

“You are so cheesy,” Marta giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and molding her body to his. “You’re lucky that I love it.” She giggled again, and parted her lips around his. Savoring the moment, she considered the box in her pocket. Was this the perfect moment? Or should she wait until dinner, like she planned?

“Oh shit.”

The voice was Peter’s, but it couldn’t have come from Peter. Not with his lips pressed against hers and his tongue teasing her. The kiss broke, and they both turned towards the source. Another couple stared back, another couple just like them.

Marta was dumbfounded, speechless. Peter wasn’t much better off, stumbling over the obvious questions. The other man grabbed the other woman’s hand and yelled, pulling her into the darkness.

Okay, clearly the proprietor hadn’t been crazy. But why the hell was there a woman who looked just like her, here with a man indistinguishable from Peter?

“Come on!” Marta insisted, pulling Peter along. Curiosity might not have been the smart response, but it was the only one she could manage. There was no way to enjoy this weekend with those questions hanging over them.


Marta stumbled behind Peter, before catching her and running beside him. Damn, but his jogging habit had served him well. If they did ever find a place to pay low for awhile, she was going to have to join him on his early morning runs.

Even as they ran for their lives, they had to be cautious. It wouldn’t serve them to catch a foot on a tree root and sprain an ankle, and in the dark of night, it was too easy to miss obstacles in their path. The only upside was that their pursuers were also limited by poor visibility.

They made it back to the cabin, and bolted inside. Half the stuff they’d brought with them had been unpacked. Unfortunately, it was all the most important stuff. Did you they to jump without it? Just pick up what they could carry right now? Marta scrambled to collect her laptop and the first alt’s notebook, and froze as the door pounded.

“What’s going on? Who are you people? Why did you run from us?” The other her shouted these questions from the other side, and pounded at the boor once again. Despite the way her heart pounded, the questions brought realization to Marta. A member of the circle wouldn’t ask, because they’d already know the answers. And a locked door wouldn’t stop them, if they were determined to reach them. And if they weren’t involved with the Circle, perhaps they could be an ally against them.

Marta hesitated another moment, before opening the door. The other her had been mid knock, and started as the door opened. Shocked crossed her feature, the same shock Marta recalled from the first time she’d seen another version of herself. Even now, it was bizarre.

“What is happening here? Who are you? Why did you look exactly like us?”

Marta glanced back at Peter, before opening the door and stepping aside. “Come in. You might want to sit for this…”



Marta sat stunned, still processing what this apparently alternate version of her and Peter had told them. None of it seemed real, but it was hard to dispute the living, breathing proof before them.

“Okay, so you figured out how to create wormholes to travel through time and space. But why did you come here?”

The other Marta glanced at her Peter for a moment before turning back to answer, “We’re experimenting. Creating a log of different realities and cataloguing them. Trying to figure what’s different in each one.”

She nodded, finding the answer reasonable, except for one thing, “But why did you run from us when we found you?”

“We didn’t want to interact with you two, while we were here. Didn’t want to contaminate the research. That’s why we came up here. Somewhere I’m familiar with, that’s far enough away from you two to hopefully avoid you. Didn’t work out too well this time.” She laughed, and Marta suspected that was slightly forced. But it did make sense, too.

Marta turned to her Peter, “what do you think? All this sounds like it’s more in your wheelhouse than mine.”
 
Pete stared at his duplicate, a worried-looking man with a bandage wrapped around his hand. A bandage on the same hand where the duplicate Marta had a livid white scar. Coincidence? He hoped so. “I... you created wormholes? But the power requirements would be...” he waved a hand vaguely, “astronomical. Literally.”

“It turns out they’re self sustaining,” the duplicate Pete replied. “I mean, there’s a small energy cost to start the process, but some outside power source keeps them functioning after that.”

“That’s...” he stopped, appalled and intrigued by the notion. “How?”

“I don’t know,” the duplicate replied. “I mean, I’ve guessed that the equations have an actual presence in Minkowski space, and the act of solving them causes distortions, but that’s a fancy-sounding way of saying ‘magic’, you know?”

“Yeah.” Pete thought about it. “Could it be... maybe there’s a hyoerdimensional mechanism of some sort?”

“What?” The duplicate leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, and I’m just making this up right now, but maybe someone else built a... I don’t know.” He frowned in thought. “Call it a machine. A... Calabi-Yau machine, hidden in dimensions we can’t interact with, accessed through Minkowski space. And you stumbled across it?”

“Like the Bleed structure in Newuniversal,” the duplicate said.

“Yeah. Or like the TARDIS.”

-*-

Pete squeezed Marta’s hand, and looked at the local duplicate. She’d made a good point that they most likely weren’t Circle, but he still felt on edge. In their defense, though, it looked like they were as well. Circle duplicates would probably be more used to this. “Of course, I can’t think of a way to prove that either.”

“Neither can I,” his duplicate replied. “But... maybe I could look at the equations? I won’t know as much about them, but maybe a fresh pair of eyes would help?”

Pete thought about that, then glanced at Marta. “I... What do you think?”
 
“I don’t think there is any risk, except in ruining their romantic weekend getaway,” Marta said with a laugh, relaxing just a little. If these two never cracked the gate equations, there is no reason for them to be part of the Circle, or for the Circle to ever pay them any mind. Maybe this could be a place they could safely hideout, with a pair of alternates as allies. Maybe it was a little soon to hope for all that, but after the last few days, they were due some good luck, weren’t they?

“On that note, why don’t I get dinner started. Did you want to help me?” the other Marta offered, and she realized this was a perfect opportunity to find out more about this world.

The other Marta followed her to the SUV, and got in the passenger’s side. “So, did we lose those two for the night?”

“Possibly. Though, I’m sure you could figure out a way to win his attention back. And I could help you in distracting Peter.” After a moment, she realized how that statement could be taken, and as much fun as it might be to (and had been, in the past) to fool around with them, she wasn’t ready to share her Peter with anyone else, or be shared, for that matter. And besides, she couldn’t be sure how this Marta would take it. “I’d distract my Peter, of course.”

“Yeah.” The other her laughed awkwardly, and then sighed. A few moments of tense silence filled the air, while she considered where to even begin trying to find differences between them. But it was the other her would broke the silence first.

“I was going to propose to Peter. Tonight, over dinner.” She pulled a box from her pocket, and opened to reveal a dark ring with an odd pattern etched into the surface. “It’s made from meteorite. I thought he’d get a kick out of that. But now I don’t know about the timing.”

“Yeah, I guess we messed that up.” She backed the car out, and pulled onto the access road. “But, uh, you’re not worried you might be moving too fast?”

“I mean, a little. It’s only been six months, after all. But I can’t imagine my life without him. Or, I don’t want to imagine a life without him. Besides, I want to start a family, and the clock is ticking on that possibility.”

“Six months?” Well, that was a difference between this world and their original. “that’s reasonable. Peter and I have been together only a couple months, but there is no reason to assume we both had the same trajectory for our relationships.”

She turned down one darkened path, rolling the vehicle up next to Marta’s car in front of her cabin. “Out of curiosity, to compare differences between this world and ours, who did you date before Peter?”

“Before?” the other Marta blew out a breath, “It’s been awhile. I guess it was Aaron Benson, about three years ago. A marketing exec I met through Lena. It didn’t last long.” The car came to a stop and she got out, “What about you?”

“I actually just got out a long-term relationship, a couple months back. A doctor. I took the break-up pretty hard, but, umm…” Marta forced a laugh, not ready to explain just how complicated the Nkendi/Sebelah situation was. “Well, with Peter, I feel like I can finally put her behind me.”

She followed the other her into the cabin, and glanced around, looking for clues about what else might be different on this world, compared to her original. It felt impossible to know eve where to start. After all, everyone thing in her world is just the way things are, to her. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Steaks, with potatoes and green beans in a butter rosemary sauce. And some Don Perignon. You know, to celebrate our engagement. Hopefully.”

“Well, save the champagne for now. I’m sure you can still find a chance to pop the question.”
 
“How many universes have you two visited?”

Pete dumped his notebooks on the coffee table, and flopped down on the couch. “This is only the second,” he said, leading through them to find the one he wanted. “Not counting our own, of course.”

“Really?” The other Pete sounded intrigued. “Why so few?”

“Proof of concept tests,” Pete replied. “Our first trials were making sure the wormholes were stable, before making a few test trips. Like, the base of Sentinel Hill to the top. After that, we tried jumping back into the past.”

“Marta must have loved that, if yours is anything like mine.” The other Pete leaned forward. “Where’d you ho?”

“Seventeenth century Arkham,” he answered. “To look into what happened to Sebelah.”

“Who?”

Pete looked up in surprise. “Uhm. Goode Brown?”

“Oh, her!” The other Pete nodded. “Yeah, she could have been another Newton, if she hadn’t been hanged. I helped Marta interpret what survived of her papers, for the monograph she wore.”

Pete stared at him, trying not to think of Chan hanging from a gibbet with a broken neck. “Here. This is the notes I’ve been working on for a paper on the wormhole generation equations.” He slid the notebook over. “How’d you two meet?”

The other Pete took the notebook and glanced through it. “Oh, she stopped by my office about six months back. She saw a few of the visualization images I generated from my cosmogenesis work.. is that what you work on as well?”

“Before the wormholes, yeah.”

“I get it. But a few images had some superficial similarities to Goode Brown’s magic circles.” He shrugged and laughed. “They weren’t all that similar, but she ended up showing me a journal she’d found. If you decipher the alchemy and medic, there was some interesting work in there.” He looked up again. “It wasn’t complete, but she’d made real work on using the Principia to demonstrate general relativity three centuries before Einstein.”

“Sebelah’s a goddamn genius,” Pete agreed.

“I know, right?” The other Pete laughed. “And she ended up playing matchmaker. Marta and I started working together on her monograph, and one thing led to another, and we moved in together about three months ago.”

“Whose place?”

“Hers.” The other Pete shrugged. “I mean, you know how it is. Tenure gets you more money, and I’m still trying to break through that academic glass ceiling.”
 
Steaks sizzled in the skillet, topped with butter and salt and pepper. While they cooked, Marta and her doppelganger talked about wedding plans. It was a fun to pretend she was marrying her Peter, and it was a pleasant distraction from the horror and blood of the past week.

“Should I ask him to take my last name?”

The question threw Marta off, and she could only answer in a question, “Uh, well, do you want him to?”

“I mean, kinda.” The other her giggled, and brushed her hair back. “Not because I want to ‘own’ him or anything like that. It’s just… well, if we do start a family, I want him to have that connection to our child, you know? But, at the same time, he’s accomplished so much under his birthname, and it’s hard enough for men to be taken seriously in academia.”

Marta didn’t answer for a moment, interpreting the differences between this universe and their home. “So, do men usually take their wives’ last name in this universe?”

“Well, yeah, matrilinearity and all that.” The other Marta cocked her head, “Is it not like that in your universe?”

“No. Men hold power in our world. Women have made great strides, but we still haven’t even had a female president.”

“Really? I wish we could have had our first male president this last election. Bill Clinton got close, but the Republicans have been smearing him since his wife was president in the 90’s.” the other her released a long sigh, and piled the finished steaks onto a platter. |So now we have Sarah Palin, and she is the worst.”

“Palin?” Marta let out a short bark of a laugh, and spooned the potatoes into a serving dish. “Yeah, that could be bad, but I can trump that. As in Donald Trump.”

“Trump?” Marta thought for a few moments, “Wait, that reality tv clown? The ‘you’re fired’ guy?”

“Yeah.” Marta nodded sadly. “And as bad as you can imagine it being? It’s actually worse than that. We’re one election away from becoming a fascist dictatorship.”

“Maybe not so different from here, then. Turns out when Palin said she could see Russia from her porch, she literally meant meeting with Russian oligarchs on her back porch.” Both of them snorted in laughter.

“That’s oddly comforting, to know politicians are trash in both of our realities.” They packed up dinner, with a set of plates and silverware and wine glasses, and loaded them up on the car. “So, are you going to try and salvage this proposal dinner?”

“Nah. Not after this bombshell, tonight.” They got back in the car, and Marta drove back towards her rented cabin. “Maybe... maybe tomorrow? Besides, I have questions of my own for you.”
 
“All riugh, I think I’m following this,” the other Pete said, leaning his head back and letting the notebook rest on his chest. “Superficially, at least. I mean, there’s a lot here to absorb.”

“Yeah.” Pete cracked open a Coke. “I mean, I follow the math...”

“Because you worked it out,” the other Pete added.

“Yeah.” Pete acknowledged the comment with a salute of his bottle. “But I still don’t understand why any of it works. I just know it does.”

“Maybe Minkowski space is descriptive?” suggested the other Pete. “I mean, not just a construct for doing spacetine equations, but a mathematically predicted model of reality?”

Pete thought about that. “I’ve... considered that. But I haven’t thought of...”

“Information theory.”

Pete blinked and sat up. “What?”

“information theory.” The other Pete was sitting up as well, gesturing like he was sketching in the air. “It takes kT natural log 2 energy to copy or erase a bit of information, right?” He hesitated. “You know about Boltzmann’s constant...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pete interrupted, leaning forward. “Go on.”

“So... information has mass. Which could give these equations a mechanism to interact with spacetine.” The other Pete leaned forward. “Not much, mind. But if it’s interacting with some previously unknown principle...”

“Then the mass of the equation could curve spacetine in just the right direction to spontaneously open a wormhole!” Pete scratched his head. “I’d have to think about how to try to verify that, but it sounds plausible.”

“Yeah.”

The two Petes stared at one another, than started laughing. “Shouldn’t we be stoned for conversations like this?” Pete asked.

“Yeah, maybe,” the other Pete agreed. “But...”

The door opened, admitting the two Martas and a basket that leaked the scent of grilled meat. Pete jumped to his feet, taking the basket and kissing his Marta on the cheek. “Ladies,” he smiled.

The other Pete busied himself taking coats. “Just in time,” he agreed. “If you’d been any later, we’d probably have blown this cabin up or something. Did you two have fun?”
 
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