Having defeated Crocko, Nick led the girls to a metal plated door. He flashed the purity ring and another Clearmind symbol glistened on the door, causing it to open. Still amazed by this feat, Mena gazed in disbelief as she entered the door.

“Ok,” Mena said loudly, as she held the door open for Janus. “ Before we go any further, you have to tell us why you can open all these pathways.”

“Hey, quiet on the down low,” Nick said, making a downward motion with his hands. “Hush hush. You can never know who’s listening in on you.”

Janus carefully closed the door, and Nick pulled them in close. “I’m a member of the Clearmind Society. That’s what this insignia is. I belong to the organization.”

Janus held out her hands and gave a wide-eyed zombie like impression. “So, you’re part of a cult? That’s cool. They’re the closest things to zombies I know.”

Nick grimaced and stomped his foot a bit. “They’re not a cult,”—he said, before regaining his composure. “They’re simply a group of celebrities who want the best for Wormwood and the rest of the magic world.”

“So, what do they do in this secret society?” Mena asked, equally amazed as Janus.

“Now this is top secret information,” Nick said, continuing to talk very quietly. “You’ve got to pay a thousand Jems to hear stuff like this normally, but since you’re both cute I’ll cut you in.”

Janus and Mena waited with anticipation as Nick unfurled the truth. “The Clearmind Society built Wormwood so that we can easily access all of the buildings and passageways.”

Warning signs flashed in Mena’s mind, and she backed away carefully, before Nick added, “We don’t do anything malicious. It’s simply to check up on all the media buildings in Wormwood to make sure they’re putting out content that promotes a clear, safe mind.”

“Oh hmm,” Janus said, pausing for a moment. “So that means, Clearmind isn’t your last name?”

“It’s a name I adopted,” Nick responded. “Since I’m on of the most devoted members to our cause.”

“Oh ok,” Mena said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought you were working for Anguish.”

“Don’t worry,” Nick said with a self-assuring smile. “We’re the furthest thing from Anguish. We only want good things for society. As long as the mind’s eye is clear, we will all be living the good life.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mena smiled as she caught another dreamy gaze from Nick. Only Janus was silent, but when Mena looked in her direction, she nodded. “I’m good, let’s go.”

Nick led the two down a tight corridor of steel pipes to another ladder. “Up we go,” he said, but with a careful smile, he added, “Ladies first.”

Both Janus and Mena climbed to the top of the hole and found themselves in a grey room with an enormous crack in the floor. “This is Love Ink’ basement,” Nick said as he reached the highest rung. “We can reach May from here.”

Mena held her hands together nervously. “Oh, I hope she’s alright. She’s so brave going in all by herself.”

Janus placed a cold, but friendly hand on Mena’s back, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the shivers. Nick smiled, “If I remember the last time, we visited this place on a mission to censor the kind of fabric Fabias used for his speedo…er…I mean, paid Melina Penwell a friendly visit. There is a room where observers can watch Melina give seminars and utilize her writing magic. We can watch dear old May from up there.”

“Ok, let’s do it.” Mena said, her chestnut eyes gleaming brightly. She walked to the door, opened it slightly and stuck her head out. There was nothing but more tight grey corridors. She urged the dream star onward. “Lead the way, Nick.”

Nick quickly rolled out of the door with all the grace of a spy and signaled for them to come. “It’s right upstairs” he said, “Follow me.”

Nick walked stealthily with his knees crouched. Mena followed but her knees cricked awkwardly from being out-of-shape and not having done a lot squats in Nebula’s class. And Janus, well, she could forget walking stealthily. Her knee bones cracked sideways when she crouched, and she giggled awkwardly and fixed them. Both Mena and Janus elected to simply walk on their tippy-toes, or tippy bones in Janus case. As they passed door after door, an icy wind passed by Mena’s head, with a distinctive prickle around her ears. There was something familiar about this cold wind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Whoa,” Mena gasped. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Nick asked, cautiously surveying for any guards.

“Sorry,” Janus peeped up. “Can’t help you there. I’ve got a nerveless system.”

Another shivery wind rushed past, but this time, there was a slight whisper on the chilling wind. “Meeeeeeennnnaaaaaa.” It sounded like a banshee’s voice, hovering around her with an invisible presence.

Mena’s hair stood straight up. She remained silent, in fear she might be possessed, but the wind passed. “Are you sure you didn’t hear that?” Mena moaned quietly.

“Hear what?” Nick responded back. “Are you sure you aren’t going slightly mad on us?”

Mena shook her head. Now even Janus was ahead of Mena, and for the third time, icy wind blew over her. This time she felt a frozen grip upon her shoulder. She heard a quiet wail off in the distance, like the sobbing of someone who would never be happy again.

Mena’s breath charged the air. “I gotta pull through this,” she said. “Happy thoughts. Happy dreams.”

She thought of her auntie brewing her a warm cup of cocoa, she thought of friends at school, and then she thought of Deidre and her warm embrace. That was enough to summon the Heart Barrier in her head, and she stumbled forward, breaking free from the spell.

Both Janus and Nick looked at Mena who was gasping for air. “I’m…ok,” she said, panting.

They reached the stairwell and climbed it quietly.

After peering through the door to make sure the coast was clear, the room at the top provided a cozier atmosphere. A large table full of breakroom refreshments and coffee lined an enormous plate glass window. Mena, still feeling the chills reclined in the chair. She had no idea what that strange presence she encountered was, but it seemed neither Nick nor Janus could feel it. Nick bolted the door and drew the shade over it, so they knew they were safe. Nick confidently walked over. “Now we got some time to relax and watch our good friend, May down there.”

“You know,” Nick said, crossing his arms and smirking as he looked down on the scene below. “I know we started off on the wrong foot. But perhaps I could be a brother to May. A big brother.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Dreamboy,” Janus said, as she settled into her chair too. “But I’m happy we are here, protecting May all the same. Right Mena?”

Mena, who had been staring into space in a mortified haze shook her head. “Right,” she said, “Let’s watch over, May. And perhaps my soul too.”

“What was that?” Janus asked, blinking twice.

“Janus?” Mena asked earnestly. “Are you good at detecting ghosts?”

“Uh have you seen me, Mena?” Janus asked, holding her bony hands apart to create black rainbow with her imagicnation. “I’m a walking mausoleum in elevator boots and black velvet.”

“So,” Mena asked, pushing the papers aside on the table. “Are you sure you didn’t detect a ghost or anything in those halls?”

“I’d let you know if I did,” Janus responded. “But I truly felt nothing.”

Mena breathed out and rested her head on the table. Perhaps she was truly imagining things. She did have an overactive imagicnation after all.

Nick brushed aside the box of donuts on the table. “How about we forget about these fictious ghosts and put our eyes front and center. Don’t you want to watch out for May?”

Mena tried to relax. She grabbed a glazed donut and put it around her finger. A sugary sweet confection would help her tastebuds at least. But when she looked out into the room below. She realized that it was hardly the kind of room she’d associate with romance books or Melina Penwell herself. In fact, it looked quite unpleasant and shocking.

***

As May entered the lobby of Love Ink, thoughts filled her head about what the writing room would look like. She had speculated last night with Mena that it was a wonderland designed exactly like the settings of Love in The Days of Magic. Gorgeous romantic backdrops full of verdant grass, crystalline lakes of the purest blue and skies of equally angelic hues. Melina Penwell would relax in an elegant lawn chair while eating grapes fed to her by handsome men in nothing but a speedo. Her writing world was as lascivious as the fruitful prose she filled her notepads with.

But when the doors opened, May witnessed true face of the industry. In a dim, cavernous, dungeon-like room with concrete floors, several makeshift desks had been placed in the center. The air was chill, and the floors were slightly dank and cracked. The only evidence that this was a room where magic dreams of love came true were some cardboard cut outs, one of Fabias in his tall, dark, and handsome splendor and the lead witch character who looked very similar to Penwell but younger and more nubile. Two stories of black windows overlooked the sweatshop style room that made May swallow hard. Who could be watching from them?

As May made her way around the desks, she observed most of the girls. A lot of them shared the same awkward, prepubescent faces of May and her friends. Dental problems, glasses and pimples abounded. May looked in the front and saw the only girl she witnessed. It was Poshleen the rich girl Mena and Ashlan had rescued.

There was only one other desk, and it was up front with Poshleen. May took it. She wasn’t expecting Poshleen to speak to her, but she did. “Salutations alumni of the Dream Academy,” Poshleen said with a wave of her gloved hand.

“Um, hi,” May said back. She had no idea how to respond to this girl, especially after May witnessed the poor-girl being manhandled by her father. “You remember me?”

“Of course, I do,” Poshleen said back. “You are a friend of Mena’s, the girl who saved me and then corrupted the whole school including myself.”

May turned bright pink, “Umm, you know,” she blubbered in her deep voice. “Mena was being possessed by an evil book. Please don’t sue her.”

“Sue her?” Poshleen threw her hand forward. “I would never. That is papa’s job. But trust me, know hard feelings towards her at all.”

“That’s good, I think,” May said, and she quickly scrambled to change the subject. “I had no idea you were a writer.”

“Well,” Poshleen said, her sapphire-like eyes rolled towards the heavens. “I was not always, but I took up prose after hearing about Melina Penwell and her contest to convert the dreams of a young maiden into printed page. Once I heard that, my father kindly purchased me a position in her writing contest. There ain’t no writing more convincing than a signed check.”

Poshleen let out a couple of rich girl chortles before she said. “I certainly hope my dreams for myself can become reality…at least on paper. Then mumsy and papa will see what I was truly meant to be.”

“Well, be careful,” May said as a middle-aged woman walked out to the front of the room. “This place sure has a twisted way of granting dreams.”

But Poshleen wasn’t listening, she was completely focused on the woman standing before them. With long black with white striped hair fastened with sunflowers and a weathered face. Melina Penwell stood with a nervous expression. But once she took a swig from a small black canteen in her hand, her tenseness was alleviated.

“A question,” Melina Penwell asked in a slightly slurred but still sharp voice. “What do you think that constitutes good writing?”

Everyone’s hand shot into the air, including May’s, and much to her surprise, Melina responded to May. “Yes, you. In the front. Answer me now.”

May repeated back everything she was taught from the myriad of romance and fantasy books she had read, “Well-balanced characters and thoughtful plots.”

Penwell crossed her arms over her fabric blouse. “Incorrect.” The aging writing dramatically pointed her hand over the class to some invisible nether-region.

“That’s not what sells. Well balanced characters and thoughtful plots are not where it’s at.”

There were some gasps and murmurs, but Penwell was unphased. “The first thing you need to know about being a good writer, is forgetting everything you know about good writing.”

Penwell took a swig and began to pace back and forth, her voice fiery and dramatic. “Instead, you need to write exactly what the audience wants or at least, what you think they want. The audience is your book and your book is your audience so make their deepest desires come true.”

Penwell stopped and surveyed the class with her slightly bloodshot, alcoholic eyes. She gave a hiccup. “You know what I see in my seminar audience?”

The whole class was silent. “I see a bunch of lonely, awkward girls who have never been close to a handsome boy in their life…much like I was as a young girl.”

May’s face flushed, and she had to admit, her long-time favorite author Melina Penwell was the furthest thing away from a kind and thoughtful person. Instead, she was quite cruel.

“So what did I write? I wrote myself into my stories and surrounded myself with a bunch of handsome men, willing to do anything for me for no apparent reason. And guess what? It made me millions. All for writing about my deepest fantasies and putting myself in them.”

Everyone was dead silent again. May could not get over how much Penwell’s stories contrasted with the author herself. Love In The Days of Magic seemed so buoyant and fancy free. Sure, there were handsome men, but there was also a good sense of humor and a feeling of not taking things so seriously. But Penwell was so cynical about her craft. Could a mid-life crisis really be dawning on Penwell.

Penwell held her hands together with a slight sneer. “You may be wondering, why all this talk about self insertion in my class? Because, if all goes according to plan, you will be featured in my next book… literally.

Penwell’s eyes darkened. “But be warned, if you don't follow my instructions perfectly, you might not come back from it."