ike me, the others found their own ways to pass the time while at Ashlyn’s. Throughout the course of our stay we only met up for meals and to discuss our mission—what came next and, more pressingly, what we were here for.
Since that first afternoon we’d arrived in Bermuda, our entire group had come to the conclusion that Ashlyn’s locket was the “Heart of the Lost Princess” we were looking for. Putting aside my dreams of the necklace (which only SJ and I knew about), it just made sense.
To start with, it was literally a heart that belonged to our world’s designated lost princess. More poignantly though—with the locket’s contents being a picture of Ashlyn’s family—it was also a symbol of Ashlyn’s heart. It represented her unbridled, unsullied true love for Donnie and her children, which had caused her to sacrifice everything she once held dear. Thus, it qualified as the “Something Pure” we needed for Emma’s list.
Having agreed on that, the only issue that remained was getting Ashlyn to give it to us. She wore it all the time, so we figured it was pretty important to her. And since we obviously weren’t about to steal it, we had to garner up the courage to flat out ask her for it.
SJ, Blue, and I were elected to speak to Ashlyn about it together—deciding that since the three of us attended Ashlyn’s alma mater, we had a more natural bond with her than the boys did. We also settled on waiting until the day before our departure to have this talk in an effort to put off the task for as long as possible and buy more time to put ourselves in her good graces.
Time, as always, moved too quickly. Before we knew it, the day in question had arrived. SJ was finishing her last batch of portable potions in the kitchen when I came to find her. With great delicacy, she laid the glass orbs on a rack to cool by the window.
“All set?” I asked as I glanced over the tiny, colorful fruits of her labor.
“Almost,” she said, taking off her oven mitts.
The small orbs twinkled in the afternoon sunlight. There were nearly three dozen of them—red, jade, and silver. Evidently she’d found all the ingredients to construct most of the same potions as before. However, there was also a lone indigo potion that I didn’t recognize.
“What’s this one?” I asked as I reached for it.
SJ swatted my hand with an oven mitt. “Crisa, they are hot! Must you always get into mischief?”
“Is that a serious question?”
She shook her head. “Never mind; you are hopeless. In regards to the portable potion, I was experimenting with some ingredients I found to see if I could create a brew I memorized on our last night before leaving Lady Agnue’s.”
“What does it do?”
“It is supposed to induce a temporary earthquake on the spot of impact, but I have not yet tested it. In all honesty, I am not sure I ever want to. The recipe required a lot of tropical plants, the likes of which are all but impossible to acquire in Book but are readily available here. So I was too tempted not to give it a go.” She hesitated. “This may have been an irresponsible choice. I do not know how powerful this potion will be when released. The images in my special potions book back at school seemed to suggest that it could be . . . cataclysmic.”
“Oh, is that all?” I said.
“Maybe I should just destroy it now, before it finishes cooling and the seal hardens,” SJ thought aloud. She grabbed a pair of tongs and reached for the orb, but I stopped her.
“SJ,” I said. “Why did you make this potion?”
“I told you, it was too tempting to pass up putting all these ingredients to good use.”
“I’m sure that’s partially it,” I replied. “But you have hundreds of potions memorized. I’m sure you could have thought of a different, less powerful brew to make. Heck, even I seem to recall a memory potion we learned in class a few months back that uses half the plants you have on this countertop.”
“What is your point?”
“My point is that something inspired you to create this crazy powerful potion specifically. So what was it?”
SJ sighed. “I just thought that with everything that has been happening, and all those antagonists and magic hunters chasing us, it might be wise to have a little something extra up my sleeve—a Plan B, if you will. I realize now that brewing such a powerful thing was a reckless and impulsive decision, though. And carrying around a potential category nine earthquake in a sack for the rest of our journey is hardly logical.”
“SJ, logic is important. But so is instinct,” I said. “There was a reason your gut told you to make this earth-shaking potion, and I think it would be a mistake not to listen to it.”
My friend looked at me, then the potion. After a moment she put the tongs back on the counter. “Fine,” she said. “But if that thing accidentally goes off and we all fall through crevices in the earth, it is on you.”
“So the normal agreement then.”
SJ gave me a look.
“Joking,” I said. “Come on, where’s your sense of humor?”
“I think I left it on the magic train.”
I diverted my gaze and swallowed down the enduring guilt. “Um, if you’re through here,” I said, clearing my throat and changing the subject, “we should probably go meet up with Ashlyn.”
“You go ahead. I will find you again in a few minutes,” SJ said, beginning to clean up the counter.
I shrugged and made my way out of the kitchen. As I wandered down the hall I started to hear voices coming from Michael and Tina Louise’s room.
“Help! Help!”
I recognized Tina Louise’s voice and darted for the door. It was cracked ajar, and I pulled the silver knob to step inside.
I hadn’t been in their room yet and was met by an explosion of color. Everything—from the rainbow patchwork comforters on their bunk beds to the color pencil drawings they had on their walls—was a playground of bright shading. Currently the twins were dressed in costume. Michael was wearing his blue pajamas with a red cape and matching red eye mask. Tina Louise had on a light pink leotard, a hot pink tutu, and a sparkly tiara. She was on the top bunk waving around a plastic magic wand, stuffed unicorn clutched under her arm.
In front of the bunk bed was an assortment of other stuffed animals—bears, dragons, rabbits, dogs. They were positioned outwards in front of the bottom bunk. Michael faced them, waving a plastic sword.
“Everything okay in here?” I asked, confused.
Michael raised his eye mask and grinned. “It will be once I defeat these monsters.” He gestured at the battalion of stuffed animals. “I am defending my kingdom and fighting for my honor.”
I glanced up at Tina Louise. “And what about you?” I asked.
“I am the princess,” she responded (a sort of “duh” expression on her face) as she pointed to her tiara. “I am trapped in my tower and am waiting to be rescued.”
It’s hard to express the exact combination of feelings that struck me then. So I’ll settle with saying that it felt like I got punched in the stomach.
I walked over to the bunk bed, looking down at Michael then up at Tina Louise. “Why do you have to wait to be rescued?” I asked steadily. There was a toy chest next to me filled with many more props. I grasped a plastic sword with a bejeweled hilt and held it up to her earnestly. “Why don’t you just climb down and fight the monsters too?”
“Because that’s not the game,” Tina Louise responded. “We are playing princess and hero. Michael fights, and I stay up here until he saves me. That’s what princesses do.”
My cheeks boiled. I was about to open my mouth again when there came a knock at the door. SJ stood under the frame waiting for me.
“Come on, Crisa,” she said. “It is time to find Ashlyn.”
I still wanted to argue with Tina Louise and Michael, but I didn’t think getting into a bickering match with a pair of six-year-olds would improve SJ’s current view of me. So with reluctance I put the sword on the bed and followed SJ out of the room, closing the door behind me.
“Are you all right?” SJ asked. “You look upset.”
That’s because I was upset. But I hardly thought she’d understand why.
“I’m fine. Where’s Blue?” I replied.
“I was hoping you knew.”
“Beats me.” I shrugged.
I hadn’t been spending that much time with anyone in our group this week. But of all of them, Blue was definitely the person I’d seen the least. Today, for example, I saw her at breakfast for, like, five minutes before she scampered off to who knows where.
“Are you guys ready?” Ashlyn asked as she came down the hall. She was wearing her locket and a mid-calf, flowing dress that was flawlessly white. “You said you wanted to talk to me at three o’clock, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Though we were hoping Blue was going to join us. Do you have any idea where she is? It feels like she’s been vanishing all week.”
“Actually, I think she is in the family room with your friend Jason. But I’m not sure you’ll want to pull her way.”
“Why?”
“She’s in deep Die Hard mode. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Intrigued, SJ and I followed Ashlyn to the other side of the house. When we arrived we found the door to the family room closed and the sounds of loud explosions and screaming coming from inside.
Ashlyn opened the door. Blue and Jason were plopped on the floor in front of the TV—their eyes glued to the set so intently they looked like they’d been hypnotized.
“I think this is the twelfth time she’s watched it this week,” Ashlyn whispered to us. “And she’s watched the second one a good half dozen times too.”
“What about the third one?” I asked.
“She watched it once, but then put it away. I think she’s trying to pretend it never happened. Most of us try to.”
SJ walked straight over to our frozen friend. “Come along, Blue. You can finish watching later,” she said as she reached for the remote control. “It is time for us to—”
“Touch that remote and you lose a finger,” Blue said without removing her gaze from the television.
SJ quickly pulled her hand away and scurried back to the doorway where Ashlyn and I were standing. “Crisa, do something,” she whispered. “I have not seen her this far gone since she realized she could get course credit for bear wrestling over the summer. She is obsessed.”
“What do you want me to do? You she still likes. Forget a finger, if I tried to turn off that movie she’d probably take my whole hand.”
“Ladies,” Ashlyn said softly. “Why don’t the three of us have our chat without her? I feel like it would be best to leave Blue alone for now. Trust me, you don’t want to disturb a person when they’re lost in Bruce Willis world.”
Ashlyn glanced back at the TV and raised her eyebrows as she smiled. “Mmm, he sure is a whole lot of man. Am I right?”
SJ followed her gaze to the TV.
“I will have to take your word for it,” she replied.
Ashlyn began herding us out of the room. Just before leaving I caught one more look at the TV screen. The ever-resilient Bruce Willis and his once white sleeveless shirt were covered in various degrees of soot, sweat, and traces of blood. Having lost his shoes at some point, he was presently rappelling down a large, metallic shaft barefoot as he tried to escape whatever bad guys were after him.
Hmm, so that’s what that was . . . I remembered seeing this very image in one of my dream flashes on the magic train.
“Speaking of spells,” SJ continued once we’d closed the door to the family room. “Ashlyn, there is something we have all been meaning to ask you. It is what we wanted to talk to you about today, and it is quite important.”
“What is it?”
“I think you’d better sit down for this one, Ash,” I said. “It’s our turn to tell you a long story.”
Sitting on the same plastic patio furniture as before, SJ and I told Ashlyn the truth about why we’d really come to Earth and the item we were after. We began with an apology for lying, which she thankfully accepted. When we finished, she gave us a single nod.
“That’s what you truly want, what you need in order to be happy?” she asked slowly. “To reach the Author?”
SJ and I exchanged looks.
“Yes,” I said simply. “It is.”
“Then I want you to have it,” Ashlyn stated, and without hesitation she took off the locket and passed it across the table.
SJ and I were both in shock. Could it be really that easy?
“Ashlyn, are you absolutely certain?” SJ asked. “You have already given us so much, it seems wrong to ask you for such a special, personal possession.”
“Donnie gave this locket to me a few years back for a birthday,” Ashlyn explained. “But I have had plenty of birthdays and have received plenty of lovely gifts over the years. Not to mention I have extra copies of the picture inside this one. So it is no grand loss, really. And even if it were, I would still insist that you take it. Everyone deserves a chance to find happiness; the costs of it are just different from person to person. So if this is yours, then I’d be honored to help you pay it. Goodness knows the price could be higher.”
Ashlyn stopped and stared out at the open water—a thought no doubt skimming across her mind in the same way a seagull on the horizon was currently skimming against the shimmering surface.
“Just do me one favor?” she said after a beat.
“Name it,” I said.
“Once you’ve found what you’re looking for and have no more use for the locket, return to Adelaide and find my mother. Give her the necklace and tell her the story I told you. And tell her . . . tell her that I miss her. And that I hope she can forgive me.”
I smiled softly and nodded. “We’ll deliver the message.”
“You have our word,” SJ agreed.
My friend took the locket and placed it around her neck. My memory flashed to the various visions I’d had of her wearing the locket on Adelaide. Part of me felt secure and another part felt unsettled as I watched this slice of the future lock itself into place.
With a wistful smile, Ashlyn bid us adieu and went inside the house. She was on a quest to find a reluctant Mary Roberts who had a dreaded appointment with the hairdresser at the turn of the hour. SJ and I got up too and started walking along the beach.
After a while we began talking. It was nothing of importance—what Mary Roberts would look like without her bangs, memories of when Blue tried to convince our entire floor at Lady Agnue’s to let her give them Tinker Bell haircuts, that time Mauvrey freaked out and tried to get me suspended for using her hair brush.
It had been a while since SJ and I had been on completely good terms. Even our potions conversation in the kitchen had felt riddled with tension. But right at this instant everything felt like it used to. It felt like my best friend and I just enjoying one another’s company.
“The necklace looks good on you,” I commented when our conversation had shifted to how relieved we were that things with Ashlyn had gone so well, and that she hadn’t been mad at us for lying.
“Thank you,” SJ responded. “I hope it is all right with you that I hold on to it. I figured that since your dream had me wearing it, that is what I should do.”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “But you could have just as easily chosen not to wear the necklace if you didn’t want to. It’s not like it’s going to cause some sort of mega universal time ripple that would make everything go crazy if you don’t. I mean, just because I dream it doesn’t mean it has to be that way, right?”
“I am not so certain, Crisa,” SJ responded. “Everything you have envisioned has come to pass. Has it not?”
“Yeah, but all I’m saying is that maybe the future can be changed. That’s the main idea behind our whole quest, isn’t it? That we can alter what fate holds for us?”
“I suppose,” SJ said slowly. “But we are traveling to the ends of our realm to accomplish that goal. If rewriting the plans the Author has for us was really as easy as making a choice—for example choosing not to wear this necklace—then we would not be here, would we?”
I rubbed my arm sheepishly. “I guess not.”
“But speaking of your dreams,” SJ continued slowly. “Crisa, I have been thinking about something lately. That vision you had the night before we entered the Forbidden Forest in which we were on the beaches of Adelaide—that portion of our future is fast approaching, is it not?”
“I imagine so,” I admitted. “If the wormhole going back to Book lets out in the same area, all signs seem to be pointing to us ending up there.”
“Does that mean that strange purple vortex you described consuming you will also be coming soon?”
“It might be,” I replied. “But then again, my dreams don’t seem to go in order very often, so maybe not. I’m not sure to be honest.”
“Have you had any more dreams that better indicate what it is?” she asked.
“Sadly, no,” I responded. I had experienced more dreams about the vortex, but I hadn’t seen anything past what I’d originally described to her.
There was a quick pause on SJ’s part. When I looked at her, I realized it was because she was studying me—trying to peer into my answer and my soul to get a better sense of whether or not I was being completely forthcoming.
I met her eyes confidently, trying to reassure her. “SJ, I really haven’t. There’s nothing new to report on that front. I promise you.”
She seemed to believe me at that and moved on to her next question. One that I did not appreciate and that she seemed far too interested in learning the answer to.
“Are you afraid?” she asked.
I felt my fists clench.
For a moment this made me wonder if maybe that was because a small part of me truly was afraid. Then a split second later I mentally tackled this vulnerable part of my subconscious—angry and ashamed at even the near admission to such weakness of character and fragility of spirit.
Get it together, Crisa, I chided myself.
I’d worked too hard to have my friends see me as something more than this helpless damsel stereotype I’d been running from. I certainly wasn’t going to throw in the towel on that fight now. Because if I did, then they wouldn’t. And if they didn’t, then I really wasn’t. And if I wasn’t, then I was just . . . just . . .
You know what, no. I’m not even going to go there.
I just can’t.
I did not make eye contact with SJ as I responded to her question.
“No,” I replied. “I’m not afraid. Not of Arian, and not of anything else either.”