David

 

 

David rolled over and stared at the model F-22 dangling from the ceiling fan, Eric’s preposterous idea turning over in his mind. The guy had only been in this world for less that twenty-four hours and already wanted to steal a billion-dollar aircraft, somehow take it back to Fallhollow, and blow up Einar with it. While David had no problem with the result, pulling it off would be next to impossible. It was an insane idea, yet …

The smell of coffee and bacon begged him to get up, but he’d forgotten what it felt like to sleep in his own bed, with a real pillow and all the luxuries of home. Never again would he take it for granted. While the fineries at Gyllen Castle were extraordinary, they had nothing on memory foam beds, hot showers, or disposable razors.

He wondered how Eric managed through his first night in the 21^st century. Did he feel as out of place as David felt his first night in Fallhollow? It was difficult enough going back in time. Going forward in time must have its own WTF moments, too. He rolled out of bed and padded out onto the landing and down the hallway to Eric’s room. The door opened after a single knock.

David yawned. “I was just checking on you. Seeing how you slept.”

“All right, for the most part.” Eric scratched his head all over. “I like the bed, though I’m not too fond of the floral décor.”

“Yeah, I get that. Sorry. I should have probably searched out a better room. It’s just this one was the closest to mine.”

Eric stretched and flexed his arms over his head. A scar, at least eight inches in diameter puckered like a full moon in the center of his back. He tried to imagine what had caused it, the pain he must have suffered. And it wasn’t the only one. There were many, each with their own story.

David glanced at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “I take it you found the bathroom okay and figured it all out? I guess I should have given you the ten-cent tour of how that all worked.”

Eric faced David, his shirt wadded in his hands. “Einar did it. The scar on my back. He skewered me with a talon.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, and to answer your question, yes, I figured out the toilet. It’s brilliant.”

David swallowed. He could almost feel the wound deep in his chest as it ripped open. The agony. It must have been … there was no word to describe it. And how had he survived? By all reasoning, Eric should be dead, but he wasn’t.

His brain throbbed with questions begging for answers that had no logical explanations. Perhaps someday the mysteries would unravel. Right now, he needed air.

“Good, good. Umm, I need to take a shower, get dressed. If you want, you can rummage through my closet and find something clean to wear. I think you and I are about the same size. If you want to take a shower, feel free to. It’s in the bathroom behind the glass doors. Just pull out on the knob and turn the handle to get the right temperature of water. There’s soap and shampoo. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Eric smiled. “I’m sure I will, but thanks.”

David nodded and retreated to his room. He shut the bathroom door a moment later and lingered in the shower until the water turned cold, his mind a knotted mess of worry over his parents, Gertie and Garret, Mirith, Finn, the crystals. When would the nightmare ever end? When would life return to normal? Was there such a thing?

He dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and took the servant’s steps to the kitchen, following the laughter and chatter to the formal dining room. He turned the corner and jolted to a stop.

Slavandria sat at the head of the dressed table, her elbows on the arms of her chair and her fingers steepled to her lips, waiting. At the serving table stood Eric and Charlotte, both dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers. They both glanced his way as he entered the room. As always, Charlotte greeted him with a smile that melted the very fabric of his being. He pushed the emotion aside and returned a half-smile. The days of pining for her were over, the decision made in the middle of the night upon waking from a horrid nightmare in which his indecision left her dead. The thought was more than he could bear. He had to move on without her. He had to. To protect her from the danger that followed him. She was home, and he’d do everything he could to see she stayed here, even if it meant leaving her and everything he treasured, behind.

Eric dipped his chin in acknowledgement, and raised a glass of orange juice.

In that instant, David saw Eric and Trog. They had the same square jaw, the same eyes, only Eric’s were a darker green. The same build. While other features were different, there was no mistaking he was Trog’s son. He wished he could wrap his head around the fact Trog had a family. A son.

Eric probably did, too.

David eyed Slavandria as he pulled out a chair and sat down. So Lily had summoned her to help with the crystals. How sisterly. In the center of the table lay his bow and quiver, and Eric’s sword and scabbard. His stomach twisted. Their presence only meant one thing, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with playing the roles of archer and swordsman in a local Renaissance faire.

Lily approached from behind and placed a hand on his back. “You might want to get something to eat. We have a lot to discuss.”

Eric and Charlotte sat down across from him, their plates stacked with pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and fruit. Lily poured coffee from an ornate silver coffee pot that had never seen the outside of a china cabinet, at least not since David could remember. It had been polished to a mirrored shine, their reflections distorted. Creepy. Like a funhouse mirror.

He made his way to the buffet table and listened to the small talk behind him as he loaded his plate. Eric marveled at how strange but comfortable his clothes were, and how well he slept. Charlotte thanked Lily for the fresh squeezed orange juice and the change of clothes. But despite the laughter and lightness to the conversation, there was a palpable tension and unease that hung in the air like a thick, toxic fog. Breathe too deep, and one might die from the strain.

There was no doubt this meeting was important. Slavandria’s presence made it so. He had to admit there was a part of him that craved the answers only she had, but how willing would she be to give up the knowledge? That was the grand question. He returned to his seat and picked up his fork.

“I am happy to see the three of you are all right,” Slavandria said, her lavender hair shimmering in the sunlight from the window. “As you can see, I brought some items you left behind due to your rapid departure from Fallhollow.” Her gaze fell to the weapons on the table. She glanced to her left. “How are you feeling, Charlotte? Anything unusual going on?”

Charlotte wiped her mouth and shook her head. “I’m fine. In fact, I was telling Eric this morning that I never felt better. Stronger almost. I am having some weird tingles shooting throughout my arms and legs which sometimes makes me shock people when I touch them, but when I talked to Lily before I went to bed last night, she said she’s pretty sure it’ll wear off.”

Slavandria nodded, her eyes on Lily. “Yes, I agree. More than likely it’s a remnant of some leftover magic you came in contact with.”

Charlotte dragged a piece of egg around on her plate with her fork. “I’m not too worried about it. Have you heard from Finn? Is he okay?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him,” Slavandria said, sipping her coffee. “By the time I arrived at the cottage, there was nothing left but a shell of a home. An indicium spell revealed an intense skirmish with the three of you being hurled out of there by a powerful expulso spell. Finn, Mirith, and Maggot vanished separately. I have yet to locate them, but sestras have an entire realm of magic I don’t understand. I can only hope they are safe.”

Charlotte laid down her fork. “That makes me feel better.”

David picked at the food on his plate. Why had Slavandria brought attention to Charlotte’s shocking side effects? And what was with the odd exchange of glances between Slavandria and Lily? Was there something more they weren’t revealing? It wouldn’t be the first time. Either way, he’d have to keep an eye on Charlotte. Maybe it was residual magic, but he didn’t think so. If only she remembered when it started.

“Thank you for bringing our things to us,” David said, “but we all know that’s not why you’re here.” He gave Slavandria a flat stare. They sat in silence for a brief moment, the only sound that of knives and forks scraping over china.

“No, it is not.” Slavandria leaned back in her chair. “However, Charlotte’s shocking health problem has my curiosity piqued. I want to hear all about it as well as how you escaped the Elastine Forest.”

Charlotte paused, her cheeks stuffed like a hamster’s. “Wha’?” She swallowed her food and gulped her juice.

Eric’s eyes widened. A smile of disbelief lit his face. “Is that true? You escaped from the Elastine Forest?”

Charlotte snorted. “You make it sound like I won the Noble Peace Prize.” She placed her napkin on the table and hunched over, her hands in her lap. “I didn’t do anything, really. It was Mirith. He was the one who got us out of there.”

Slavandria leaned forward, her arms folded on the table. “Mirith was on the brink of death, weak and unresponsive. Queen Mysterie said she was struggling to hold onto hope until you came. She said it was you who saved them, but she could not shed any light on the mystery.”

“I swear to you I didn’t do anything. It was Mirith. He blasted a hole in the invisible barrier around the forest.”

“How, Charlotte? I must know every detail. Please don’t make me extract the information the hard way. I think you would find it most unpleasant.”

Her threat jumped on David’s back and clung to his spine like an alien creature, its fingernails raking across David’s throat, choking his words. Surely, she must know she’d have to kill him first if she wished to bring any harm to Charlotte.

“I’m telling you what I know. He popped his tail over his head and launched a lightning bolt.”

“Think,” Lily said. “Tell us the story. Tell us what happened. Even down to the smallest detail you don’t think matters. It is an inescapable prison, protected by magic so dark, our own father cannot go near the wood’s edge without suffering severe nose and eye bleeds. Perhaps the secret of your escape will uncover Einar’s weakness.”

Charlotte gathered her hair over one shoulder. “Oh my gosh. Fine. Okay. I’ll tell you the story. It all started when Trog was taking us to Gyllen Castle.”

David closed his eyes and listened to a story he’d never forget.