Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Aaran
O n one hand, I have to bring this woman to Domhan. On the other, I long to leave her in peace.
She should live a life where no one wants to destroy what she is. Unfortunately, that time has passed. The witch queen knows about the prophecy of three, and she’ll be hunting human women as soon as she learns the magic necessary to come here. Human magic is different from elven, and that knowledge is lost in time.
“Several generations ago, the witch queen cast a spell to make herself ruler and keep men from having power.” There’s a lot to tell about the witch queen, but Harper said to keep it short, so I move on. “The spell worked, but it had an unexpected cost.”
As Harper sits up and watches me with her green eyes full of curiosity, her hair shimmers in the sunlight. I’ve never seen hair like hers. Some would call it brown, but it shines with streaks of red and blond and draws a man in for a touch. “What happened?”
I resist the urge. “My mother hoped that my youngest brother would be a girl, but another babe born six months earlier was the last female elf born in Domhan.”
She blinks those soulful eyes. “How old is your brother?”
“Thirty suns. My mother was pregnant when the curse was cast.” I hope both my brothers survived the portal magic and found their women more malleable than Harper. That thought makes me smile. I can’t help liking this strong, sad, beautiful woman. It does me no good to care. I need her help, not her affection.
“Is that years? The number of times the Earth goes around the sun?” She wrinkles her nose.
“Yes. You call it years.” I remember from my training. My brothers and I had to learn as much as we could about this world before we made the trip.
She stands and props her hands on the curve of her hips. Now those eyes flash at me. “Your youngest brother is thirty years old. How freaking old are you?”
“I’m thirty-seven.” Unsure why she’s so animated, I keep my seat and let her hover over me.
“You look much younger. Is there some fountain of youth over there?” She waves her hands, as if Domhan might be in the air outside the windows, then turns and walks to the kitchen. After taking a glass from the cupboard, she fills it from a spout in the door of a metal cabinet, then drinks it down. Clearly, she’s agitated, but I can’t imagine why.
“Elves don’t age as quickly as humans. We live much longer as well.” What else am I supposed to say?
Those full lips of hers twist in what might be annoyance, and I can’t help finding it adorable. “Tell your story. You said it’s been thirty years since a female baby was born in your world. That seems pretty serious.” She drinks more water and leans on the counter, which sits in the middle of her kitchen, with a sink in the center.
Everything about the way these humans live is foreign to me, but Mother warned me it would be. She and Father came here years ago to look for answers to the curse, but they didn’t have the prophecy yet. They couldn’t know what exactly they sought. “It’s going to get a lot more serious. It will mean the end of our people. Some have already gone begging to the witch queen for help, only to be turned into creatures in her army.” I swallow down the bile of that betrayal and push on. “My parents took a large group to the walled city of Tús Nua. It’s not the only elven settlement, but it’s by far the largest. We cast wards to keep the witch queen out, but those won’t last forever. The oracle protects the western continent, but even that magic is fading. We need to break the curse and depose the queen.
“For years, we searched for some clue about how to do it and finally found a prophecy which required time to decipher. Three human women have the magic to open the Great Watcher’s Gate.”
She cocks her head and sighs. “And I’m one of these women?”
“That was what the oracle said. And since you were the only one pulled out of time today, I’d say they were accurate.” I get up because I feel strange sitting when she’s standing. “I’m sorry, Harper, but we need you, or an entire race will die, and Domhan will fall into darkness.”
“And why should I care?” The softness in her voice betrays that she does care, despite the question.
“Our worlds are connected. The witch queen will find her way here and destroy this world too. It might not be in your lifetime, but eventually, she will dim your sun with her evil.” All I can do now is wait while this human woman decides the fate of everything I love. The problem is, I can’t even blame her for saying no.
“You know, this all sounds insane, and it’s too much to process after that whole jumping out of a hole-in-the-wall thing. I’m going to change into jeans and go to the bar.” She looks down at her black slacks and pink blouse. Without waiting for a reply, she turns and goes down a hallway. A door closes and locks.
Everything about this house, connected to other houses, is foreign to me. The sink is white like the flat cabinets with their black handles. It’s the first time I’ve seen cupboard doors made from just one slab of wood. I open the door where she got water and peer inside the device. Its metal front catches the light from a chandelier, and it has glass shelves. We have something similar, a cold box powered by magic to keep milk, meat, and cheese from spoiling. I’m again struck by the differences between our worlds. The wooden floors are the only similarity, but these are stained dark brown. The food is in packages. Mother told me about the markets here that are super, and you can buy all the food in one place.
Harper seems to live alone, but the large room has a dining table with six chairs. All the living space is in one room so you can see from the kitchen to the couch. It’s strange but rather nice.
I sit until I hear the door open again, then I get to my feet.
Sparing me the briefest glance, she grabs her bag from the hook near the door.
Not to be left behind, and admittedly curious about the pub, I follow fast on her heels. I work a quick glamour to hide my ears. Between that and leaving my sword behind, I feel a little exposed.
In heeled boots and denim pants that hug her round ass and make my mouth water, she walks at a clip down the block. At the corner is a well-lit area with people outside laughing and smoking. Harper says hello to a man with a beard who waves and calls her name.
I hold the door open for her to enter. The bar is a rectangle with alcohol bottles in the center, four bartenders, and beer taps, two on either side. The sun is just setting, and the place is crowded, with only two stools empty at the far end.
Past the bar is a dance floor and stage. Music is playing, but there are no musicians. This is the first place that feels a bit more like home and reminds me of the pub in Tús Nua.
Harper sits and leans toward a woman who puts a pink drink in front of her without her being asked. “Thanks, Ashley.”
The blonde gives me a long look. “Who’s your friend?”
“Aaran, this is my friend Ashley. Ashley, Aaran, who I met at the DMV today.” Harper’s voice is flat, and she sips the drink.
“Well, I never have this kind of luck at the DMV, girl. Aaran, what are you drinking?” Ashley smiles, showing off straight white teeth and an easy manner.
As much as the pub is similar to home, I have no idea what the pink drink is, but I know what I’d order at home and hope they have something like it. “Whiskey, please, lass.”
“Are you from Scotland? I have some decent scotch.” Ashley picks up a bottle from behind her with scrolled writing on the label.
The man with the beard from outside slaps me on the back. “You’re in America now, try our bourbon. I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll even buy.”
I give Ashley a nod and turn to the man with the beard. “I’m Aaran Riordan.” I offer my hand.
“Greg Peterson.” His shake is firm. “Harper, Ashley, and I went to school together.”
The bourbon arrives in two fancy glasses. I inspect the crystal, wondering if I can drink from this without breaking it.
Laughing, Greg says, “We start with the good stuff and sip it. Next, we’ll move on to shots once our taste buds are numb.”
So, I sip, and it’s good. It’s very good, and I sip until we’re several shots in and I know everything about Greg and a woman named Liz who broke his heart.
I check on Harper every few minutes, and she smiles from time to time, but her sadness is so deep it never leaves her.
Two hours later, I’m singing old folk songs, and my eyes are blurry.
Watching from the bar, Harper shakes her head. She pays the bill and heads out the door. I stumble twice as I rush to follow her and curse myself for getting drunk when I have work to do. Still, I manage to make it to her house before she closes the door.
She goes down the hall and comes back with her arms full of linens. “You can sleep on the couch. The bathroom is in the hallway. Don’t throw up on my floor.”
I take the pile and start to make a bed out of the couch. “Thank you. You are very kind.”
Putting a large glass of water on the coffee table, she says, “I don’t believe your story, but it’s clear to me that you do. I don’t know who or what you are, but I saw what I saw today. I have to take care of my mother, so I’m not going anywhere with you. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.”
My heart sinking, I sit. “I understand.” I drink the water and watch her disappear down the hallway.
I’ve failed.
I wish someone would tell me what to do. It would be better if I were heartless. Then I would have dragged her into the portal today and dealt with the consequences. The fact is, I need her help, and making her angry wouldn’t have been a good way to gain it. Still, at least she’d be in Domhan, and there would be a chance to save it.
I must have fallen asleep because I’m much more sober when I hear her breathing close by. “Are you alright, Harper?”
“I don’t sleep much. You didn’t get sick?” She’s on the other side of the couch.
“No. I’m fine.” My eyes adjust, and I see moisture on her cheeks, shining in the moonlight. “You’re crying.” I sit up.
She wipes her cheeks. “I would help you if I could.”
“Thanks for that.” I’m not certain it’s true, but it’s still nice of her to say. “Why are you crying?”
“Do you drink coffee?” She gets up and goes to the kitchen.
I follow. “We don’t have whatever that is in my world.”
She fills a basket with brown crumbs and fits it in a machine, adds water to another part, and pushes a button. “No coffee? Sounds like hell. Tea?”
“Yes, I drink tea.” I’m an idiot for feeling any joy, but the fact that she’s treating me like a guest makes my pulse speed.
After filling a kettle, she heats water and takes an odd white bag from a yellow box before putting it in a white mug. The second mug is blue and says Mornings are for Coffee, not Talking. On one side it has a drawing of a stick figure with a padlock on his lips.
“I’m going to see my mom this morning.”
“May I come with you?” I hold my breath.
She stands over the stove and watches the kettle. Once it makes a horrible sound from the steam pushing through some kind of whistling device, she turns off the flame and fills the white mug. Placing it in front of me, she looks deep into my eyes. “If you want to see a dying human, I guess you can come with me. It’s a sad place to visit.”
Her other machine makes a beeping sound, and she pours the dark liquid called coffee, then sits silently drinking while the sun comes up. When she pours a second cup, she says, “If you want to shower, there are towels under the sink in the bathroom.”
Taking the rest of my mediocre tea with me, I go to the bathroom and leave her in peace.
After a long testing period where I finally figure out how to work the shower, I get cleaned up and dressed. I borrow a comb, and Harper left a package that reads toothbrush on the counter for me. It’s similar to what we have at home, and I’m grateful for the gesture.
In the living room, Harper waits near the door. “I like to get there early and speak with the nurses before they get too busy.”
The music in the car is just loud enough to make me think she would rather not talk. The trees are beautiful here, and I watch the scenery go by, changing from the stacked homes to larger places, then a small town with a large stone university. The school’s architecture reminds me of home. It’s a thriving little place, even this early.
We pull off the main street and then make several turns until we arrive at a building marked New Jersey Palliative Care .
I follow her to the second floor of the white and gray place. It’s clean, but I sense death and have to raise my walls to keep from feeling too much. Unlike the actual words I hear with Harper, I sense the pain and fear of the dying within each room.
Harper stops at a desk and speaks to a man and a woman. I look inside the door across from the desk. On a board across from the bed, it says Maggie Craig.
“Who are you?” Her voice is just a whisper. Little more than skin and bones, a woman with Harper’s eyes stares at me. She has a pink cloth wrapped around her head and is hooked up to wires and tubes.
“My name is Aaran. I came with Harper to visit you.” My magic opens to the wake of a dark illness growing inside her.
She raises her brows and winces. “You’re not from here. What are you?”
Can she know about Domhan? It doesn’t seem possible, but her nearness to the other side may give her insight.
“I came to find Harper. I need her help.”
When she laughs, it’s more like a wheeze. “It must have been quite a journey. Your kind don’t usually come here.”
“No. We stay home, but this was important.” I touch her bony hand lying on top of the sheet. “She’s not ready to lose you.”
A tear bubbles from her. “No, but we have no control over that now. I suppose we never did.”
As the eldest of my parents’ children, I pride myself on unwavering self-control, but since I entered this world, that has faltered. Impulse is for my youngest brother to toy with, not me. Still, as I look at the withering form of Maggie Craig, all I can think is how her death will destroy Harper. Unable to help myself, I call my magic to pull this fog of bitter illness from her.
The heat of it burns deep into my bones, like the branding iron straight from the fire. More painful than traveling by portal, long minutes pass, and still more fire draws out of her. How she was still alive is a testament to her strength.
“Harper, make him stop. Look what it’s doing to him.” Maggie shakes her hand, trying to dislodge it from mine.
Harper’s cool fingers touch my cheek. “Aaran, whatever you’re doing, it’s harming you. She wouldn’t want that.”
“It’s the price of magic for my kind. I can take a bit more.” The pain surges through my gut, up my body, and resounds inside my head like a battering ram.
The tenderness of Harper’s touch keeps me grounded. Opening my eyes, I stare into hers. “One moment more.” My voice is rough and weak.
“No more.” Maggie’s voice has the strength of a soldier.
I release the cloud of black and send it away. Stumbling back, I barely make it to the chair before my legs give out. “I will just need a few minutes.”
Skin changed from gray to a nice pink, Maggie looks like a different woman. Still far too thin, but health has returned to her cheeks and eyes.
Gripping the blue-green leather on the arm of the wooden chair, I let the last of my magic rest.
Harper kneels in front of me. “What have you done?”
“What I could.” Breathing is harder than I’d like, but there’s enough magic left in me to restore my strength, given a bit of time.
Looking from me to her mother, Harper’s eyes fill with tears. “How?” She holds up her palm. “No, don’t tell me. At least, not yet.” She goes to her mother, and the two women hug as if it’s been years since they’ve seen each other.
Maggie laughs. “Is it bad that I’m craving pizza and fries?”
When they laugh together, my chest tightens. As bad as I feel, and as vulnerable as I’ve made myself, it was worth it to hear that sound.