7. Chapter Seven
“Syndeth is my name,” said the dragon hesitantly. “I am small for a dragon, I know, but I am big for a human.”
Linorra laughed, believing that Syndeth jested. “Yes,” she said, “you would be a big human indeed. It’s a good thing you were made a dragon instead.”
An oil lantern with an ornate bulb of frosted glass and delicately etched flowers lit the inside of the cottage. The single small room was otherwise barren. A cot in the back corner sat opposite the bath. Above the cot, a ladder secured to the wall led up to a trapdoor in the ceiling. Next to the front door stood a wooden counter with a ceramic basin and a few knives and utensils, neatly arranged. On the other side of the door, a workbench with metal tools and an unfinished project awaited the return of attentive hands.
Everything in the cottage was practical, with a clear use. There were no books, pictures, or decorations of any kind. The lantern was the most decorative thing in the cottage. The place had the feeling of a bunker rather than a home, but it was also organized and impeccably clean. Aaron, it appeared, was a neatnik. I rubbed my palms together, smiling.
Enter Hurricane Lina.
A trifold room divider stood next to the bath. I stretched it out, watching Aaron turn the spigot on to fill the tub. He could heat up water, but he avoided my gaze as he did it. I wasn’t sure if he was ashamed of his ability, or if the intimacy of helping me draw a bath and then giving me his own shirt to wear made him uncomfortable. Regardless, I was grateful.
While Aaron finished heating the bathwater, I found a wooden bowl on the counter and dunked it in to gather water for cleaning Rogue. I rinsed the blood out of Rogue’s fur but decided to let him dry before applying the antibiotic ointment that I hoped was still in my first aid kit, tucked somewhere in my pack. Rogue shook, spraying me, then followed me back inside.
After the day I’d had, the hot water was a revelation, even though the “bath” was just a barrel. He only had bar soap so hard that it didn’t release much soap at all, but it smelled like spearmint, which explained a fraction of his signature scent. I used it to wash myself and my clothes. All my clothes, which left me in a bit of an undergarment situation, but I thought it best to take advantage of the opportunity to get clean while I had it.
I draped my wet clothes over the side of the tub, dried myself off with what was essentially a washcloth, then donned Aaron’s shirt, which he’d laid out for me. The shirt was white and reached just past my knees. It smelled like him. The odd thing about the garment was that it didn’t have any seams or stitches, as if the cloth had been woven directly into the shape of a shirt. When Aaron saw me, he blinked a couple of times but said nothing. Very wise.
While I’d been scrubbing, Aaron had skinned and deboned the dragon. Then he finished butchering it and cooked the “best pieces,” which included the liver for some reason, in a large, wok-like pan that sat directly in the fire. He cooked it with a broth that he’d stored in a ceramic jar, then cooked some of the scraps from the basin and tossed them in a bowl for Rogue, who devoured them.
Rogue licked his bowl clean and flopped down by the door again. He appeared relaxed, but his amber eyes were alert as always, following me around the room as I finished snooping, then sat down with Aaron to eat. The meat was chewy and tasted like whitefish, except pungent, like goat’s milk. It reminded me of the time I vacationed in Florida and ate alligator. It was weird but good, making the whole fire-vomit thing seem well worth the trouble.
It had taken Aaron hours to prepare the meal, and by the time we finished eating, it was nearly dark. Fog had invaded the garden, and it was so dense that I couldn’t see the bushes out front. It felt safe, as if the fog knew we were trying to hide and wanted to help.
Aaron set my wet clothing aside and carried the tub outside to empty. Though I had seen him lift the dragon, I still couldn’t believe it when he lifted a tub full of water.
When he came back inside, he locked the door behind him. He had to duck to get through the doorway, and his head was mere inches from the cottage ceiling. I confirmed that the door could only be barred from the inside, and Aaron closed not just one but three separate locking mechanisms on it. I wondered, again, why he was hiding.
“Thank you for the meal,” I said, looking around. We sat at a wooden table that looked handmade. There was only one chair, which I sat in. Aaron sat on a wooden chest that also looked handmade. I had the impression that it was his normal seat anyway. “I can’t believe I just ate something that tried to kill me.”
Aaron smiled. “That’s nearly all there is to eat around here. Dragon is a common meal for me.”
“Now there’s something you don’t hear every day,” I said, peering down at what I now realized were dragon-skin boots. “At least I don’t. You live out here in the forest all by yourself?”
He nodded. “You are the first to visit.”
“No kidding,” I said, looking around the barren room.
Aaron stood to gather the wooden bowls, taking them over to the counter. I watched as he placed them into the basin there, rinsed them with water from a jug, then used a rag and the same soap from the bath to clean them.
Aaron had changed out of his bloody tunic while I wasn’t looking. He wore another one that looked almost the same but in a slightly darker brown. He must have changed while I was in the bath, though I never heard him. It made me wonder what else he could have been doing in silence while I bathed. The image of him changing on the other side of the screen invaded my thoughts. Once again, I had to tell myself not to get distracted.
He’s so big. I wonder if the kickstand matches the bike.
I heard an odd laughing in my mind, and I bit my lips together to keep from laughing out loud. Shut the hell up, I told Evilina. I had a goal, and I needed to stay focused in order to accomplish it. On the other hand, there was something about Aaron rescuing me from a painful death, cooking me dinner, and then doing dishes afterward that was especially endearing. The whole thing was like a bad blind date that had turned wildly around.
Aaron finished the chore and turned to regard me. His eyes reflected the lamplight like a cat. I stared at them for a second too long.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Your eyes are different from mine,” I said. “Can you see in the dark?”
He nodded. “Pretty well. You can’t?”
I shook my head. “No.” That would be so cool!
I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I continued looking around the room. The cot had a thin bedroll that didn’t look very comfortable. He saw me looking and said, “I have a second bedroll that I take out on longer journeys. I will sleep on that. You can take the cot. I will put the screen in front of it if you wish.”
“Okay, thank you.”
An awkward silence loomed, and I contemplated the best way to say good night without being rude. Normally, around this time, I would brush my teeth and fall asleep to whatever fantasy novel I had next on my Tbr. I didn’t have a toothbrush, which would be a problem, but I did have my favorite book. The thought of curling up with that book and a flashlight sounded like a dream.
Aaron broke the silence. “Your face was burned, but it looks fine now,” he said.
I touched my face. He was right. “Must not have actually been burned,” I said.
“It was,” he insisted, “and now you’re healed.” He was trying to tell me something, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
“Aaron,” I said.
“Yes?”
His voice was soft and deep. I shivered, a fuzzy emotion running through me. I had been avoiding analyzing my situation for the sake of stability, but for the first time since I’d been there, I allowed myself to think about my parents and the rest of my friends. I wondered what they had done when I never came back from the woods. Had they assumed the worst? Had my friends formed another search party, this one a little less of an actual party?
They were probably still out there right now. My dad would have called his friends in the Forest Service. My mom would be out on Gem, searching the trails. Marti would be falling apart, and Milo would be consoling her. Spirit would know that I was fine.
Spirit, I thought. Thinking her name tugged at something in my brain. Spirit had known that Rogue was okay. She had known, and she had told me that right before we heard the ghost. And that ghost had been Psycho Snow White. I had a terrible realization. What if Spirit’s knowledge somehow made her a target? My heart skipped a beat as I followed that line of thought. What if Psycho Snow White went back to murder my entire family just for the fun of it? If Aaron’s mother was a psychic seer or whatever, wouldn’t she have predicted that?
“Can you tell me more about the Precognition fragment?” I asked.
“I don’t know that much about it since they don’t teach it in school. My mother just said that she could see cause and effect more clearly than others. She said it was like being very, very good at Daggers and Dragons. She could see a hundred moves ahead, but if someone changed their mind about something, then the future would change.
“Fortunately, she’s very good at predicting what people will do in certain situations or how the environment will affect the outcome. She’s quite gifted, but it also gives her terrible headaches. At least, it did when I saw her last. She could barely function. That’s why they went over there.”
I ignored the Daggers and Dragons comment, assuming the game must be something like chess. “They? Who’s they?” I asked.
“Both my parents and my younger sister.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen,” he said.
“The same year you discovered your reservoir,” I remarked. He didn’t respond but continued looking at the ground. I could see that the subject was painful for him, but I needed to know. “How would going to Earth help your mother?”
“Earth is under a Protection matrix, and all fragments are blunted there. Most people never know they have access. That’s probably why you didn’t know about yours. My mother is from Earth, so she knew her abilities would be limited there and, presumably, so would the side effects.”
I only understood about half of what he’d said. He noticed my confusion and clarified, “Each known world emanates a different fragment. The planet itself may be its source, but they don’t know for sure. The fragment radiating from each world has a dominant presence on that planet, a matrix, and the people who live there tend to be reservoirs for that fragment. Monash emanates the Transformation fragment, so there are many transformers here. Our economy revolves around the use of it. Earth emanates the Protection fragment, which acts as a sort of shield for the whole planet, blocking reservoirs from filling. In the case of my mother, it keeps her sane.”
“If she’s from Earth, I could understand wanting to go back there, but why didn’t they take you with them?” I immediately regretted asking the question. I hadn’t meant to mention that particular subject, but sometimes things just slip out without permission. Like pee when you laugh too hard.
Aaron kept his eyes downcast, his expression haunted.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just met you today. I shouldn’t be asking personal questions.” I shook my head at my own idiocy. “I’ll just . . .” I rose from my chair to walk toward the cot.
“It’s okay,” he said in a voice so soft that I had to strain to hear him. “She warned me you would.” I turned back to face him, but he didn’t meet my eyes.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My mother knew someone would come,” he said. “That’s why they left me here. She said that I needed to help you and that you would be the key to helping me find my way back to my family.”
“Oh,” I said, taken aback. I didn’t know what to say to that. His mother had predicted my arrival in their world, hadn’t known who I would be, and left her only son behind to help me? That was insane. And wrong.
“How long have you been waiting for me?” I asked. I didn’t want to hurt him further, but I felt like I needed to know what I was getting into. And also, selfishly, I wanted to know how old he was.
He took a measured breath and said, “Sixteen years.”
He’s thirty-one. Jesus. Sixteen years—no wonder he was so pissed.
“You must absolutely hate me,” I whispered. I shook my head, bewildered. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.”
He still didn’t look at me. His eyes were red, and his face looked like anger and sorrow warred for dominance. I wanted to hug him. I had been away from my family for less than a day and it already hurt. I couldn’t imagine being separated for so long, alone and trying to survive, never knowing if you would ever see them again. And it was all because of me.
And yet, he still cooked for you and helped you draw a bath.
“I’ll do what I can,” I said. I didn’t know how I would do it, but I would figure out how to help this man.
He nodded, recovering himself a little. “What is it like over there?”
I smiled, grateful for a change of subject. “There’s good and bad. We have a lot of inventions, like this watch. See?” I pressed the side button and the screen lit up, casting a glow in the dim lamplight.
His eyes widened and he drew closer to look.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s a smartwatch. It connects to your phone but . . .” How do you explain a smartwatch? Or a phone? Especially when you’re not even sure how they actually work? “Uh, it lights up,” I said.
“Useful,” he said, stepping back again to lean against the counter.
“I guess,” I said, turning away from him. I stepped over to where my pack lay on the table. “There are too many people there,” I continued as I unzipped my pack. The sound of the zipper startled him, and I laughed, then quickly zipped up and down to make the sound. This whole thing with showing him modern technology would be fun. I dug through the bag to look for the first aid kit. I still needed the ointment for Rogue, and there might be something in there I could use for my teeth.
“There are very few places where you won’t find people roaming around. The cities are huge, with millions of people, and they make a lot of garbage and use a lot of water. In fact, we’re sort of in the middle of a slow-motion apocalypse. The air is so polluted that the entire planet is heating up.”
Aaron stared at me blankly.
“Let’s go there anyway,” I said cheerfully. “It’s not that bad yet, and I can’t live without electricity and indoor plumbing. Or french fries.”
“Do you live in one of these enormous cities?” he asked.
“No, I live with my parents in a forest like this one. I love it there. We have horses. Do you have those here?”
He frowned, shaking his head.
I found the kit, but when I pulled it out, a replacement head for my electric toothbrush fell onto the table. “Yes!” I squealed. “I forgot this was in here.” I clutched the tiny thing to my chest like it was made of solid gold.
I looked over at Aaron excitedly. He had the look, but I didn’t care. “It’s a toothbrush,” I said, holding it up for him to see. “It cleans your teeth.”
He raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. “We have those here too,” he said.
“Oh.” Well, that was anticlimactic. “Do you have any toothpaste?”
For the next hour, I talked Aaron’s ear off, and he asked questions. The awkwardness from earlier had lessened, and he wanted to see what else was in my bag. He tried a granola bar, which he said he liked but didn’t finish. I showed him a steel water bottle, which he thought was ingenious and then spent five minutes screwing and unscrewing the top. I had two of them, both orange with a Giants logo, so I gave him one, and it seemed to make him happy, though it was hard to tell.
We got about halfway through the pack when he noticed that my watch had a photo on it. He had never seen a photo before and stared at it for several minutes, taking my hand to hold the watch up to his face. I showed him how to scroll, and though his face gave away very little, the contact showed me new emotions from him, like wonder and excitement.
He looked at pictures of my life. My friends, my car, the places I had traveled over there. England, Scotland, France, Spain, Italy, Greece, and so on. He saw a picture of my parents, which made him frown. I let him look for a moment, feeling his longing.
“When we find your parents, I’ll take a picture of you with them, just like this,” I said. He nodded but didn’t say anything.
Then, I showed him pictures of Fantasma. “That’s a horse,” I said. “They’re beautiful animals, about the size of that ‘small’ dragon.” I made air quotes around the word “small” like a nerd. “Which makes sense because Fantasma also tried to kill me.” The memory gave me a chill. “I should have eaten her afterward.” Aaron nodded again, not realizing it was a joke.
“Anyway,” I continued, suppressing a giggle, “we ride them all over the forest. My favorite thing in the world is to grab my pack and go ride for hours and be alone with the trees. Alone except for Rogue, that is. There are a lot of similarities to here, actually,” I said. “The trees are the same.” I thought about that for a moment.
Why are the trees the same? In fact, why are the people the same? Almost the same, except for the eyes. The language is nearly identical, with a slightly different accent. That can’t be a coincidence.I thought about the white wolf that had appeared in our forest. I stopped speaking for a minute, lost in thought.
“Aaron, do bridges occur spontaneously?” I looked up to see him staring at me with those reflective blue eyes. He still held my hand.
In that brief moment, I realized something. You know how they say that women decide quickly whether or not they would sleep with someone? Well, I can’t speak for my entire gender since I’m far from average in my tastes and behaviors, but I can tell you that, for me, it’s pretty much true. I was attracted to Aaron from the beginning, but the uniquely bizarre circumstances caused me to be wary and act like a frightened doe. Now that I had calmed down and Aaron was so close, holding my hand, gazing at me with those incredible eyes, and smelling like a goddamn pheromone factory, it was undeniable. This gorgeous man was a big fat hell yeah.
You’ve been here one day, idiot. Stay focused.
Aaron looked back down, letting go of my hand. Right before he let go, I registered something like the shame I’d sensed in him earlier. It was muffled, as if buried.
“Bridges do spontaneously appear,” he said, “but it’s rare.”
I had forgotten what we were talking about and had to snap my attention back. Bridges,right. Maybe the worlds were more closely linked than I thought. If I just stood by that X, would I eventually be sucked up into a portal? Would it hurt like it had before or was that a one-time deal?
I gave Aaron a sideways glance, then looked over at Rogue. He lounged by the door, staring at us. I opened the first aid kit, found the antibiotic ointment, and took it over to Rogue. I crouched next to the smelly furball to dab his burns. They were still visible, and he winced but let me apply the ointment. When I was finished, I walked back over to the table and slumped down in the chair.
“I’m exhausted,” I said honestly.
He nodded. “We should sleep. We’ll walk to the farm tomorrow.”
“The farm?” I asked, sticking the little toothbrush head into a side pocket so I could easily retrieve it. The rest of the bag was a mess that something that small could get lost in.
“Yes, the O’Feld farm. Jorin O’Feld is my uncle by marriage but was sort of a second father to me after my parents . . . Anyway, he might know something useful. And I need to resupply. I’m out of bolts, and I’m almost out of oil. Jorin and Terik, my cousin, resupply me from the farm two or three times per year.”
“Okay,” I said, absorbing the flustering knowledge that I would soon meet multiple members of Aaron’s family. “Can I ask one last thing?”
He nodded.
“How come I don’t have access to the Protection fragment if I’m from Earth?”
“Not everyone does,” he said, pausing, “but you might have it and not know since you’re from over there.” He looked at my face again, his eyes searching where my burns had been, and got a look on his face that I couldn’t decipher.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well, there is a way to find out,” he said. He couldn’t meet my eyes.
“How?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.
“Well, the Protection fragment has two sides to it. Shielding and . . . healing.” His eyes quickly flicked over my body. It was unclear if he was checking for signs of healing or if he was just plain checking me out.
“Uh-huh. Where are you going with this, Bear Guy?” I asked, parking my fists on my hips, and narrowing my eyes exaggeratedly.
He wrinkled his brow. “Bear Guy?” he asked, finally looking at me directly.
“Yeah, cuz you’re as big as a bear and I thought about spraying you with my bear spray when I first saw you. But that was before you saved me from a dragon, cooked me dinner, and informed me that I ruined your whole life. That earned you a reprieve from the bear spray.”
“Bear spray?” His brow deepened further, and my attention shifted back to the gash over his right eye. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it looked angry. Redness had spread from the wound to the surrounding skin. I still had the antibiotic ointment in my hand. I opened the first aid kit again and rummaged through, looking for iodine and a cotton ball.
“Never mind,” I said, pulling out the iodine and bandages. “Just finish your thought.”
He ignored my suggestion, watching me unscrew the iodine bottle and flip it upside down with the cotton ball on top. “I am nowhere near as big as a bear,” he said. His denial was precious, and a smile spread over my face. “I am not big at all,” he said. “You are as tiny as a fledgling oardoo.”
“What the hell is an oardoo? Wait, no, we’re getting off topic again. Go back to the healing thing. But hold still, I’m gonna clean your wound.” I ripped open the bandage, squeezing antibiotic ointment onto the center to use after I cleaned the wound.
“Healing,” he said, looking at the orange cotton ball dubiously, “is a very helpful skill, but it’s frowned upon.”
“Why?” I asked, then interjected, “This might sting.” I lifted myself up onto my tippy toes to reach his face, but he bent his head forward so I could reach him, and I relaxed down. I dabbed his wound with the cotton ball, and he winced but didn’t move. I waved at the cut so it would dry.
He took a big breath as if he were about to deliver devastating news and said, “It’s frowned upon because it feels . . .”
He looked so uncomfortable as I waved at his face that I thought I knew the answer to my earlier question. His emotion then, as now, was embarrassment—not pain—so . . . he felt deep shame surrounding pleasure? It had definitely been the bath that had unnerved him, not me discovering his ability, I decided. And I think he likes me.
Was this a world of extreme sexual repression? Because that’s basically Hell, especially for someone like me. I’m not exactly known for my immaculate chastity. Marti had once called me her most favorite miscreant. I was beginning to wonder if I had, for real, died in the portal and gone to actual Hell. That made me think of what had happened after all that pain: That had definitely not been Hell. Quite the opposite.
Then an idea bloomed in my mind. I had exited that bridge with all my injuries healed. I had thrown aside my wrist brace, and my chest and ankle were completely fine. What if that was connected to the pleasure at the end of my bridge experience?
My mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh. I think I know why,” I said, then I stretched the bandage over his wound, pressing the adhesive sides to his forehead. He let me, and as I touched him, I sensed his relief at not having to explain it.
So, to be mean, I patted his forehead and said, “Because it feels like sex.”
Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. He pulled away from me and covered his face with his hands. It was both sad and adorable and I couldn’t help but laugh. It made me wonder if this enormous thirty-one-year-old man was a virgin. He had been out here alone all this time, supposedly waiting for me, never meeting anyone else, and living in a world where sex is frowned upon?
Yeah, Evilina thought, he might be a virgin. And this is definitely Hell. And holy crap! And, uh, maybe the IUD would be enough protection for us to—
“I should turn in,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to . . . try the healing thing. Ya know, if what I just did doesn’t work.” I gave my handiwork one more look, and then I turned and walked over to the table. I haphazardly stuffed my belongings back inside my bag and headed over to the cot, setting my pack on the floor and flopping myself down. I’m pretty sure he stared after me, but I didn’t look.
A second or two later, he walked over to the privacy screen and dragged it in front of the cot. I wondered why he even had a privacy screen if he was alone out here. It looked old and was painted with little yellow flowers. Maybe it had been his mother’s.
“Aaron,” I said before he finished pulling the screen over. He looked at me from around the side but didn’t answer. “Thanks for . . . rescuing me.”
“Welcome,” he said, one corner of his mouth ticking up. Then he pulled the screen a little more, blocking my view of him.
I exhaled and gave myself a stern lecture about how it was not my job to fix this man’s problems. He was lonely, and I was there and convenient. If this were Earth, he’d seriously have been way out of my league. I’m not hideous or anything, but I’m no Spirit, who performed this amazing magic trick where, upon entering a room, she made everyone else disappear. The thought of her made my heart ache a little.
A quiet clink came from the other side of the screen, then the light went out. I heard Aaron rolling out the second bedroll onto the floor. I looked at my watch. It said 10:30 p.m. I reached down to my pack and grabbed the little toothbrush head out of the side pocket. Aaron had never heard of toothpaste, but he did give me a few semi-dried spearmint leaves to chew. I figured it was probably better to save them for the morning, so I pulled my water bottle out of the bag to use instead. I scrubbed my teeth as I lay there, listening to Aaron breathe.
The bedroll was surprisingly comfortable, like a thin memory foam mattress. This world was full of surprises, it seemed. I finished scrubbing my teeth, then leaned down to tuck the toothbrush head back into the side pocket.
A minute later, I heard Rogue sneaking toward me. He jumped up onto the cot and snuggled his huge body in, half beside me, half on top of me. I thought that I would have a hard time sleeping in this strange world, but Rogue made it almost normal.
His head rested close to mine, and he stretched to lick my face. As he did, I got a powerful emotion from him and I jerked back, surprised. It was pure love. I’d never sensed anything like that from him before, but this feeling was so clear that it left no room for doubt about who he belonged to. I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been about Rogue’s loyalty until relief flooded through me. This was my Rogue.
“I love you, too, Roogy-Roo,” I whispered, smiling at him in the dark.
As I drifted to sleep, one last thought kept running through my mind: Psycho Snow White knew Rogue somehow, and she was the key to getting the information I needed. Maybe he could lead me to her. Maybe I could figure out how to communicate that to him through Connection. I would have to think on it.