by Sarah Noffke
“Seriously, if Papa Creola gets up here, we’re screwed,” Rudolf nearly yelled, whipping his head between the locked door and the one on the other side of the shop which was vibrating from the ever-growing thunder behind it.
“Is he your papa?” Liv asked, unable to keep her curiosity quiet even if they were minutes away from death.
Rudolf shook his head. “No. I mean, yes. He’s sort of the father of us all.”
Liv’s face scrunched with confusion. “Say what?”
“He’s the father of time,” Rudolf explained, jumping up on the sill of the window at the front and working on getting the curtain rod down.
“Then why doesn’t he reside in a clock shop?” Liv asked, directing her finger at the rod and breaking it in two using magic. One of the pieces flew down to her open hand. The other landed with a thud on Rudolf’s head, making him stumble off the ledge. He rubbed the top of his head where he’d been hit, picking up the rod off the ground.
“Ouch. We’re supposed to be working together, not hurting each other,” Rudolf informed her, still massaging his head. “And it would be sort of obvious if he ran a clock shop, don’t you think? Especially because he’s in hiding.”
Liv swung the makeshift weapon, noticing how different and mediocre it felt in contrast to holding Bellator. She should have brought the sword with her, but she hadn’t expected to be fighting the father of time, and she’d thought it best to leave it behind until she was formally trained.
“Why is the father of time in hiding?” Liv dared to ask as the thunder got even louder.
“Nobody knows,” Rudolf stated, putting his back to Liv’s and holding the rod like a baseball bat.
“And you stole his gem, is that right?”
“I took back my property,” Rudolf countered.
The thunder ceased, making Liv feel like she’d suddenly gone deaf. She glanced over her shoulder. “Is there a possibility that Papa Creola forgot about us or decided to let us go?”
Rudolf backed up a step. “Not a chance. It’s been nice knowing you, Liv Beaufont, Warrior for the House of Seven.”
Liv tensed. “I hope this was worth it, dipshit.”
Rudolf coughed. “Another nickname I don’t approve of.”
The door at the back creaked. Liv squinted, trying to make out the dark figure in the distance. A scurrying noise behind the counter stole her attention.
When she looked up, she was not prepared for what appeared in the doorway.
The father of time was simply adorable.
Chapter Twelve
Unlike Subner, who had a face full of wrinkles and a sour expression, Papa Creola had smooth skin and rosy cheeks. His long white beard hung in loose ringlets, and on his head was a cone-shaped hat, and to Liv’s surprise, he started whistling as he strode forward.
“Is it possible this was all a misunderstanding, and he’s come to talk it out?” Liv asked Rudolf from the corner of her mouth.
“No, it’s worse that he’s acting so nonchalant,” Rudolf answered, pressing more firmly into Liv, nearly making her topple over.
With his hands behind his back, Papa Creola swayed, his eyes on the case from which Rudolf had removed the purple gem.
“I figured you’d be back, Rudolphus,” the little man said, his voice as cheerful as if he’d just thought of a joke.
“It’s mine,” Rudolf argued, gripping the rod tighter.
Papa Creola halted, his sparkling blue eyes connecting with the pair. He chuckled and rocked forward on his toes and back on his heels. “Of course it is, Rudolphus, but you should know as well as anyone how a thief works. It was yours and then I stole it, which makes it mine now.” He held out a stumpy little hand and wriggled his fingers. “Give it back, and I’ll let you go.”
“No!” Rudolf yelled. “And you’d never let us go from here unharmed. Not after what we did.”
The gnome’s eyes flickered to Liv, and she suddenly felt a chill. A thousand years had passed in a tomb. Her body lay cold in the ground. Winds swept across the desert, stirring up sand and creating a new landscape. Ages later, the planet was different, and yet time remained the same. A constant ticking.
She had the urge to clap her hand to her chest and ensure her heart was still beating. To look in a mirror to check that she hadn’t rapidly aged. To lie down and rest in a bed where she might one day die.
Shaking off the strange thoughts that didn’t seem like her own, she straightened, not breaking eye contact with the gnome.
“Olivia Beaufont. I should have known you’d be the one to rouse me from my slumber,” Papa Creola said, sounding amused.
“Ummm, have we met? And by the way, my name is Liv.”
He nodded. “Yes, my apologies. Only for the first seventeen years did you go by your given name. And this one you’ll keep for…well, I mustn’t offer spoilers. That’s gotten me in trouble a time or two.”
His eyes slid back to Rudolf. “Clever, bringing a Warrior from the House of Seven in here. You aren’t as stupid as you look, Rudolphus.”
“Thank you,” Rudolf said proudly, a half-smile forming on his face.
“It sounds like this has all been a misunderstanding,” Liv said, trying to see where Plato was. “Would you mind opening the door, and then I’ll be on my way? You can kill this fae if you’d like.”
“Hey!” Rudolf protested.
Papa Creola laughed. “I do plan on getting rid of Rudolphus. He has really been on this planet for too long. But I can’t permit you to go, Warrior Beaufont, for fear you’ll tell others about me. It is so tiresome moving about.” He looked around fondly at the shop covered in dust and cobwebs. “I was starting to take a liking to this place, and will miss it.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t talk to anyone,” Liv said at once. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you or that you’re here. You can go about your business or whatever you do.”
The jovial expression fell away from his face. “I do nothing. That’s the point.”
“Right, sounds lovely,” Liv said pleasantly. “Well, that secret is safe with me. Just open this door here, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Yes, I don’t plan on killing you. I might steal and cheat and deceive, but I keep my word. No Warrior will die by my hand,” Papa Creola stated. “I’ll just wipe your memory clean of everything, and you can be on your way.” He chuckled, scratching his belly. “Well, you won’t know your way, because you’ll be forever lost. But you’ll be alive, as I promised.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good deal,” Liv said in a muffled voice over her shoulder to Rudolf.
“No, I think death is probably better,” he agreed.
“Give him back the gem you took,” Liv encouraged.
He shook his head. “Not a chance. There are some things worth fighting for. Yours might be family, but this is mine.”
“I took that stone from you for a reason,” Papa Creola cut in. “It should belong to me.” He swept his arms wide at the cases all around the room. “These objects are better kept away from greedy fae and disillusioned elves and whatnot. The House of Seven agreed with me, which was why they helped me to round them up.”
“What?” Liv asked, not expecting this. “Warriors stole these for you?”
He pointed at Rudolf’s pocket. “Your own mother took that gem from Rudolphus, which was why you could open the case.”
“What?” Liv repeated, having a hard time keeping up with all this strange information.
“Oh, but my dear boy Rudolphus would have known that, wouldn’t you?” Father of time asked the fae with a quizzical expression on his face.
“I-I-I never got a good look at the perpetrator,” Rudolf stuttered.
“Yes, only the back of her head as she fled, her long blonde hair flying behind her.” He hugged himself, smiling. “Oh, I do so love long-ago memories. Show me more of them, lad.”
“Why would my mother steal this gem for you?” Liv asked Papa Creola.
“Because,” he beg
an, rocking forward and backward again, “these objects aren’t safe out there. These things—they don’t agree with the passage of time.”
“What do you care about the passing of time?” Rudolf fired back, his face pinched with anger. All his normal lightness was gone, replaced by a bitter expression. “You abandoned us, hiding yourself away here.”
Papa Creola shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You’re selfish, fae. You don’t get it, and I don’t expect you to. Several millennia of watching over things have changed nothing. The winds fluctuate, sometimes blowing hard or diminishing to a tiny breeze. The oceans change with the tides. Even the seasons are varied. All the other fathers and mothers on this planet have jobs, but time?” He yawned loudly, drumming his hand over his mouth. “It is always the same. Each second is the same length. Each minute is equal to the next. What you young’uns fail to see is that there is nothing for me to manage.” He laughed as if suddenly thinking of something. “Well, I had to keep you all out of trouble, putting away all the artifacts one could undo time with, creating problems for the continuum.” Fondly he looked around. “Now that this has been done, I’m really not needed, which makes for a well-deserved retirement.”
“But you’re the father of time,” Liv argued. “You can’t simply retire and disappear.”
He nodded. “Spoken like a true Warrior. Yes, that was what your mother told me. I regret not wiping her memory, because she stalked me for many years. I finally found this place, safely hidden from even the best detective, which she happened to be. I won’t be making the same mistake with you, Warrior Beaufont, which is why I’ve taken it upon myself to tell this story, which few have heard.” He smiled, rubbing his hands on his arms like he was suddenly cold. “It’s been nice to recount the story to someone. Makes me remember why I did it in the first place. But the time is approaching for me to wipe your memory and banish Rudolphus to the underworld, where he shall burn for… Well, honestly, I’ve got no clue where you all go when you die. That one still eludes me.”
Papa Creola raised his hand, pointing at Liv. “It sort of pains me to do this, although I know it is for the best.”
“Rudolf,” Liv said in a whisper. “Do something.”
“I think I’m about to wet myself,” he answered. “Will that work?”
Three things happened simultaneously. Liv’s hand instinctively shot into the air. Plato’s black and white head poked out from under the counter, a rusty key clenched in his teeth. A wisp of white smoke drifted from Papa Creola’s fingertips.
A shield shot up between the pair and the father of time. His memory charm bounced off it, shattering like glass in the air. Rudolf sprinted forward, taking the key from Plato and going to work on the many locks on the door.
“Oh, just as clever as Guinevere Beaufont, and I dare say a smidge faster,” Papa Creola said. “But we all know a Warrior’s shield won’t hold against a gnome’s secret weapon.”
Actually, some of us didn’t know that, Liv thought. Her eyes cut to Rudolf, who only had one of the locks undone.
When she turned back around, Papa Creola was winding up his arm as if he were about to pitch a ball at a batter. In his hand a spark materialized, building hotter and faster until it formed a fireball.
“Are you serious?” Liv mumbled. “F-ing fireballs. This isn’t fair.”
Like a major league pitcher, the father of time released the fireball, which headed straight for Rudolf. Liv couldn’t believe herself when she darted in front of the fae, knocking the fireball toward the back wall with the wooden rod. It crashed, knocking over a set of jars.
The gnome relentlessly launched three more attacks at them one right after the other. The rod broke in half on the third hit, and Liv dropped the smoking stick and ran over to one of the nearby cases.
Reading what she was about to do, Papa Creola shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Don’t you do it, Warrior Beaufont.”
She placed her hand on the case, and as it had before, it opened like a box. Hardly taking a moment to look, she reached in and grabbed the first object she could find. It was a mirror. She held it up, giving the father of time a challenging look. “Let us go, or I’ll break it.”
He laughed, but there was no joy in the noise. “Like I care.”
“You care, or you would have destroyed these objects already,” Liv stated, hoping her observation was correct.
Apprehension crossed Papa Creola’s face. She was right.
He released another fireball, throwing it at lightning speed. She had almost no time to react, swinging the hand mirror like a makeshift bat. The fire dissolved almost at once after making contact. Amazed by the reaction, Liv lifted the mirror up to stare at it in awe, but she saw an image that nearly caused her to drop it. The mirror hiccupped in her hands, but thankfully she kept hold of it.
Looking back at her from the mirror was her own face, but no longer smooth and young. An old woman stared back at her, her eyes dripping with wrinkles, ancient wisdom in her blue eyes.
“Damn it, Warrior Beaufont, now you’ve done it,” Papa Creola growled. “I vowed that no one would see the future again or play with time. I should have known you’d be just as much trouble as your mother. No more Mr. Nice Father of Time.”
Rudolf swung around, horror in his eyes. “Duck!” he yelled as a barrage of fireballs rained down from overhead.
Liv dove under the nearest counter as the fireballs crashed, singeing her cape as she yanked it to her. The scorching heat from the flames made her face feel as if it were on fire. It was too much. The fireballs were getting too close. She was about to admit defeat when a blast of icy wind rushed across her face.
A hand reached down from the other side of the counter, a brute force that she couldn’t resist. Liv was yanked out and upright. She hardly had a chance to make out the scene around her before Rudolf pulled her out the unlocked door onto Roya Lane.
Over her shoulder she spied the father of time, frozen in a small patch of ice, his hand extended as a small fireball ignited.
Chapter Thirteen
Liv kept running once they were on the cobbled path but quickly realized that Rudolf wasn’t beside her. She turned around to find him doubled over, his hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.
She went back, staring frantically at the open shop door they’d just exited. “Hey, let’s get out of here. He’ll thaw out any second now.”
Rudolf shook his head as he lifted up. “No, he won’t dare come out on the street. One sighting of him and his precious retirement will be over.”
Liv shivered at the thought of nearly getting burned to death and tugged Rudolf forward. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to chance it.”
He gave her a sideways smile as they ambled down the crowded path, their clothes still smoking in places.
“Why are you smiling at me, Liar Pants?” she asked, searching the upcoming area with new paranoia.
“You’re not as mad at me as I thought you’d be. You are pulling me along with you,” Rudolf gloated.
“I’m still livid, and I’m planning on taking you to an abandoned warehouse so I can kill you slowly. Someplace no one can hear you scream and the body won’t be found for ages.”
He laughed. “No, you’re not.”
Liv sighed. “No, I’m not. You saved my life back there. I don’t have a lot of rules I operate on, but one of them is that you don’t punish someone who is the reason you’re still alive.”
Rudolf gave her an affectionate smile. “Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that Papa Creola wasn’t going to kill you. He was trying to kill me, and simply disarm you long enough so he could wipe your memory.”
“No, you definitely shouldn’t have told me that. Now all the goodwill I felt toward you is gone.”
He shrugged as they walked. “But I did save you, in a way.”
“Yes, the ice magic was handy,” Liv admitted. “Why didn’t you just do that in the first place? Ice magic is a gift of the fae, correct?”<
br />
“Yes.” Rudolf sighed, suddenly looking exhausted. “As you could have probably seen, it didn’t last long enough. As soon as I froze him, he began to melt. Furthermore, that spell cost me a great deal of energy. If I’d done it before we had the locks off the door, I would have passed out before we could get out of the shop.”
Liv nodded, understanding. Her own reserves were quite low. “Where can I get some frozen yogurt or candy that won’t cause me to hallucinate?”
Rudolf gave her a repulsed expression. “Why would you waste your time on fake ice cream and cheap candy when you can have double-Dutch twelve-layer grenache cake topped with vanilla bean ice cream?”
“Excuse me for not having an answer to that,” Liv stated, feeling her feet starting to drag more with each step they took. “Just take me to this place and ensure there isn’t poison in it, or whatever strange stuff the magical creatures lace into their meals on Roya Lane.”
Rudolf pointed at a restaurant up ahead. It had two pillars out front that looked like they were sculpted out of marshmallow. “This is my favorite place,” the fae said, leading the way.
Liv read the sign above the door and instantly cringed: The Sugary Nipple.
“This place better be legit and not have pole dancers,” she warned.
“Don’t worry. It doesn’t. Today is Wednesday,” Rudolf stated, opening the large door for her.
Neither of them spoke until they’d finished half their dessert. The ice cream had partially melted, creating a moat of vanilla around the crumbling tower of cake. Liv licked chocolate syrup off her fingertips and regarded Rudolf with a disgusted stare. “You tricked me.”
He gave her a rueful expression as he licked whipped cream off his spoon. “That is most regrettable, but it was unavoidable.”
“I wonder if any fae anywhere has ever tried just telling the truth and being straightforward,” Liv mused.
Rudolf blinked as if contemplating this question. “I don’t think so, but in my defense, you wouldn’t have accompanied me if I had given you the full details.”