A Liar in Paradise

by M H Woodscourt

  “I sure hope so, son,” Dad said, ruffling my hair affectionately, like he used to do when I was ten.

  He didn't believe me. That was fine. I wasn't sure I believed myself.

  I stared down at my thumbs for a while, but my eyes widened as I remembered the voice I thought I'd heard—the mischievous voice of Crenen. Had that been just a figment? Was I insane?

  “I…” I cleared my throat and tried again. “I didn’t…say anything, did I?”

  Dad raised an eyebrow. “You’ve always talked in your sleep, Jason.”

  That was why I asked. “That’s why I asked,” I repeated aloud.

  “You mumbled a few things.”

  “Oh.” I looked at my hands to find them clutching the white blankets. I pried my fingers loose and forced a smile as I met my father’s brown eyes. “So, I'm okay now. Can we go?”

  Dad glanced at my hands and frowned. “What do you think?”

  My eyes traveled down to my hands again, to find them gripping the blankets just as before. I stared, then frowned. Was I really sick? “I, I think we’ve got a ways to go.”

  “You’ve taken the first step, son. You’ve acknowledged that you might need some help.”

  I nodded vaguely, trying to find something to occupy my busy hands. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Resting. She was worried sick.”

  A lump formed in my throat. “Literally?”

  “She just needs some sleep. She’ll be happy to hear that you’re up.” He ruffled my hair again.

  “When...?” I trailed off.

  “When what?”

  “When do you think I can leave?” I had to know if there was the remotest chance I wasn’t crazy; that I hadn’t heard voices in my head—at least, not fake voices. When I returned to my room, if Crenen contacted me again...

  “Doctor Rush will be the judge of that,” he answered. “But if I can convince him to release you, maybe you can sleep in your own bed tonight.”

  I managed a smile. “Good. I want my own pajamas back.” And I wanted to know for sure whether Crenen was real or not.

  “What is it, Jason?”

  “Nothing.”

  He watched me for several moments and then nodded. “I’ll go get your mom. Rest until we come back, okay?” He stood and headed for the door.

  “Key,” I mumbled.

  “What?” He glanced back, hand hovering over the doorknob.

  “Call me Key,” I said, meeting his eyes.

  He stared and then nodded. “If you want.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. Get some sleep. Key.”

  The door shut. I sank into my pillows and closed my eyes.

  The memory of Lon’s words echoed in my head. Was he real? If so, was it his intent to kill me? Why hadn’t he done it while I was in Paradise?

  “Is it possible to return?” I asked the ceiling, amused by my own desire for the world called Paradise to exist, despite every sign that it didn't.

  Laying there, I tried to recall everything I could of my adventure in Paradise. I remembered Crenen well enough, and Lon was vivid now, and flashes of the tall man called Menen also played in my mind’s eye; but there were two people missing—two important pieces to the Paradisaical puzzle.

  Could something this substantial really be a crazy hallucination?

  I could make out the hazy images of fuzzy critters, though their colors escaped me. I rubbed my fingers and remembered a cloud of blood in murky water.

  And a shawl. Something about a silver shawl.

  “You would be headstrong, naturally.”

  The voice that had said those words was familiar, but I couldn’t quite grasp it…

  “If you sleep any longer, I will throw you into the puddle and leave.”

  The icy sensation of plunging into the murky puddle returned, like I was there now.

  “I. Am. Not. A. WOMAN!”

  The urge to bolt slammed into me, but my mind reasoned with the fright. The voice was just a memory—and probably just of an illusion, like everything else.

  “Tell us. Where is Sick Nasty Dog?” Crenen’s voice now.

  “Sick Nasty Dog…?” My eyes widened. “Of course! Jenen!” The image of the man I’d mistaken for a woman flooded my mind. I grinned. How could this be a fantasy conjured by the mind of a psychopath?

  Jenen was the effeminate twin brother of Crenen, just as pale and just as tyrannical, though much more subdued. He wore a silver shawl draped across his shoulders, and while he had a sharp grin like Crenen, it was more solemn and rare.

  Why did they hate each other?

  “I’ve gotta get back.” I wrenched the IV from my arm, tossed my blankets aside, and jumped out of bed, flinging the robe folded on the nightstand around me. My knees caved and I met the floor, wincing at the forming bruises as my knees tingled. “Good job, dolt.”

  The door swung open, and my parents walked in, hands linked.

  “Jason!” Mom cried out.

  “What’re you doing out of bed?” Dad demanded.

  I pushed myself up with my wobbling arms. “Mom, Dad—I’m not crazy.” I laughed. “I'm Vendaeva and I need to get back to Paradise. I have some people to save.”

  They stared. Finally, my father opened his mouth to talk, but before he could find his voice, a cackle ripped through the air.

  “’Bout time, Strange Coward Boy, yeah?” The voice thundered through the room.

  “Crenen! I’m ready to go back! You gonna take me or what?”

  “We think on this…Okay, yeah. Why not?” Again, the malicious laughter, once so frightening, ran down my spine and I thought it a beautiful sound.

  Golden light surrounded me, and I laughed. I was going back to Paradise.

  —I wasn’t delusional.

  11

  Stolen in the Night

  The golden light faded to a dim glow around the edges of my vision, and I found myself standing waist-deep in a silvery lake that reflected the full moons above. It was all strangely familiar. A breeze scattered ripples across the water’s surface as something pulled me toward the center of the water.

  I waded deeper, sensing something beneath the surface. A kind of sentient presence. The water crept up until I was shoulder-deep in the silvery liquid. My eyes scanned the depths.

  It was too dark to see anything beneath the surface.

  The scent of peppermint wafted over me. I knew why this place was familiar. It was the same lake Lon had pushed me into. A shiver ran up my spine and I spun around, gazing into the shadows for any sign of glowing eyes. Something had to be done about that traitor. As soon as I returned to the tree where the others were, I would tell them what he’d done.

  I laughed. All my memories had returned.

  My eyes widened. Had time passed here? If not, how could Crenen have spoken with me? And wouldn’t Lon be standing beside the lake? But if it had passed, what were the chances that I would arrive on the night of a full moon, with the same soft breeze blowing through my long hair?

  —Wait. Long hair? I ran my fingers through the locks that hung down my neck. It was as long as it had been before I returned to Earth. Someone had some explaining to do.

  Oh yeah, the thing in the water. I turned around and gazed into the murky depths again, but its presence had vanished.

  “For all you learned, you yet remain unfocused.”

  My eyes narrowed. Whirling around, I glared at the man who had betrayed me—no, who had betrayed everyone, including his sister. Lon stood before the lake, gazing down at me with an unreadable expression. I wanted to punch that pretty face in.

  “What do you mean, unfocused?”

  A tiny smile broke through his mask, and he softly laughed. I stared. Where before he had stood coldly—an imposing figure of indifference—now he exuded a kind of warmth. The statue had transformed into a human.

  Baffled, I gawked (the nasty habit was returning) and raised my hand. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”

  �
��Me?”

  His smile turned gentle. Something was wrong. Had I landed myself in an alternate Paradise where the inhabitants looked the same, but acted entirely different? Did that mean Crenen would sing hymns and Jenen would tromp around in combat boots and chew tobacco?

  “It’s all right, Vendaeva,” Lon said. He took a step into the water. I noticed his apparel differed from before. It used to be an armored skirt, but now he wore long silken robes of rich purple. His arms were completely bare now, sporting the same tattoo design that adorned his cheek: a red circle through a black sword. The tattoo was both on his upper and lower arms. His gold hair was loose, flowing like liquid in the nighttime draft. I squinted to be sure that I hadn’t mistaken Veija for her brother—only to determine it really was Lon, acting out of character. I was still wary. He could be trying a new tactic.

  “How is it all right?” I asked.

  “It was a test, and you passed.”

  I folded my arms. “Oh, yeah?”

  Lon continued, face serene. “You were homesick. Crenen also knew this. You had to be sent back so that the choice to return here was entirely your own. Only then would you take your appointed task as seriously as you must. Only then could you become Vendaeva.”

  I made a cutting motion with my hands. “Whoa, time out.” I ran through everything that had happened since I returned home.

  Lon seemed to read my thoughts. “You recall placing the gerani in your pocket when Crenen shared a bunch with you in the orchard? Crenen made certain it remained there. We were fearful of what would happen after the gerani was stolen by that girl—which is why Crenen intervened. We had no intention of driving you mad, and so we had to let you know that we were quite real.”

  “But,” my eyes narrowed, “what about when I heard your voice? You were talking about my destruction. What was that?”

  He halted in the pool, robes floating on the water's surface. “Shall I repeat what I said?”

  I nodded; my eyes still narrowed. “Go right ahead.”

  “'Sleep, Key. Soon you must return, or all will be destroyed. You are our last hope, for without the coming Vendaeva all of Paradise will vanish…'”

  Thinking back, his voice hadn't been malicious. There’d been no evil laughter, no taunting monologue. If anything, the whisper in my ear had been gentle, comforting, soothing. “So, you’re telling me that you and Crenen have been in league all this time to make me want to become Vendaeva?”

  He nodded. “In essence, yes.”

  If Crenen’s manipulation riled me, and if Jenen’s taunting angered me, this man’s supposed good intentions were truly infuriating.

  “You’ll catch cold if you remain in there any longer.”

  I glanced down and tried to wriggle my toes. No good. I was half numb. As I started for the shoreline, an earlier observation on his part returned to my mind. “What did you mean, unfocused?”

  He sighed. “When the time is right, you will reach the center.”

  I raised an eyebrow and shook my head. I hated riddles. As I dragged one foot forward in the water, I remembered another question. “Has time passed here?”

  He nodded. “Six months.”

  “Dang, usually it’s not supposed to work like that,” I muttered. Once the hero returned to his own time, the fantastical world halted, remaining paused until he was ready to come back.

  Lon sighed. “This is not a game, Key. This is real. If you don’t know this by now, I propose that I return you to your home so that you can play on your game console and ignore the reality of fact.”

  He knew about consoles and videos games? “How—?”

  “Answers later. Come. Dry clothes, warm food, and sleep await you, along with several eager individuals.”

  “Jenen?”

  He shook his head. “After you were gone for three weeks, he gave up and departed. Of course, he attempted to take Veija, but I put a stop to that.”

  He offered me his hand. I cringed but took it, surprised by its warmth. I allowed him to haul me from the lake with a frown. I‘d wanted to see Jenen. “So, why did you act like such a creep?”

  “Crenen thought it best at the time.”

  As my bare feet touched the dewy grass along the edge of the pool, my body trembled. Fatigue fell over me like a pounding waterfall, and I collapsed to my knees.

  “Vendaeva?” Lon asked, voice still impenetrable.

  I tried to look up, but the effort only drained what little strength remained in my bones. I tumbled forward, into the soft, damp grass, smelling peppermint and dirt.

  “Side effect…wear…eventually…rest…get Crenen…” Lon whispered, voice fading in and out with my vision.

  I tried to nod but couldn’t move. The sounds of the night were loud in my ears as I laid there, unable to see anything but the grass before my eyes. Shivers tried to rack my body, but even those couldn’t break through my immobility. I felt the desperate need to cough…

  Something warm wrapped itself around me and I was turned over onto my back. Mismatched eyes peered at me through my hazy vision and I attempted a smile. It didn't quite work.

  “I would tell you to remain still, but I doubt that will be an issue,” a quiet voice whispered near my ear.

  Wait. That wasn’t Crenen. Then, who?

  …Oh.

  As I felt myself lifted from the grass, I mentally laughed. Once again, I was at Jenen's mercy.

  I might have called for help, had I been able. But, then again, I wasn’t so sure. During my last escapade in Paradise I had run away, destroying any chance of knowing Jenen. As far as I was concerned this time would be different.

  I wasn’t running anymore.

  I woke to the smell of smoke. Wrinkling my nose, I attempted to roll over, but found my body loath to acknowledge my subconscious command. Groaning, I tried again. My leg kicked up for a second, and fell again, tingling with the promise of more bruises. Better, but not good enough. I tried again, but this time my leg didn't bother responding. It took a few seconds to remember why I was having trouble, then memories rushed back, shoving a headache in as a bonus

  Ouch.

  I recalled Lon. The silvery lake. Jenen carrying me away before I could reunite with Crenen. But why can’t I move?

  “Your body is in shock from the journey back to Paradise,” a familiar voice, not far away, answered my mental question. I was almost positive Jenen could read minds.

  Gathering my limited strength, I decided to venture a vocal question now, fixing my eyes on the rising sun and the branches silhouetted against it. “Why am I paralyzed this time, when my first time entering Paradise was just fine?”

  “Because last time you were summoned. This time you came by your own power.”

  “I did?”

  “You invoked the power of Vendaeva and came back of your own will. No one brought you this time.” I heard shuffling. “You’re an accident in the making.” His voice was nearer now.

  I smiled. “My mom always said I attracted accidents.”

  Jenen appeared above me, dark hair framing his pallid face. His expression was quizzical. “No violent urges?”

  I shook my head slightly, feeling tired but satisfied with the effort. “What’s the point. It’s the stupid truth.”

  “This coming from an innate liar.”

  “Yeah, but it's a liar's prerogative to tell the truth from time to time, just to shake things up. When will I be able to move again?”

  “I cannot say for certain,” the Paradisian replied. “Lon mentioned that it would wear off soon, but what that means I can only guess at.”

  “Speaking of Lon,” I ventured, “is he a traitor or a good guy?”

  “Define ‘good guy,'” Jenen said dryly.

  “Right.” I thought for a moment. “Lon shoved me into the lake. Was that at Crenen’s request, or was it independently executed?”

  “I don’t know,” Jenen whispered, disappearing. I heard him sit near me, dirt grating beneath his wrapped feet. “I doubt h
e did anything without Crenen knowing of it; however, Crenen might not have intervened because it coincided with his own agenda. Honestly, I would not trust either of them.”

  Thinking about it now, Jenen might be right. In all my time spent in Paradise only he had really helped me out. When I was poisoned, he prevented my death; then I was captured by his enemy, which forced him to come along. Both of us were pawns in Crenen’s twisted game.

  While I somehow liked Crenen, I wondered about his motives. What was he after? Certainly he employed people on the basis that I was Vendaeva, but he’d made it clear he didn’t really believe in me, and he dragged me along only as a means of getting Jenen to remain to eventually become leader of their clan. But to what purpose? Why would such a self-centered creep like Crenen want to give up his position to his twin brother? What possessed him?

  “Jenen?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the dawn sky. He said nothing, so I decided to assume he was listening. “Why do you hate Crenen?”

  Deathly silence rose between us. Jenen stood up. I listened to the sound of his footsteps until they were too far away to hear. Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but my mind was too full of calculations and questions. It took an age before I drifted into an uneasy slumber.

  I jerked out of shadowed dreams and forced my aching body to sit up. Shuddering, I climbed to my feet and gazed into the darkness. Wait. Nighttime already? Was that possible? Glancing at the black sky, I noted that no stars glittered above and, try as I might, my eyes refused to adjust to the pitch-colored void around me.

  “Jenen?” I called, hearing my voice crack. Nothing, not even the whistling of the wind, reached my ears. That was what had awakened me: utter silence.

  I took one step forward. Adrenaline pumped in my veins, giving me the strength to move. My internal clock was usually broken, but something told me that this blackness wasn't natural. It should be closer to noon, not midnight.

  “Jenen!” I willed my voice to cut through the muted shadows. I thought I heard a response. Veering left, I followed the memory of that distant sound, praying it was Jenen and not something fouler.