The Flame and the Arrow
by
Emigh Cannaday
Copyright © 2008 Emigh Cannaday
All rights reserved.
Cover design by fionajaydemedia.com
Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to those who still believe.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: an ill-timed proposal
Chapter 2: a living legend
Chapter 3: a walk through the trees
Chapter 4: a most magical creature
Chapter 5: electromagnetism
Chapter 6: a smooth operator
Chapter 7: Prince Talvi
Chapter 8: advice on letting one’s guard down
Chapter 9: Finn
Chapter 10: the powers of pixie dust
Chapter 11: a tour guide from heaven
Chapter 12: the Tortoise and the Hare
Chapter 13: a game not worth playing
Chapter 14: Sariel’s family tree
Chapter 15: the healing powers of banitza
Chapter 16: interlude
Chapter 17: black and red
Chapter 18: a night to remember
Chapter 19: recuperation
Chapter 20: Konstantin
Chapter 21: a different living legend
Chapter 22: an apology
Chapter 23: psychotic vampires
Chapter 24: the multiple definitions of what specifically constitutes lying
Chapter 25: Vladislav
Chapter 26: the jealous boyfriend
Chapter 27: an old friend
Chapter 28: love and fear
Chapter 29: Nikola’s honesty
Chapter 30: the prince’s principles
Chapter 31: the fall of the kingdom
Chapter 32: Nikola’s secret
Chapter 33: sirens
Chapter 34: Mesoyadna Bloodwoods
Chapter 35: Ohan the Green
Chapter 36: Aghavni’s terms of negotiation
Chapter 37: discipline
Chapter 38: winter wash day
Chapter 39: the ring thief
Chapter 40: the first sunrise of winter
Chapter 41: new eyes
Chapter 42: Aghavni’s gift
Chapter 43: the snow leopards
Chapter 44: chaos theory
Chapter 45: the Pazachi’s invention
Chapter 46: the girl who fell to Earth
Chapter 47: long time passing
about the author
Chapter 1
an ill-timed proposal
Fidgeting with her keys in one hand and balancing an over-stuffed laundry basket in the other, a very short and very glum redhead walked up the stone steps to a very large and very dilapidated three-story house.
“Annika, is that you? Oh my god, you’re late!” a shrill voice nagged from the kitchen. “I thought you guys were just having a quick dinner before you came over. What the hell took you so long?”
Annika rounded the corner to see an impeccably dressed man in his late twenties getting up from the table as he shut down his laptop.
“I’m not going out tonight, James,” she sighed, dropping the laundry basket by the staircase that led to her old room.
“The hell you’re not,” he said in a tone that found her excuse unacceptable. “We’ve been planning this for like, three weeks.”
“Yeah, well…Danny and I broke up.”
James’ whole body jumped, like he’d been electrocuted.
“What?” he gasped. “But, you just moved in with him! I thought he was hinting at buying you a ring!”
Annika nodded and lifted up her left hand, which was snatched right away by her friend. There on display was an enormous diamond ring that probably cost as much as a small island.
“It wasn’t a hint.”
James let go of her hand and massaged the bridge of his nose underneath his trendy glasses. It was something he did when he was stressed, which happened to be quite often.
“So where’s the part where you broke up?” he asked, still dumbstruck.
“Oh, it was right after the part where he asked me to marry him in front of the entire restaurant! And when I said I wasn’t sure, he basically told me that the band is never going to go anywhere and that I was wasting my time with my music.” Annika stopped speaking just long enough to keep her lower lip from trembling. “He said I needed to grow up.”
“He actually told you that?” James asked, deeply offended. “Like, to your face?”
“Yeah, although I can’t remember if it was before or after he called me an alcoholic party animal.” True, Annika liked to have a good time, but not every night. And if having wine with dinner made her an alcoholic, then Danny was just being ridiculous.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” James’s brown eyes seemed about ready to pop out of his skull. “What the hell is his problem? You guys got together at a friggin’ bar!”
“I know,” Annika agreed, shaking her head. “To be fair, I said a few asinine things to him too, but they’re not worth repeating.” She wiped away a rebellious tear from her cheek. “I just know I can’t marry him.”
“So, um, then why are you still wearing the ring, sweetie?” James couldn’t stop eyeballing the huge rock that glittered every time Annika’s hand moved.
“He told me I could keep it,” she sighed heavily and then sat on the bottom step of the staircase. “I think he’s counting on me coming to my senses. That’s how he put it, anyway.”
“Then he really doesn’t know you at all, does he?” James pointed out, and sat down beside her. “You know, the harder he tried to pin you down, the more you’ve been talking about seeing other people. I’m kind of surprised you guys lasted so long. I had my doubts when you said you were moving in together, but I suppose deep down you weren’t really sure about it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have left so much of your shit in your room upstairs.” Annika glanced at her friend, and an old memory came to mind of when she was a young girl catching fire flies in a glass jar. She would watch them crawl around and light up her bedroom on those summer nights, only to set them free the next morning. It was always her favorite part, to let them go. Now that she was older, she wondered if the insects had felt as trapped in that jar as she had felt in the restaurant when the small, distinctive blue box from Tiffany’s had been given to her.
She studied her left hand as if it had changed into a freakish, yet fascinating shape. She turned her wrist slowly from side to side, letting the light from above catch the cuts of the stone. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t anything she would have chosen for herself since the band was too wide for her to comfortably play guitar.
“It is kinda pretty, I guess,” she confessed with a little smile. “And it’ll keep the boys from hitting on me.”
“If you believe that, then I’ve got a bridge in London I’d like to sell you,” James mused.
An hour later Annika was doing her best to drink her troubles away amidst the blaring music of James’ favorite club. The thumping bass was too loud to hear the condolences that their friends offered, yet it wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the thoughts in her head.
She cared about Danny a lot. True, they didn’t have much in common, but there were plenty of happy couples out there like that, right? At some point during the past two and a half years, all of Annika’s friends had suggested one way or another why Danny was so wrong for her, but she had
n’t seemed to hear them. He wasn’t very daring, or adventurous, or spontaneous. He thought her obsession with music was just a kink in her personality that needed to be worked out. Annika on the other hand, was the type of person who was determined enough to follow a strict band practice schedule, and impulsive enough to drive outside the Portland city limits at three in the morning just to watch a passing meteor shower. She was always out and about, whether it was seeing live shows with her older brother Charlie or going shoe shopping with James. Danny was the opposite. He was a homebody. On the rare occasion that they did go out on the town, it was always the same formula; dinner and a movie. Or a movie and dinner. Or sometimes, it was dinner with his co-workers, where they talked about the hospital they worked at and Annika would try desperately to follow along with their sophisticated jargon.
She used to think that her and Danny were a good balance because she was so free-spirited and he was so…grounded. He drove a nice car, had a nice house, made great money, and she knew she could have been content spending her life with him, but only to a certain extent. There was no passion, no spark, and she began to realize that she would never be fulfilled with him right around the time Danny had begun to look at engagement rings. It was only a matter of time before Annika would have to get her head out of the clouds and deal with the reality of her situation.
By the end of the night her situation consisted of having had too much to drink, thanks to her well-meaning friends. The last thing she remembered was being shoved into the backseat of James’s car, and then being helped to her old room at the top of the stairs.
Annika woke up face down on the floor, rolled halfway under her bed, still in her dress and heels. Her cell phone was ringing in her purse close to her ear.
“Hello?” she mumbled into the receiver.
“‘Allo, Annika, is that you?” A far-away voice crackled in the receiver. She was still a little drunk and extremely confused by the outrageous, thick French accent.
“Charlie?” she croaked. Her mouth was desert-dry from the previous night’s drinking binge.
“No, no, Annika, it’s your favorite uncle.” Annika was silent as her brain reminded her that she only had one uncle.
“Uncle Vince? Why is the connection so bad?” she asked. Usually she could hear him perfectly, but now he sounded like he was talking to her through a tin can and some old string.
“I am in Bulgaria. Did your mother not tell you? I’ve discovered a new praying mantis during my research.”
“That sounds…cool,” Annika stammered as she rubbed her dark blue eyes. “How are you doing other than that?”
“Trés bien, merçi beauçoup,” Vince chirped happily. “Unfortunately, it sounds as if I am doing better than you. I just read your e-mail and I think it would be of benefit for you to pay me a visit. Why don’t you take a holiday and come keep me company, eh? Just for a month or two, and clear your mind of this tragedy de l’amour?”
What e-mail is he talking about? she wondered, racking her frazzled brain. When she glanced up at her nightstand, her heart sank. There was her laptop, with her email account displayed on the screen.
“What would I do there, Vince? Catch grasshoppers?” she asked, wincing as she stood up and sat on the edge of her bed. A serious hangover was just beginning to bloom.
“You can help me if you want. I don’t really give a shit.” She smiled at his accent, and could almost see him waving his be-cigaretted hand in dismissal of the idea of her trying to earn her keep. “You just feed us men a proper meal, eh? You are still a reasonably good chef, oui? Everything I make burns to shit. Isn’t your passport still valid?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Oui, as serious as a…qu’est ce que c’est…a heart attack, no? Isn’t that how the phrase goes?”
“Yeah, serious as a heart attack,” she confirmed. The thought of quitting her waitressing job was less of a concern as the idea of running away grew more and more alluring. “When should I come out there? It’ll take me a while to find a cheap ticket.”
“Come straight away! I will buy you a plane ticket right now, if you just say the word. We are starving over here!”
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I am not shitting with you, Annika,” her uncle said firmly, though she couldn’t help but laugh at his English. “I have my finger on the button.”
“You do not,” she dared.
“Oui, I do!” he dared right back.
“Yeah, if you buy me a ticket, I’ll be on a plane tomorrow,” she joked, still not believing him.
“Consider it done, then. You had better pack your things.” With that final decry Vince promptly hung up. Annika had her doubts, but when she checked her e-mail there was an airline confirmation message for a one-way trip to Sofia, Bulgaria. Out of curiosity she opened the ‘sent mail’ folder and her jaw dropped. In the drunken stupor of last night, she’d poured her heart out to her uncle, sounding miserable and perplexed as to how and why she’d gotten so wrapped up with Danny in the first place. In between the numerous spelling errors she’d begged Vince for advice, saying she doubted that she was really in love, but unsure if she should leave Danny because maybe that was as good as it gets, and she had what most people wanted in a relationship; stability, financial security, someone who spoiled her rotten from time to time. She was slightly embarrassed to have mentioned all this to her uncle, but what was done was done. All she wanted now was time to sort out her thoughts. And Advil. A big bottle of Advil.
Within a matter of hours she was on a plane headed for Sofia, unsure of what her entomologist uncle would have her do. She assumed she’d help translate his academic papers since English wasn’t his first language. As children, her uncle and her mother were born in Macedonia, then later emigrated to France, where Annika’s mother became a hairdresser. There she met Annika’s father, who was in the military at the time. After a light sneeze botched his haircut and he still insisted on paying her, Annika’s mother took him out for coffee. The date clearly went well, because he brought her home to America. Vince had stayed in France, visiting his sister’s family during his university breaks. He was a proper uncle too, teaching Annika and Charlie how to spit, how to swear in French, and how to roll a joint the way he’d learned in Amsterdam.
Vince had always been lean, but when Annika arrived at the airport, she was concerned by his appearance. Apparently his cooking really was shit, because there were dark circles under his eyes and hollows in his gaunt cheeks. He seemed in good spirits, however, and helped her gather her luggage and wait in line through customs, all the while talking with a ready-to-be-lit cigarette dangling in his mouth.
He’d rented a small house less than fifteen miles north of Sofia, and Annika was grateful that he’d chosen to live outside of the city where the air was clean and the Balkan Mountains were practically in her backyard. It was a welcome change of scenery from Vince’s cracker box of an apartment in Paris, with cars whooshing by at all hours of the night in a city so large that it filled the horizon in every direction. When she went to bed at night, all she saw were the stars outside her window that numbered in the billions without the hindrance of light pollution. When she woke up in the morning, all she heard was the musical chirping of birds as summer drew to a reluctant end.
For the first couple of days she focused on translating papers and cooking big meals for Vince and his colleagues from the university in Sofia. They marveled at her skill in the kitchen, devouring the succulent banitza she made on a regular basis; a traditional dish her mother had taught her to make with eggs, yogurt and cheese layered between flaky sheets of filo dough. She basked in pride when they tilted their chairs back and loosened their belts. When Danny had expected her to act more traditional, she wasn’t interested. But when it was her choice she jumped at the chance to impress Vince and his buddies with lemon-herb chicken, or a shepherd’s pie, or chopska salad with garlic mashed potatoes and crème caramel for dessert. Within two
weeks she swore Vince had gained twenty pounds. He looked less emaciated and jollier than ever. When she wasn’t grocery shopping with him or cooking for him or tidying up his little cottage, she spent the rest of her time hiking around the mountains and writing music. Even though she still wore her engagement ring, she thought about Danny less and less. She hadn’t responded to his e-mails where he tried to explain his point of view. They all said the same thing; that he expected her to trade in her guitar for a minivan, that he hoped she’d give up her childish dreams and become something she wasn’t at all interested in being; ordinary.
Sometimes she wrote a few lines of lyrics or music in her journal. Sometimes she scribbled random streams of conscious thought, and sometimes she lay in bed until late in the morning, just relishing her freedom. Nothing made her happier than walking in the sunshine with only fresh air, trees, and the occasional stream entering her view. But even though she was on an extended vacation, she began to grow restless without having regular band practice. She had a few pages of new material, but she hadn’t thought to bring any recording equipment.
“Why don’t you go into the city by yourself tomorrow? There must be someplace you can find what you need,” her uncle suggested one evening as they reviewed field notes together.
“But Vince, I don’t speak Bulgarian,” she reminded him. He took off his reading glasses and looked at her skeptically.
“Oui, but you speak Macedonian just fine. The languages are very similar.”
Annika knew he was right. She’d been to Sofia with him often enough to feel comfortable taking a bus into the city by herself, and the next afternoon was spent shopping and drinking coffee in an outdoor café, soaking up the sun.
Having waitressed for a while, Annika had become quite a people watcher. She could always tell who was on their first date, who was going to leave a crummy tip, and who were the ladies who lunched. Reading people quickly had become second nature to her, so when she noticed a strange looking couple in their mid-twenties come down the sidewalk, she noticed. It wasn’t that they were her own age that got her attention. They just looked different…they even moved differently from everyone else on the street. The petite, slender girl with long, pale blonde hair walked alongside an incredibly tall, handsome young man with a red baseball cap over his shaggy black hair and long sideburns. The girl wore a pair of dark sunglasses that were way too large for her heart-shaped face, and there was at least a foot and a half difference in their height. Annika followed them with her eyes, careful not to stare, but there was something captivating about them. They walked leisurely arm in arm like they had known each other forever. Although the man was very tall, he moved with feline grace as he weaved between the people on the sidewalk. As they passed Annika, he turned her way just long enough for her to catch his glance. Her stomach jumped into her throat before he turned away with a smile. Even if he had a girlfriend, it didn’t hurt to look at the local eye candy. She watched them disappear into a nearby used bookstore and felt a sudden urge to follow them. After leaving a few bills under her coffee cup she headed down the sidewalk, unsure as to the reason why.
The place was exactly what an old eastern European bookstore might be expected to look like. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and there were only two windows to let in the minimum amount of light required for browsing. It was warm, stuffy, and in dire need of a good dusting. Annika stood on the opposite side of the shelf from the strange couple. She picked up a thick book without looking at the title and pretended to read, noticing the girl’s exotic feather earrings instead, observing from between the rows of books. The blonde had a sheer white peasant-style blouse on, belted with a long, narrow green sash. The sleeves were pushed up past her forearms, and held in place with a long leather cord looped and tied around her biceps. She wore a few beaded bracelets on her wrists, a fringed skirt that buckled over her hips, and brown boots that laced up to her knees. It seemed to Annika that her clothing must have been hand-made. She’d never seen anyone dressed in such a way before. The blonde had her nose crammed in one of the books, trying to read through her huge dark sunglasses. The young man reached over and gently tilted her chin upwards, removing them carefully with an air of affection.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” his girlfriend asked him with a goofy grin.
Because you’re a stupid blonde airhead, was Annika’s catty but silent response. The man didn’t reply, but instead tucked the glasses into the torn pocket of a dark brown velvet dinner jacket that had been stitched, and had clearly seen better days. His pants were made of black suede, but they were so broken in that they seemed less fashionable and more functional. His calf-length black leather boots were fastened with tarnished silver buckles running up the outsides, and appeared just as worn as his pants. He had taken his cap off and was running his fingers through his black mane. It stuck out in every direction with a mind of its own and looked every bit as ornery as he did.
The blonde hissed at him, looking annoyed, and tried to snatch the ball cap away from him. He made a game of it, holding it high above her head as she was just as short as Annika. He hissed back to the blonde in a language she didn’t recognize, but it seemed that his girlfriend was annoyed that he’d taken off the hat, and he was annoyed that he should bother wearing it. The girl grabbed another nearby book and the young man stuffed his hat into her purse and sauntered away.
The door to the shop opened again, and another short young woman with long, light brown hair walked in. Dressed almost identically as the blonde, her hair looked like she’d spent the past hour riding on the back of a motorcycle. Annika swore she saw a few twigs stuck in the honey-brown snarls. The blonde motioned for her friend to come over, and they spoke in hushed voices in the strange language.
Annika’s curiosity wandered to their male companion, who had disappeared. She walked to the end of the aisle and peeked around the corner, but he wasn’t there. As she whirled around, Annika ran right smack into one of the customers, dropping her book with a loud clunk to the floor. The man behind the counter gave them a stern look, and went back to reading his novel.
“I’m so sorry!” Annika sputtered, feeling thoroughly embarrassed as she realized she was staring at two black boots fastened with dusty silver buckles. She forced herself to look up and into the face of the guy she’d been stalking, and was pleasantly surprised to find him even better looking from scarcely a foot away. She felt her insides constrict as he studied her with a curious expression. There were subtle changes in his eyes as if he were hearing her thoughts and speaking to her without words. She caught a whiff of late summer air laced with honeysuckle as he leaned down to retrieve the book for her, but the windows weren’t open.
“What have you here?” he asked her, flipping through the pages of the book. She recognized an English accent. His brow raised and he gave her an odd look as the corner of his mouth curled upward. “Interesting.” He thumbed quickly from cover to cover. His mouth was pressed shut in a peculiar way, like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Very interesting. I cannot picture a girl like you finding this subject very fascinating, but I’ll let you get back to your reading,” he told her as he held out the book. Annika looked closer at the cover, which wobbled slightly from the silent laughter that shook him. It was a history of artificial bovine insemination. Her eyes grew wide in horror and she felt uncomfortably warm.
“I must have misread the title! I thought it was about…I didn’t…I thought…”
“I thought you would have noticed what you were reading by now,” he said in a soft, smooth voice while flashing a smug grin. “You’ve certainly been clutching that book long enough.”
Annika was mortified that he’d caught her spying on him. She wanted to drop the book and run, but her feet were like lead. She expected him to walk back over to his girlfriend, but he simply ran his fingers through his hair, watching her with a curious twinkle in his eyes. She’d never seen ones like his; they were outlined in deep green with bright blue surrou
nding those infinite irises. There was something else odd about him but she couldn’t pinpoint it; there were just too many odd things to count.
“Where are you from?” he asked. “Your accent is completely different than the locals.” At first Annika was surprised. He was asking her? He was the one with the English accent.
“I’ve lived all around the world, but mostly in the States.”
“The states of what, madness?”
“The United States of America.” Annika tried not to grin at his joke. His eyebrows rose slightly as he made the connection.
“Ah yes…I’ve heard rumors about American girls.” An amused grin played on his lips and he gave the tiniest nod of approval. “You’ll have to tell me if they’re true.” He tilted his head to one side, letting his eyes wander over her curves. “Although I have to say…I’d rather you show me.”
She wrinkled her forehead at this reply, uncertain if he was mocking her or not.
“Where are you from that you think it’s okay to talk to strangers that way? One of the caves up north? You don’t seem like you go out in public very often,” she retorted, eyeing his mended velvet jacket.
“You are quite a saucy girl, aren’t you,” he remarked with an amused grin. “I hoped you would be.”
She saw an image flash in front of her eyes, like a memory surfacing, but there was no way this fleeting sight had happened before. She could see herself crushed against his chest with his hand cradling the back of her neck, about to be kissed. She shook her head, wondering where this vision had come from. It certainly wasn’t one of hers.
“I’m from Derbedrossivic, not that far away. It’s those lovely creatures over there who live in a cave,” he said with a straight face as he pointed over his shoulder at the blonde and her friend. Usually Annika could play it so cool with men. Usually she could just laugh at whatever lines they told her or walk away from whatever smooth moves they made, so why was this one affecting her composure? She tried, but she couldn’t budge. It was as if he were holding her there with invisible rope. The young man stepped even closer to her in his catlike way of moving, emphasizing how much he towered over her. The scent of spices and honeysuckle returned, but that window was still shut tight.
“Here’s a volume I think you might fancy…” he noted as a different book caught his eye. He reached seductively up over her head, selecting another older book with a tattered green cover before passing it to her. She could see that it was a history not of bovine insemination, but of stringed instruments, particularly guitars. She eyed him suspiciously.
“Why did you choose this one?” Annika asked, completely unnerved. She’d never seen this person before in her life, yet he somehow knew that she had a passion for music. “What makes you think that I’m interested in this kind of thing?”
“It was just a guess,” he said and pressed it into her hands. “Am I correct?”
Annika couldn’t get over the way he was looking at her, like he’d just discovered a rare work of art or a map leading to treasure. She found herself nodding her head at his question, trying not to lose herself in his gaze.
“It wasn’t merely a guess. I noticed the callouses on your fingers and how short you keep your nails,” he said, looking very impressed with himself. “I play guitar as well. I have this very text at home.”
Before Annika could respond she heard the shopkeeper grumbling to a customer up at the cash register.
“Don’t you have any bills smaller than these?” the irritated man complained in broken English. “I cannot make change for you. You will have to buy something else or give me a smaller bill.”
“I’m sorry, this is all I have,” said the messy-haired girl as she dumped the contents of her leather bag onto the counter. Coins bounced to the floor and notes fluttered on top of the small stack of books. The bookseller had been irritated with her before, but now his expression changed to one of sheer frustration as she began laying out each bill like she barely knew how to use money.
“I can never figure this out. Let’s see…” She started counting out bills and added them up to the correct number. “Is that right?”
The man nodded, muttering something incomprehensible. Satisfied, the young woman stuffed the rest of the money in her bag while he put the books in a paper sack.
“Magda?” Annika heard from nearby. The voice came from the blonde who was now standing next to the handsome man in the odd outfit. “Is that you?” She squinted her dark brown eyes until they were two dark slits in her face.
“Sorry, but I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” said Annika. The girl looked obsessed with her, and Annika found herself glancing around for the nearest exit. Then to make things worse, her friend joined them, lugging the heavy bag.
“Look, Hilda! It’s Magda, I swear!” Hilda leaned her face so close to Annika that she backed up against the bookshelf.
“My name isn’t Magda. It’s Annika Brisby. I’m not from here and I don’t know anyone named Magda.” She was quickly losing her patience with these people who had no regard for personal space.
“Runa, love, it’s not her,” the young man said gently, putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder.
“How would you know?” she snapped at him with a scowl before turning back to Annika. “Oh, it has to be you! Your hair is different, but you have her face and her eyes!” Annika tried to leave, but she was blocked by the three strangers. The blonde girl reached out her hands and grabbed Annika’s t-shirt, lifting it up to expose her waist. At this, Annika instinctively jumped back, and knocked over a small bookshelf. Then the smaller bookshelf fell into a larger one and knocked it down. And the larger bookshelf knocked down another, and another, like dominoes. Annika scrambled to her feet, leapt over the mess, and out the door as the shopkeeper turned an unnatural shade of purple and bellowed at them in Bulgarian. Annika was pretty sure he was threatening to call the police, as she had done a remarkable job of vandalizing his store.
She ran as fast as she could down the block, looking over her shoulder to see if the furious bookstore owner was chasing her. To her surprise she saw the three people she’d just met running after her instead. Just then the dark blonde’s paper bag tore, spilling its contents all over the sidewalk. The girls stopped and turned around to gather the books, but the dark-haired young man kept running towards her.
He won’t even stop and help his girlfriend? What a jerk! she thought as she began to grow winded. Why is he chasing me? Should I stop? She wasn’t even thinking about where she was going, but the next thing she knew she was climbing onto a bus. She had no clue where it was headed when she paid the fare, but she walked to the rear and took a seat anyway, huffing as she tried to catch her breath. She looked down at her lap and realized she was still clutching the book about stringed instruments. She sunk low into her seat with just enough room to peek out the window. Enough time passed that it was clear the shopkeeper wasn’t going to involve the police over an old book on guitars, but there was one man who came into view; the one who had put the book in her hands.
The bus rumbled as the driver turned the ignition switch and put it into first gear, and Annika coaxed her window down to get a better look at him. Over the chaos and noise of the traffic in the street, he managed to spot her and dodged the cars and trucks to reach the bus. Grabbing ahold of the windowpane, he pulled himself up along the outside, and Annika knew he’d have crawled right through it if it were bigger. The bus was headed for a narrow street made even narrower by a large truck parked up ahead. If he didn’t let go soon he’d be crushed into it. She opened her mouth to warn him, but no words came out. He, however, flashed his brilliant smile at her with absolute confidence.
“Annika Brisby…” he said, savoring her name just before he let go. “I’ve been wondering when I would finally meet you.”
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