by Kristie Cook
“Mia!” I hear my mom calling me from downstairs. I grab my purse and maroon vest and head down to see what’s up.
“Yeah?” I ask her as I enter the living room. She is watching the forecast on The Weather Channel intently, her brow furrowed, as she subconsciously gnaws at her nails, something she only does when she is nervous.
“The roads are really bad right now, so I want you to drive extra careful to and from work today. Go slower than the speed limit and take your time, promise?” Geez, she looks so worried. It must be stressful being a mom and having to worry constantly about your kids and all the dangers the outside world holds for them.
“Of course, Mom. I’ll be super careful, I promise,” I try to reassure her. “And I promise to text you when I get there and when I’m heading home, okay?”
That seems to make her feel a little better, so I hug her good-bye and kiss Maddie Rose on the top of her head.
“Bye-bye Mi-mi!” Maddie waves as I grab my heavy coat, hat, scarf and gloves. I don’t mess around when it comes to winter weather. I may love autumn in the Midwest, but I detest our winters.
“Bye-bye Maddie. See you soon.” I blow her one more kiss as I walk out the door.
The freezing wind immediately slaps me in the face taking my breath away, so I walk a little faster than I should to my car just to escape it, slipping and sliding along the way. Whoa. If it’s this bad already, the roads are going to be terrible once the snow storm hits. Maybe mom wasn’t over-reacting in her usual melodramatic way after all. For a moment, I’m tempted to call into work. I mean, really? How many people are going to brave a blizzard just to see a movie on opening weekend? I tell myself to stop being a wuss and slowly pull out of our driveway.
I decide to skip the back roads today, knowing that the highway and main roads will be much safer. Even though they are in much better shape than the side streets, it still takes me twice as long to get there. Not only is the ground slick, but the strong wind threatens to blow my car off the road with every gust. Not a great combination. The hill that leads down to the movie theater parking lot is very steep, and I’m dreading the slippery descent. I’m so busy fretting over the approaching hill that I almost miss seeing Brian walking along the road. He isn’t wearing a hat or even a coat, but rather just his normal threadbare pants and work shirt.
He must be crazy! I would have definitely called in if I couldn’t get my car to start this morning. There’s no way I would ever attempt walking in this mess. I know I would never forgive myself if I didn’t offer him a ride. I slow down even further and pull up next to him. He practically jumps in my car, shivering and red-faced from the icy wind. I turn the heat up to full blast and pull off of the median.
“Thanks,” he manages to get out. He holds his hands up in front of the heat. “I seriously thought I was going to freeze to death before I made it to the theater.”
“No kidding. I don’t know what you were thinking. I’m sure Dave would have understood you calling in this morning.”
“I haven’t missed a day yet. Not gonna let a little blizzard keep me home. Not when I have a job to do.”
I think this’s the most he has ever said to me. Normally it’s just stares and a few words of thanks mumbled every now and then. Hmm. Maybe I completely misjudged him and he isn’t creepy, just shy. Maybe he was staring at me because he was trying to figure out what to say. I could sort of understand that. I often find myself wondering what I should say. Although I’m pretty sure I don’t blatantly stare at people giving off a creepy vibe when I’m at a loss for words. At least I hope not.
I’m so absorbed in my own thoughts that I take the next corner too quickly and lose control of my car. Suddenly, we are swerving wildly and sliding all over the steep hill. I hear screaming and realize a moment later that the frantic cries are my own. I struggle with the wheel, desperately trying to regain control of the car as we hurtle straight toward a telephone pole. My attempts to steer fail entirely and we crash. Hard. I hear a horrific shattering of glass right before the airbags deploy. It takes me a second to catch my breath before I realize I’m alone inside the car.
I look through the shattered windshield and see a dark mass lying about ten feet away from my car. Brian, shivering so much from walking in the cold, must have forgotten to put on his seatbelt and is now lying in patch of a red stained snow.
As the panic sets in, I suddenly notice a strange tingling sensation in my fingertips, similar to the pins-and-needles numbness I feel when my foot falls asleep. Not even thinking about my own possible injuries, I immediately jump out of my car and run over to try to help Brian. He is unconscious, and while he sustained multiple cuts all over his body from flying through my windshield, the most critical injury seems to be the deep gash on his forehead. I check for a pulse, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t tell if he even has one. There’s blood everywhere. I’ve never seen so much blood before and it’s making me feel sick to my stomach. I apply firm pressure to Brian’s gaping head wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding as I try to figure out how in the world I’m going to get help.
Since the theater isn’t open yet, the nearby parking lot is empty, so no one witnessed our accident. As I sit there trying to figure out what I should do, the tingling sensation in my fingers gets stronger and stronger, making me think that I may have some nerve damage or some other injury that’s being masked by the adrenaline surging through my veins. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar truck rapidly approaching us.
Oh, thank God.
It’s Grey. He will be able to call for help.
He gets out of his truck, running over to where I am sitting in the snow next to Brian.
“Are you okay? What happened?” he nearly shouts.
“I lost control of the car and we hit the telephone pole. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. I have been trying to stop the bleeding and haven’t had a chance to call 911 yet, so can you please do that?”
I stumble through the words so fast they all kind of run together. He just stands there, his mouth hanging open in shock. Can’t he see that Brian is bleeding to death? I don’t care how creepy a guy is, you don’t just stand there doing nothing when he is hurt.
“Greyson! Call 911!” I yell at him, confused as to why he’s not immediately jumping to action.
“This isn’t good. Why did you have to pick him up? I told you not to.” He doesn’t yell, in fact he practically whispers the words, but there’s a nervous edge in his voice. I’m dumbfounded that he’s being such a jerk when Brian could be dying.
“Greyson! Seriously! I can’t believe you are acting like this. It’s freezing outside! I wasn’t going to make him walk in a freaking blizzard! He is seriously hurt which is why I need you to stop being a dick and call 911. We need help!”
“No, Mia. That’s not what I mean. Look.” He points at Brian. “Look at him.”
My stomach drops as I fear the worst, thinking it’s too late. I slowly look down at him. But his eyes are open and he isn’t bleeding any more. Like, not bleeding at all. In fact he looks perfectly normal, not one scratch on him. Surely that isn’t possible? But it is. Even the gash on his forehead, that mere moments before had been gushing blood, is now a fully healed, faded pink scar. Brian is staring up at me in awe.
“So it’s true,” he whispers. He sits straight up and looks himself over. He looks back at me again and then, with a laugh, he stands up and disappears.
What the hell?
“Shit!” I hear Grey mumble from behind me.
“Grey, did you see that? He disappeared. He literally just vanished!” I’m freaking out as I look to Grey for some reassurance that I have not completely lost my mind. But he is obviously freaking out as well, pacing back and forth, mumbling under his breath.
I don’t think we are quite freaking out over the same thing.
“One of Dugan’s? Impossible. But how else? How did he know? This is not good.” He continues to pace as he runs his hand through his hair, loo
king incredibly shaken up while he talks to himself.
“I knew there was something off about him. I’m such an idiot! I should’ve known.”
“Grey. Who is Dugan? I don’t understand what is going on here.”
He acts like he can’t hear me or something, “Greyson! Why aren’t you answering me? I’m freaking out over here!”
He stops pacing and stares at me for a quick second before rushing over and grabbing my hand.
“Mia, we have got to get out of here. It isn’t safe. I’ll explain everything, I promise, but right now, I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
I nod weakly. He tightens his grip on my hand and the next thing I know, the world spins, blurring my vision as though we are in a bright mini-tornado of Grey’s own creation. You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach as you drop over the edge of a steep roller coaster ride? Multiply that by about a hundred. The air warms and suddenly we are no longer standing in the snow on the side of the road.
Chapter Six
My eyes blink open to take in our new surroundings, but I’m so dizzy that I think I may fall over, so I sit down on the bed behind me to regain my sense of balance. The bed is plush and upon further inspection of the room, I conclude that Grey has somehow instantly transported us to the fanciest, most elegant hotel room I have ever seen. This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder. One minute I’m outside in the middle of a snowstorm, frantically trying to keep Brian from bleeding to death, and the next minute, not only does his grave wound miraculously heal itself, but Brian himself literally vanishes into thin air. How did he do that? How did Grey and I end up here? What is going on? I can tell that I’m on the verge of losing it, but I’m so weak that I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone try to mentally digest what just happened.
Grey sits in one of the two pale-gold Queen Anne chairs in the room, watching me carefully. He looks as though he wants to say something, but I can tell he is assessing the extent of my rapidly declining mental state before he says anything that will push me further off the deep end.
“What happened?”
“How are you feeling?” he asks cautiously.
“Like I’m going crazy. What the hell happened?” I try to stand up, but I ‘m still really dizzy and my head feels like it’s been split open so I sit back down.
“I will tell you everything, but I need to make sure you are okay first. You’ve been through a lot today.”
No joke. I feel like I have been hit by a truck.
“I’m fine,” I say as normally as I can manage and try to position myself in a more dignified way.
“Are you sure?”
“No, not at all,” I reply as a nervous laugh escapes my lips. “But I want to know what happened. I need to know that I am not crazy. That everything that I think happened today, actually happened and why.”
He pauses for a minute longer, takes a deep breath, and begins.
“Okay, I will tell you everything. What you just witnessed, Brian’s miraculous recovery, you did that. Your touch healed him."
“Come again?”
“You healed him.”
“That’s not possible.”
"Oh, it is. The reason I know this is because...well," He pauses with a nervous sigh. "Did you ever read that book I gave you?”
“The fairy tale history book?”
“Yes.”
“Um...no, I didn’t. I’m sorry. I meant to. I just couldn’t get into it and then you made me mad so I didn’t even want to look at it let alone open it and read it. But what does that old book have to do with what’s going on now?”
“It has everything to do with what is happening now. That wasn’t just a fairy tale book. It was our actual history.”
“Whose history?” I ask him completely confused.
“Ours. The LjÓ sÁ lfar. I am a Light Elf."
Well, I didn’t see that one coming.
“A Light Elf? Don’t be ridiculous. There is no such—” But I don’t finish my sentence because Grey has pushed his hair behind his left ear...his slightly pointy, very elf-like ear. How many hours have I spent staring at this boy in the last few months? How on earth did I miss that? I mean, those. I mean … holy smokes. That’s why he gave me that stupid book!
Greyson St. Clair is a freaking elf. I feel my jaw drop.
“Yes. A Light Elf. I was sent to watch over you by your father, Alberico.”
The fact that Grey knows my father throws me off even more than the pointy ears that he has managed to keep hidden from me for all these months.
“My father? My real father? How do you know him? And what do you mean you were sent here to watch over me? Why? When? How long? My father? Are you sure? My mom said he just left and she never heard from him again. How is this possible?” It is too much. I jolt out of bed and pace the room like a caged animal, trying to make sense of the information overload that has just upended my entire universe.
“Slow down. I promise you, I will tell you everything, but let’s try one question at a time so I can actually give you an answer, shall we?”
“I’m sorry. This is just so overwhelming. And quite frankly, unbelievable, you know? You’re asking me to believe the impossible! This is the sort of thing that would happen in one of my books, not in real-life!"
“Yes, I know it can be a little hard to understand. I’ll try to explain everything the best that I can, but please, try to calm down.”
He waits to see if I’m going to freak out again, and when I don’t, he continues. “Your father is the Light Elf King. We are actually in his castle in Á lfheimr as we speak.”
“Wait a second. I’m in a castle?” I look around at my elegant surroundings. There is a crystal chandelier hanging above the bed and the lush bedding looks and feels expensive. The circular shape of the room leads me to believe that we may be in a tower. I rush to the window, throw back the thick, heavy curtains and gasp in shock at the sight before me. This room is in a tower, and there is a second tower on the opposite side of a massive stone palace. Wow, I really am in a castle. An actual castle. “I thought this was some swanky hotel.”
“No, it is most certainly not ’some swanky hotel’. You are currently standing in one of the many guest rooms inside the finest castle ever built in the beautiful land of Á lfheimr. I thought it would be best to give you a heads up in private before introducing you to your father.”
“Á lfheimr? Not that my geographical knowledge is very extensive or anything, but I have never even heard of it.”
“No, I imagine you have not.” He hesitates as he searches for the right words. “You would be unable to find us on any man-made map, after all.”
“Are we in some sort of parallel universe or something?” I ask him, nervous that he might actually say yes. This is all completely unbelievable.
“That is not too far off from the truth. In actuality, Á lfheimr is located in, well, what you would call Heaven.”
“Like, ‘in the sky above the earth’ Heaven? ‘God and angels’ Heaven?”
“’In the sky above the earth’ Heaven, yes. God and Angels, however, would be a different branch of cosmology altogether.”
“So there are elves but no angels?” I ask skeptically.
“I never said that,” he replies, shaking his head. “But, no, you will not come across any Angels in Á lfheimr.”
“How did we get here?”
“One of the perks of being an elf is the ability to transport at will. I was under strict orders from Alberico to transport you immediately to the kingdom if I thought you were in any sort of danger.”
“Again, how can you be so sure that this Alberico guy even is my father? Like I said, my mom hasn’t seen him since that summer eighteen years ago.” I’m beginning to feel a bit light-headed.
“Well, if you would let me finish speaking, I would tell you," he says with a sigh of amused exasperation.
“Sorry. I’ll be quiet.” I make a show of zipping my mouth close.
“Like I was saying, your father is Alberico, King of the Light Elves. And yes, I am certain he is your father. Alberico and Katherine had a summer romance that ended abruptly.
When he returned to Manhattan a year later and discovered she had a baby girl, he was concerned. Uncertain whether or not he was the father, he sent me to watch over you and wait for some indication that you had elfin blood running through your veins. I have been keeping watch ever since, waiting for some sign. Today, when you healed Brian, Alberico’s belief that you were his daughter was confirmed since healing is most certainly an elfish ability. A rare one, but it is one none the less. I am sure you are already bursting with questions so before I continue, why don’t you get them all out?”
Just as I open my mouth to do exactly that, we are interrupted by a light tapping on the door.
“Come in,” Grey says politely, but I can sense a slight annoyance in his tone. I guess he didn’t want to be interrupted. A dainty little flaxen-haired elf enters the room. She’s about my height, maybe a little shorter and way skinnier. Her long hair is braided behind her, which makes her pointy ears evident. She’s wearing a simple pale gray dress that falls to her ankles.
“Greyson?” she asks meekly.
“Yes?” He gestures for her to speak.
“The king wanted me to let you know that he will be down shortly.”
“Okay. Thank you, Freya. We are ready,” Grey says kindly as he dismisses her. She gives a quick little curtsy then makes a swift exit.
“My father?” I gulp.
“Yes.” Grey looks at me cautiously.
“My father, who is the King of the Light Elves, sent you to watch over me when I was a baby?” Something about that just doesn’t make any sense, and I start feeling a little dizzy as another implausible thought occurs to me.
“Yes.”
“I am guessing you weren’t a baby at the time” The room is definitely spinning. Grey looks like he is a teenager for goodness sake. But if he really has been watching me since I was a baby.....