by Etzoli
Well, it did—frequently, and with gleeful malevolence—but it couldn’t just erase my postings from existence. Nothing could ever truly be deleted, after all.
My mind now a little more at ease, I pulled out my phone and tried to compose myself for the one message I couldn’t send the night before. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Blake, far down the list thanks to his last name. Svartholm was such an awesome last name. I was jealous. Way better than Stokelson .
Hell, even Jen and Matt had better last names than me. Matthew Westin was plain, but with the right person behind it, you could be intimidating as shit. Having watched Matt at work, believe me, he was that right person. I was pretty good in my prime, but even if I were still at my best, I think I could take him to a draw. Not so much now, obviously.
Despite being Matt’s little sister, Jen had a different last name. Silverdale, same as her mother’s. Jennifer Silverdale. Even her name was beautiful. I didn’t know the story behind the discrepancy, but to be fair, I barely knew Jen existed before that night, and I didn’t meet the real Jen until about six years later.
I definitely regretted not getting to know her sooner. Hindsight’s a bitch.
Blake’s name matched his accent, born and bred in Sweden. He was my best friend, all the way back to the day they’d moved to the Silicon Forest when he was ten. We met through an event at a tiny video game shop, when we’d both shown up for the new expansion on the same day. I’d spent years searching for him when we got split up, and now it felt like I was right back to those days again.
His father went to work pretty early in the morning, and his mother was a graveyard shift nurse. Neither would be home in the early hours before school. I pressed call, and my phone started to connect through the wires to reach their home phone.
I imagined it ringing, echoing through their house. I could picture it perfectly—every step in the staircase, every twist and turn of the hallway upstairs. The carpet was dark green, the couches were pale blue. Blake’s cat was likely lounging on the landing halfway up the stairs, soaking in the sunlight. Sometimes I felt like I knew their house better than my own.
Blake never made it to the phone. As the ringer gave up in futility, I heard Adela’s voice through their answering machine.
“Thank you for calling the Svartholm residence. We aren’t in at the moment, so please leave a message and we’ll get back to you soon. Thanks!”
I reminded myself over and over that it meant nothing. Blake could have left already. I should have left for school by now myself. I was going to be late if I didn’t pick up the pace.
I had to leave a message though. I’d be dealing with more follow-up if I just left a blank message and my number in their caller-id log. Better to just deflect it now.
“Hi, it’s Carl. I just needed to ask Blake something, but I guess he already left for school. Don’t mind me.”
I stood and went to pick up my bag. As my hand grasped the strap and tugged, I felt a sharp pain in my arm. I recoiled, staring at it blankly. My face grew hot, as I realized what was happening. It was embarrassing, even if no one had witnessed my mistake.
Of course I couldn’t lift it. I wasn’t strong anymore. My brain hadn’t registered the loss of my muscles yet, the return to my weaker, younger body. I was trying to pick up a bag stuffed with multiple textbooks, my laptop, school supplies, notebooks. I had to put a lot more effort into it than I was used to.
The heat in my face turned into frustrated rage. I didn’t deserve this. I’d fought and bled for my accomplishments, for the power I’d gained. I’d been thrust back into the pathetic life I’d gotten so far away from. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here anymore.
My father was already gone for work. My mother was in the backyard, weeding her garden. She’d left a lunch for me on the kitchen table. She waved at me through the window.I grabbed the brown paper bag and waved back, before turning to head out the door. I only had fifteen minutes to get to school by now, and it was going to be a long jog.
Out the door, down the driveway, and onto the sidewalk. Suburbia was all around me, in all its bland glory. Garbage trucks, billowing black smoke. News choppers with heavy beating blades passing overhead. Hundreds of cars in the distance, filling the rush hour with their incessant moans. Every bit of noise annoyed me just a bit more. The few pleasant sounds, like the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the leaves that hadn’t fallen yet, were drowned out by a man doing woodwork with a table saw in his garage, with the door wide open. I glared at him as I walked by, but he didn’t look up. Blake, always proud of his own woodwork, would have given the man an earful over how much he was wasting.
Blake.
I’d been doing my best to avoid thinking about him. I’d voice my vague hopes to Matt the night before, but I knew I still had to prepare myself mentally for the alternative. I didn’t expect to see him any time soon. He rode the bus from the far side of town every day, and I wouldn’t likely see him until at least second period. Matt should run into him first, in first period. Matt would be able to coordinate him on the plan, and what we’d be doing next.
What was the plan, anyway? I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I’d checked while pulling on my clothes that morning, but I hadn’t gotten a response yet. Tonight I’d be able to do more digging, but the internet seemed to have failed me so far. The library would be my next stop. Something, somewhere would have the answer for what had happened—and more importantly, how we could reverse it.
The walk to school was going more quickly than I expected, or wanted. Every turn and every street was still burned into my brain from the last few years I’d spent going to this stupid place.
As the school came into view, it became a symbol of everything I’d most hated about this world. My eyes scanned across the entire campus, taking in the sight once more. I thought I’d been rid of it forever. It had only been a nightmare, and even then it had faded completely over the years. To be confronted once more by the hell I’d escaped was almost overwhelming. If it wasn’t for Blake, Jen and Matt, waiting inside, I wouldn’t have taken another step.
“Hey, Carl!”
I stiffened, but the voice wasn’t an unfriendly one. It was Kyle, someone I used to consider a friend. Someone I’d forgotten, and definitely not the first reunion I was expecting today. I turned to greet him, and was handed a large thick book. A Dungeons and Dragons manual.
“Sorry it took so long to get this back,” said Kyle, panting. He’d apparently been sprinting to catch up with me. “Thanks. Having a hard copy was great for our session.”
“Sure.” I took off my backpack and slid it inside. It barely fit, but compared to some of the magic tomes I’d perused over the last seven years, it was practically a featherweight. Of course, with the arm strength I had now, it brought the weight on my shoulder to a threatening load. I’d have to ditch some of them when I got to my locker. I closed it up and kept walking.
Dungeons and Dragons . It seemed so… trite now. No amount of imagination and roleplaying could possibly conjure up how terrifying a dragon was in reality. The searing heat of their breath, or the concussive bursts of wind with every wing flap. Awesome, in the most traditional sense of the word.
As for dungeons, I’d been in a few, and been the owner of a few more. They tended not to have any treasure, just the other notable T-words: torture, terror, and tyranny. Really not fun places to be. I avoided them whenever possible.
“You okay, man?” he asked, falling in line beside me and jolting me out of my memories.
“What?”
“Nothin’. You’re just usually way more talkative.”
I didn’t respond for a moment. Was I? I’d tried to build up such a completely different image in Cyraveil. I had to struggle to remember who I was. Talking was something I usually let advisors and servants take care of. Matt’s reminder crept back into my mind. We didn’t know if we were safe yet. I had to maintain some level of normality. “How was the session?”<
br />
“Load of crap. They got bogged down in arguments over rules during a single fight. Took us hours just to get through it. But having the book on hand helped. It was way easier to flip between actual pages than scroll around on an ebook.”
“Why not just open the ebook in multiple windows?”
“Because the software’s a piece of shit and wouldn’t let me?”
“You can override that, you know.
“You can?”
“ Selnou .”
Kyle stared at me. “Huh?”
Crap. Wrong language. I was used to talking with Jen, and all the shorthand Etoline I’d picked up off of her. “It’s easy. I’ll show you how sometime.”
“Cool.” Kyle glanced around, looking at the other gaggles of students heading in. The buses were pulling away already, and most of those kids were already inside. “Hey, you seen Blake anywhere?”
My throat tightened up. It took me a few seconds to pull it back together. “You know he rides the bus, right?”
“He does?”
“Yeah. He lives way out over on the other side of Mellbridge. Just off the exit ramp.”
“Oh. Huh. I just assumed he lived near here. I always seem him walking this way.”
I shook my head. “He comes over to my place a lot.”
“Ah.”
We continued walking in silence for a bit. Kyle kept glancing around in random directions, like he was uncomfortable around me. It bothered me more than a little. We’d been friends for years, hadn’t we?
But I’d changed. I wasn’t me anymore. I’d gotten rid of that pathetic kid a long time ago. I replaced him with someone stronger.
He reminded me of what I really needed to be doing. Who knew where my next clue might come from? No matter how unlikely, I had to pursue every possible avenue that came up.
“Hey Kyle…” I started casually. “You know Cyraveil Park?”
“Yeah? What about it?” He didn’t sound suspicious, but I could tell instantly. I’d interrogated a thousand people. I’d negotiated with the best diplomats and nobles in the country. It was all in his body language. The way his head subtly turned, how his eyes sped up just so. His posture slipped just a little, got defense. He had something to hide, and he was terrible at it.
“You ever go down there at night?” I asked benignly.
“Uhh, why?”
“Just curious.”
Kyle swallowed audibly. He glanced around again. “Yeah, sometimes.”
Bingo. I was circling my opponent now, preparing to strike. Kyle was a pushover. He’d talk in seconds. I lowered my voice just slightly. Imperious. That was the tone, that’s what Reynir called it. “Spill it, Kyle.”
“…You won’t tell anyone, right?”
“‘Course not.” What good would that do?
Embarrassment flared up in his face. “Me and Kersey sneak out there to… umm…”
Disappointment crashed into me like a mace. I’d hoped for something more than that . Now I just had a stuttering lovestruck kid, with nothing useful to tell me.
“Ah.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Nice. She’s pretty cute. Good for you.”
I’d meant it genuinely, but I guess it came out condescending. Kyle became prickly. “Like you’ve done any better.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I answered wistfully, remembering the woman in question.
Kyle rolled his eyes. “ Three-dimensional females, dude.”
“More 3D than you. Hair like a glowing hearth and more curves than a roller coaster.” Also a killer with a spear, and overwhelmingly racist, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“What was this imaginary beauty’s name?”
“Aud Onundottir.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fantasizing about viking women?”
I laughed. To be honest, I had no idea how the Cellmans ended up with so many Nordic-style names. It wasn’t like they spoke anything besides English there (or as they referred to it, Linguen). One piece of their history I still wanted to uncover, probably buried in the pile of scrolls waiting under my estate. “Nah, I’m over her.”
“Too odd for you?” Kyle grinned.
I sighed. “That pun got old years ago.”
“Nice to see you’re so loyal to your fantasy woman you stuck by her for years .”
“Hey, when I commit, I commit.” It was true, even if it did come back to bite me in the ass. Aud ended up leaving me, not the other way around. I was just grateful she hadn’t decided to put her spear through my spine before she’d taken off. “But we got off topic. Kersey, eh?”
Kyle’s expression twisted back into embarrassment fast. “Yeah.”
I couldn’t really remember the girl besides just her looks, but that wasn’t any reason I couldn’t be supportive. Kyle could use the boost. “She seems great for you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, I guess?”
“You guys had sex yet?”
I didn’t think his face could get more red, but he proved me wrong. “…The hell, Carl?”
“What?”
Kyle shook his head. “Nevermind.” He looked up as the five minute bell rang. “Shit. I needed to get to class early today. See ya.” He sped off and passed through the front doors in a hurry, leaving me alone again.
Oh, right. I was part of the collective of nervous virgins again. I wasn’t supposed to be this confident or self-assured. To Kyle, I must have sounded like a completely different person at the end there.
Still, it went better than I’d expected. Maybe I could pick up right where I left off, without anybody noticing. At least until we figured out how to get back. I reached into the bag slung over my shoulder, thumbing through books and papers. I’d left everything in there the night before, ready for the next day. I was eternally grateful to my past self for the foresight, as I wouldn’t have had a clue what to bring today. Between that and my (admittedly vague) recollections on what classes I was taking seven years ago, I was reasonably confident I could bullshit my way through at least a few days of classes. Just long enough for us to leave, I hoped.
I walked through the front door, and realized that was a ridiculous notion. Where the two wings of the school met, classrooms lined both sides, with only a room number to provide me any information. Every single one of them looked exactly the same to me.
I had absolutely no idea where my first class was.
Chapter 3 — Jen
“Long day, West?”
“This shit was awful. Give me good news, Portman. What’s the verdict?”
“We’ll be taking the Svartholm case.”
“…Goddamnit. Do we have anything to go on, at least?”
“Not yet. The first twenty-four hours are the most important in an abduction though. We should get going.”
“You think it was a kidnapping?”
“We can’t rule out anything yet.”
Thank every single star in the sky and the realms beyond for texting. No, seriously, text messages on cell phones are the bomb. Might seem obvious to you , but being able to talk silently and quickly, and without all that mess of face-to-face expressions and emotions? That can be really wonderful sometimes. More to the point, it’s all recorded.
I spent the entire morning combing back through old text messages one-handed, while I chowed through a few pieces of toast. Sure, I still remembered (most of) my friends. I was never like Matt, I actually liked talking to people around me. But it was good to center my memory on where everything was at right now. Kersey was going through her “I hate all men” phase, Jane was going out with Steve, who Kari had a crush on (not that I’d ever tell him). Mitch’s band was breaking up over some stupid fight. My best friend Sara had been texting me all night and even now about some guy she met, and Aivallei Syldarei was getting married to—
Wait. That one didn’t fit. Aivallei didn’t go to my high school. For one, she was something like eighty years too old. Even if she still looked gorgeous. She insisted I was prettier, but we all kne
w that was an outright lie. I couldn’t possibly measure up to a Sylf princess. I couldn’t even measure up to half the girls in my grade. Pity she had to marry such a slob. But hey, nobody ever said political marriages were easy.
But that wasn’t my business anymore.
“Hey, Jen,” my brother’s voice echoed from the front hallway.
“ Dov? ”
“I’m heading out early. Can you wake Mom up?” I could hear him slipping on his shoes, squeaking against the wooden floor by the door.
“Okay. What’s up?”
“Told someone I’d meet up with them before school today.”
“Oooh, got a girlfriend?” I teased, still scrolling through my old texts.
“None of your business.”
“Aww,” I pouted. I got up and leaned around the corner to give him a look. “Won’t you tell me, duralav-hila? ”
“Nope.”
“You know that means you do , right? You’re just making it obvious,” I snickered.
“If you say so. And Jen?”
“What?”
Matt stood up straight, bundled up in his favorite jacket and with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He reached forward and pulled me into a hug. I stiffened, discomfort quickly rising. I pushed it away, even as the nausea clawed up through my chest, urging me to free myself from his arms. I consciously reminded myself he was just trying to be comforting and kind—that he was my brother, that he would never hurt me, that he was on my side—but the feelings remained. Not that I could ever tell him.
I leaned into his hug, putting my arms awkwardly around him in return. After a few seconds, he let go, and my anxiety slowly ebbed away.
“You know I never stopped looking for you, right?”
“ Selnou, ” I whispered.
He smiled, but it was in a sad, lonely way. It echoed my own feelings so exactly, I almost burst into tears on the spot. I’d gotten pretty good at hiding my emotions though, a vital tool of my profession. Emotions weren’t coming anywhere near my face. For now.