Epilogue

by Etzoli

  “Sounds intense.”

  “Do we knock?”

  “No, keep listening.”

  “They’ve stopped talking. If we don’t go now, they’ll rabbit.”

  “Damnit. Okay, let’s do this.”

  It felt as skin-bitingly cold as winter in the forest all week. Not saying it was actually cold out; in fact, the weather was really nice for this time of year. But when you’ve just spent the last couple months in the middle of summer and you suddenly drop right into autumn, even in pretty much the same climate, your body takes a while to adjust. It’s like how two days that are just as hot can feel way different just ‘cause of what season they’re in.

  All of this is to say that I was shivering constantly over the last couple days, but I didn’t want to give it away. I wore light clothes like everybody else—although Sara had pointed out I’d been wearing way darker stuff that tended to blend in more. I didn’t want to look like a freak though, wearing some heavy jacket everywhere. I dealt with the chills and the sniffles at school instead.

  So when I tell you that even with all that, I still felt the room get colder in an instant, you’ll understand that I mean it was like the Arctic in there.

  It didn’t take me long to figure out why. As I glanced away from Matt and Carl, both still on edge, I saw the outline of a hand, just through the curtains around the windows by our front door. My instincts were right on the money.

  I got the guys to shut up. We stared at the door for what felt like hours, but only a second later, the first knock came. A sharp tap of a fist on our door.

  Matt immediately took charge. “Jen, hide,” he hissed. I didn’t have to be told twice. In my hunting outfit, with the quiver of arrows on my back and bow over my shoulder, I was seriously out of place. I snagged the arrow out of the banister as I hurried upstairs, ripping out a small chunk in the process.

  Matt raised an eyebrow. I shrugged, retreating into the shadows of the upstairs landing. The staircase looked so beat up anyway, it didn’t really stand out much.

  Okay, it did; there was a big difference between the scratches and scuffs versus the sudden gaping hole I’d just torn out, but what the hell did he expect? I couldn’t just leave it there.

  For a brief moment of bizarre jealousy, I wondered why Matt had sent me away, but not Carl. It didn’t take long to reason it out though. Whoever was on the other side of that door had probably heard people arguing—two guys in particular. If Matt answered it alone, he’d just look more suspicious. I could disappear, since I hadn’t been shouting my head off like an idiot, but we needed to seem like we had nothing to hide.

  No way in hell I wasn’t gonna listen in though. I laid down just beyond the corner at the top of the staircase, pressed into the carpet with my ears as close as I could get to the corner of the wall without showing myself.

  I heard the door click open.

  “Hello officers,” Matt’s voice rang out, quite calm. The staircase groaned slightly as someone leaned against the bannister. I assumed it was Carl. He was still breathing pretty heavily, though he was trying to suppress it.

  “Matthew Westin?” A typical cop voice, all direct and professional. I decided the guy must have glasses, with a full proper uniform, all perfectly even and pressed. Probably pretty handsome, too.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Detectives, actually,” said a second voice. Rougher. He’d the off-the-rails guy, the plays-by-his-own-rules cop. Shabby clothes, a devil-may-care attitude. Meanwhile, I had to revise my mental picture of the first guy into a plainclothes investigator. Well-dressed still, but in a business suit instead of a uniform.

  Shit, did we just stumble into some kind of buddy cop show? Man, why do I remember TV so well but nothing else?

  I could have laughed, if I wasn’t so terrified. Instinctively, my hand slid down to the knife near the small of my back. Not that I was about to attack cops , but there was no way I was getting taken somewhere against my will.

  Never again.

  I tried to focus back on the conversation. My mind kept flying off on too many tangents. They still seemed to be on introductions though, so I hadn’t missed much.

  “…and we’re here looking into a missing persons case.”

  “Missing persons?” said Matt, still the perfect tone of control. I knew he wouldn’t slip up in front of the police, no matter what they might try. I was much more worried about Carl, who still hadn’t gotten his breathing under control. He couldn’t still be tired from the fight, could he? It was like two punches. He wasn’t that out of shape. It had to be nerves.

  Carl was scared.

  “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” asked Professional-guy. It was all so calm and polite. The only thing out of place was Carl’s ragged-breaths.

  “Of course. Please, come in.”

  Carl’s breath sharpened again. He was not ready for this kind of stress, I could tell. Matt, this is a mistake. I know you’re doing the right thing for you, but Carl cannot handle this right now.

  They crossed into the sitting area next to the front door. I could just make out Matt’s face in the corner, as he took a seat. The two detectives followed, flitting through the gap, and Carl just stayed on the stairs, watching from the third step up.

  “When was the last time you saw Blake Svartholm?” asked Rough-guy. Straight to the point, as expected. He was doing off-the-book perfectly by the book. Even pronounced ‘Svartholm’ wrong.

  “Blake’s… missing?” Oh thank the stars. Matt, you’re good. No hesitation at all.

  “When did you see him last?” prompted Professional-guy again.

  “Uhh, night before last.” No, that’s wrong. Matt, don’t lie to them. You don’t know what they know yet.

  “Wednesday the second?”

  “No, sorry. I meant Tuesday night.” Or you knew what to do all along. Okay, gonna stop doubting you now.

  “So Tuesday the first.” I heard a scratching sound. Probably Professional-guy taking notes on a yellow legal pad, because it always had to be yellow.

  “Were you aware nobody’s seen him since that night?” Rough-guy said.

  “No, I wasn’t. I mean, I was surprised I didn’t see him at school, but I thought he might be sick or something.”

  “What were you two doing that night?”

  “Just hanging out. Nothing special.”

  Carl was fidgeting on the stairs. These guys were too good not to notice. “You wouldn’t happen to be Carl Stokelson, would you?”

  He nodded nervously. I was astonished. To see somebody like Carl—with what he’d accomplished, the power he’d once held—so thoroughly unsettled by a couple of real-world cops was… pathetic. I felt sorry for him.

  “Blake was your best friend, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you were there that night as well?”

  “Yeah, I was.” Carl sounded really subdued. Maybe he had a thing about cops? I couldn’t remember, as much as I tried to. I still couldn’t wrap my head around his defeated posture.

  “Where did you go that night?”

  “Here. And uhh… out for a bit.”

  “We drove around for a while, went to a few places,” added Matt. He was trying to deflect them off Carl.

  “Anywhere in particular?” asked Professional-guy.

  “Not really.”

  “Not Cyraveil Park?”

  Shit. Shit shit shit. We’d been caught in a lie. Well, kind of. It was enough of one to make them suspicious.

  I set my bow aside in the nearest room, along with the quiver. My days of watching way too much TV with Sara were about to pay off big time.

  “We might have,” said Matt noncommittally, but I could hear his voice falter just a tad. I doubted the cops would recognize it, but I wasn’t going to let this get any further. I was already moving.

  “Hey, Matt, what’s going on?” I called, hurrying down the stairs.

  “Jen?” He twisted around in surprise. Carl,
too, glanced up in confusion.

  “You guys cops?” I asked, in what I hoped was a cheerful, upbeat voice. I tried my best to suppress any hint of my accent. Just a normal Oregon girl, that’s me. Unsurprisingly, I had their appearances down perfect. Disappointing, but what can you do? More interesting to me, though, was that Professional-guy looked barely older than I was. I didn’t know detectives came that young.

  Barely older than actual- me, obviously. Not current-me. But still, I’d call him mid-twenties, easy.

  Professional-guy spoke up. “Yes. Detectives Portman and West.”

  “Neat. Mind if I hang around?” I plopped myself into the chair next to Matt. Professional-guy looked taken aback. Wondering if you’re allowed to question us with a minor present, right? For once, I was actually grateful to get de-aged seven years.

  It wasn’t the most elaborate move, and definitely just a temporary solution, but it was enough to save off the pressure, give Carl some breathing room. So I hoped.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to speak to your brother alone, please.” Professional-guy was polite as could be, but I wasn’t gonna let it slide.

  “Nah, I kinda do mind. Is he under arrest?” Estek, Mr. Detective. Your move. Will you bluff, or do I take the round?

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t compel him to answer anything right now. And I was promised a good lunch, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like my brother to get back in the kitchen.” I was deliberately playing up the bratty little sister angle. Anything to get them out of our house, right away. Matt had stumbled hard, and I didn’t want to consider what could happen if they started questioning Carl directly.

  Obviously doubting his legal standing in the room, Professional-guy stood up. Rough-guy seemed surprised, but followed his partner’s lead. In typical detective fashion though, Rough-guy pulled out a business card from his jacket and handed it over to Matt.

  “You think of anything, you call.”

  “Of course,” Matt replied, pocketing it. I felt immensely reassured by the aura of calm that had returned to his voice. The cops were out the door in moments, and I watched carefully all the way back to their car and then down the block and away. Only once they were gone did I turn back to face my brother.

  “That was sloppy,” said Matt.

  “ Masal daphut ,” I snapped. “Why did you lie?”

  “I—” Matt started.

  “We’re screwed,” said Carl. We both looked at him, confused.

  “I think that’s a little preemptive,” said Matt.

  “They already came to my place once. My dad told me.”

  “So they know you and Blake are friends. It’s not exactly news,” Matt reasoned.

  “Yeah, but the bit about Cyraveil. They probably got that off a chat between me and Blake. Off Blake’s computer. They’ll know I was involved somehow.”

  Matt sighed. “It’s not the end of the world yet, Carl. We’ll figure something out.”

  Carl’s eyes narrowed. “Figure something out,” he sneered. “Like you always do.”

  “Yes, Carl,” said Matt. His voice was much sharper now. “Like I always do. You guys put me in charge, now you’re going to listen.” I had been about to speak up in Matt’s defense, but his tone reminded me that he didn’t need it. I’d forgotten just what he could sound like.

  It wasn’t really a good memory.

  “They know we went to the forest,” Matt went on, with both of us totally silent. “We can’t deny that. We’ll just have to stick to our story. After we came home, after midnight, we dropped Blake off. That was the last time we saw him. Jen, you were never there. You don’t know a thing.”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t sure how well it’d hold up. It was better than nothing …

  “That’s it? We just keep up that lie, forever?” asked Carl.

  “There’s literally no evidence,” said Matt. “They can never prove anything.”

  “What about Blake’s parents? Our friends? Are they just supposed to believe he disappeared forever?”

  “Well, he did.”

  “Fuck you, Matt,” Carl snapped. “Blake deserves better.

  “And what are you thinking?”

  “I… don’t know. Yet.” Carl’s voice fell. He hesitated. “I don’t know if we can do this. Live here.”

  “We don’t have any other option,” said Matt. I could tell he was trying to be comforting, but it really didn’t work, and Carl wasn’t taking it. Matt wasn’t the right person to help him. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, but I couldn’t think of anything better to say. So I stayed silent.

  Which meant, of course, that Carl’s face swivelled right over to face me. He looked me straight in the eye. So much for staying out of the conversation.

  “What do you think?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to get my nerves in order. “I think Matt’s right.”

  Carl looked crestfallen. Had he expected me to agree with him? Over Matt?

  “Carl, I need to know you can do this,” said Matt. “They’ll be asking you questions, without us around. Can you handle it?”

  He didn’t answer, not right away. I could see him processing, calculating. He was a planner, just like Matt. Carl was definitely the smartest of us, the most well-read, the most cunning, and absolutely the most successful of us in Cyraveil. But he lacked Matt’s self-control, his ability to shut out emotion when he needed to. Matt was an iceberg, stable and floating along, hiding so much more under the surface. Carl was an open flame, bright and powerful, but ready to burn down the whole world if he got pushed too far in the wrong direction.

  Worst of all, I wasn’t actually sure which of them I really agreed with. My own mind was so mixed up, I just defaulted to supporting my brother. Trusting he had a real plan in mind. Knowing he’d take care of me.

  “Jen, can I talk to you?” asked Carl quietly.

  I raised an eyebrow. What was he expecting to get out of a private conversation?

  “Go ahead and talk,” said Matt sternly.

  “Alone, dickhead,” Carl retorted.

  “I’m staying right here,” said Matt.

  He was trying to protect me. I got that. Normally, I appreciated it, but right now it was all wrong. This was Carl, not the cops or Reynir’s armies or the Vennenport Deathblades. Even if he did mean me harm, I could take out this weaker version of Carl any day of the weak. No sweat.

  “Then I guess we’re going somewhere else,” I cut in. Carl glanced over, surprised, but not nearly as much as Matt. “I’ll be fine. Go make us a snack, okay?” After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

  Good. He still trusts me. At least something’s still right here.

  Matt retreated into the kitchen, while Carl and I stepped out into the backyard. Almost immediately, Carl started pacing. Clearly, he was still way too amped up by the cops to stay calm. I walked out onto the lawn, letting my bare feet enjoy the grass. I sat down cross-legged, staring up at the clouds swirling across the sky. They looked like gigantic structures, miles and miles wide. I wondered if I could reach them someday, if I somehow got access to etola again. Maybe some way to use the wind, reduce my weight and let me be carried upward into the sky. I could see myself really enjoying that.

  I could also see myself plummeting a couple miles to my untimely death, but hey—nobody ever did anything really cool by playing it totally safe, right?

  Not that it mattered. I’d never get that opportunity, unless I decided to take up skydiving. Magic was a thing of the past, forever. I was gonna die young, waste away like a human at eighty-something. I was never gonna get to fly like a bird or swim like a fish or tree-shape or mind-meld or any of the other hundreds of things I hadn’t done yet. It was gone.

  “We don’t belong here,” said Carl finally.

  I sighed, twiddling my toes in the grass. “What are we supposed to do about that?”

  “I don’t know yet. But I’m trying to find out.”

  “You’re what now?” I
was cautiously interested. That’s not to say I was eager to find a way back. Despite everything I just listed off, there were a hell of a lot of reasons to be happy back here too. The jury was still out. I just liked having options. Anything to feel less confined in the world.

  “I’ve been sending out messages. Trying to find anyone who might have gone through something similar. If it happened to us, why couldn’t it happen to anyone else?”

  I shook my head. “It’s magic, Carl. It doesn’t have to be logical.”

  “I can’t believe that. The universe works on rules. We just stumbled on a new rule no one’s documented yet.”

  “So you think you’re gonna figure it out?”

  “I’d rather somebody else already did, and is just keeping it secret for the same paranoid reasons we are,” Carl muttered. I started to speak up, but he kept going. “No, I think you guys are right, and I’m not going to go public or anything. Our lives would get way, way worse. But a few anonymous posts on the internet aren’t going to set off any alarms.”

  Made some sense to me, I guess. Matt wouldn’t like it though. “Any luck yet?”

  Carl shrugged. “Mostly a lot of trolls, or just pure fantasy. But I did get one possible hit. A guy claiming he knows something, and clearly just as scared as we are. I’ve been talking to him.”

  I felt a thrill roll through me, coupled with a healthy burst of defensive skepticism. “How can you be sure you can trust him?”

  “I can’t. Of course not. It’s the internet. But he seems legit from the couple PMs we’ve traded so far.”

  “PMs?” I asked, with a twinge of embarrassment.

  “Sorry. Private messages. No one else will see them.”

  “Okay,” I said neutrally. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I trusted Carl could stay discreet. Especially with anything concerning the Web.

  “If—” Carl started, but he cut himself off abruptly. I glanced over at him, curious. His face was unreadable, a mix of apprehension and hope.

  “If what?” I prompted.

  “Would you come back with me? If I found a way?”

  I didn’t answer right away, because I didn’t really have an answer, and that seemed to open a floodgate.

  “There’s nothing left for me. I don’t fit into my family, school is worthless, and I can’t see myself just going through the usual hoops. Going to college, getting a job, whatever. After what I’ve done? It would be such a step backwards. Nothing I could ever achieve in this world would amount to a fraction of what I accomplished in Cyraveil.” Carl’s face twisted into a bitter smile. “I still have so much unfinished business over there. It wouldn’t be right for me to leave it, you know? And I know you still have people here. You’ve got friends and family, But do you really belong here? Can you really be happy here?”