by Joey Anderle
She looked up for a brief moment, made eye contact, and shrugged before returning to the screen.
“Alright, well, I’m going to duck into my room to change clothes before the pizza arrives,” Sterling excused himself and walked away leaving his guest tapping away on his phone.
Auralee found herself adventuring to his room at the sound of Booker screaming, “Oh, good God!”
“What?” Auralee prodded as she walked down the hall, “Is this the noise you make when you’re being beat?”
She turned into the bathroom to see him bent over his sink looking intently into his reflection, “Whats wrong?” Aura asked seeing no immediate danger.
“How am I supposed to go outside when I look like I’ve been in a fight?” Booker questioned aloud.
“But you were in a fight.” Auralee frowned.
“That’s beside the point,” Booker rubbed at his neck, “It’s going to be weeks of everyone and their moms asking ‘what happened?' What am I going to tell them, the truth?”
He sighed heavily.
“Just heal yourself.” Aura suggested as though he should not need to be told such a simple thing.
“Uh yeah. No, let me just get right on that, I’ll ask my buddy Wolverine and - no, wait. You’re serious?” Booker turned to look at Auralee.
“You can’t use magic?” Auralee took occasional glances up from his phone while talking.
“No, I can’t, what made you think that?” Booker looked back at Auralee, intrigued.
Aura continued her effort to fly the bird as she explained, “Not all elves can either, but I figured if you were so good that perhaps you had gotten a boost.”
“Nah, my skills are all natural,” Booker was disappointed there were no witnesses to his following wink, but he knew it was the spirit that counted.
“Mmmm,” She nodded slowly before her arms jerked while tapping. “Dravit!” She swore.
“What are you doing?” Sterling looked over to see she was playing a game on his phone, “Flappy Bird, really? Access to all human endeavors and you find Flappy Bird first?” He commented.
“Do you not want my help?” Aura questioned.
“Angry Birds is the next app over,” Booker offered.
“Thought so.” Aura lost again and set the phone down for a second. She flinched when she saw Sterling in the better light, “This might hurt.” She warned, then she closed her eyes, remembering the healing prayer.
“Ah, ah, that tickles,” Booker gave a play-by-play. “The cuts are closing, but I don’t feel a-, AH FUCK!” He cried out in pain as he felt a rib he didn’t know was cracked, snap back together, “Might?” He exclaimed, breathing heavily as all the other wounds and bruises cleared up. “Sweet little Joseppi,” He swore in pain.
“Your eyes aren’t very efficient, but I’m not good enough at this kind of spell weaving to attempt any fixes.” Auralee informed, “That’s most everything, who’s Joseppi?”
“Long story,” he answered, taking a look into the mirror and admired himself and her handiwork, “How did you do that?” His hands were slapping his chin.
“I told you, magic. A resource used for most any spell, this place is brimming with it, probably because your race never bothered to use it.” She said plainly and picked back up his phone “Watch yourself for a couple of days, elves and humans are similar but not quite the same.”
“Thank you,” Sterling deemed the healing more than enough to look acceptable. “Now shoo, I have to escape into my closet before the pizza guy gets here, which means I have ten minutes, hrm.” He began to debate heavily over all of his options as she went back to the living room, and he went to his closet.
When Sterling emerged from the master bedroom at the sound of his doorbell, now dressed in dark red joggers, a black tank top and a similarly shaded thin green jacket. He looked into his living room as he walked past to find the Princess upside down on his couch furiously dancing her fingers across his phone.
“Well, there goes my battery life.” He accepted sadly. He heard a knock and turned to his door, opening it to hand the pizza guy the money and accept the boxes of wonder from him.
“So, a deadly assassin just came through here.” Sterling set the pizza and dessert on the counter, “taken care of by yours truly, and right now you’re more focused on a digital bird?”
“Don’t get too proud,” Auralee responded.
“What, why?” Booker scoffed, “I told you I can hold my own.”
“Against what was probably a novice.” Auralee pointed out.
“No way, I didn’t hear him coming, and I think my senses are pretty good. Plus, I can’t diss on him for losing to me if he wasn’t very good.” Booker reached for a couple of plates, tossing one on the counter and opened the pizza box. He reached in and grabbed a slice of Italian heaven and placed it on his plate.
“Let us see,” Aura flipped around, and her head looked over the couch. “He left the window open, rookie mistake, and consider where he hid - he left that door open as well. He came through your front door. I don’t think he knew the definition of ‘stealth,' and on top of that, the pair of you made enough noise to wake the dead and a mess in here to match. You’re lucky they didn’t send anyone else.”
She got up while explaining and replicated what Booker did, inspecting her fingers after setting the food on her plate, sitting on the barstool as Booker ate on the opposite side of the counter.
Booker stood frozen as he processed that, his chin up as he dangled the pizza above his face like a sword swallower. He lowered the gooey goodness back to his plate, “Alright so what, still won.” And resumed his consumption of dinner after a shrug, biting into his slice.
Auralee sighed and inspected her food, “Doesn’t look healthy.”
Booker responded with heavy exhales.
“What is wrong with you now?”
“Hawt,” Booker answered, waving his hand in front of his mouth.
He turned to his fridge, pulling it open and getting out a plastic pitcher full of dark liquid, quickly closing the fridge and retrieved a cup to pour the pitcher’s contents to taking a drink.
Booker cleared his throat, “Good stuff.” He decreed and then poured another cup half full and offered it to her, “Tea?”
“Please,” She accepted the cup Booker handed her and took a sip, pulling back to stare at it. “Gah, what is this?”
“Tea?” Booker sounded unsure even though he’s the one that made it the previous da.
“It’s liquid sweetness.” Auralee critiqued.
“Southern Tea,” He corrected.
“How do you drink this?” She asked
“Normally, with ice,” he answered.
She peered back but decided not to feed the smug grin anymore, choosing to try the pizza.
“So who would send ‘novice’ assassins after you?” Booker snagged the second slice after finishing his first piece so quickly.
Aura shrugged, “Depends, if he was here to kidnap or kill. If it is the former, probably someone with strong political ties, thinking to use me as a bargaining chip. While I am possibly the least important member of my family, I am still my father’s daughter.”
Sterling tilted his head to the side, “And if it's the latter?” Taking a slow drink of his tea.
Her light blue eyes rolled upward attempting to recall, “What is your word for it, ‘dick heads’?”
Booker lurched forward trying not to spit out his drink, “That’s, certainly one way of putting it, yes.” He answered with a chuckle, “Should I be expecting more and if so, can you fight some of them?”
Her mood changed when he suggested that she fight, “Would you like to find out, again?”
“Not really,” Booker admitted and spoke quickly to change the topic, “Should I start packing heat, do assassin’s pack heat?”
“Heat? Like fire magic?” She questioned with another bite.
“No, like guns, fire magic? Why do you guys get to be so kick ass?”
Booker lamented.
“I’m sure to your disappointment, fire magic is banned. It has been for a few hundred years now,” Auralee informed.
“Like that would stop someone,” Booker prodded.
“Believe it or not, my society respects its authority and laws.” She shot back.
“Cheap shot,” He answered, “But that society just sent an assassin and or kidnapper for a princess.” He shook his head, “I don’t think there's a clause in your laws that permits that.”
Auralee chose not to respond and instead returned to her meal.
“So are all elves under one monarch or…” Sterling left the end for Auralee to complete.
“There are three kingdoms in this world, which includes the other races too.” She answered.
“Other races? Where is your land, and why can’t I find you on Google maps?” Sterling began to try and figure out the puzzle before she could answer.
“It is because-“
“Is it because you live underground?” Booker jumped to the conclusion.
“No, interrupt me again, and I’ll lie to Alphonse and say you broke his car.” She enunciated to make it clear before continuing, “Now, it's because your world is two worlds.”
“I like my theory better.” Booker answered, “Because two worlds makes no sense, what-so-ever.”
“More sense than living underground?” She shook her head, “As far as my teacher can figure, there was some point in our past that caused a break.”
“Who’s your teacher,” Booker questioned.
“Are you nothing but questions? Besides you wouldn’t know him.” She became slightly frustrated.
Booker shrugged with a grin, “Sorry?”
“As far as what I can observe, your race didn’t tap into magic and instead chose, well, whatever direction you chose.”
“So you're saying it’s still there, so I can be the first?” Booker smiled in anticipation.
“Yes, it’s still there, lots of it surprisingly. What makes you think you’ll be the special one?” She inquired.
Booker locked in his answer, “Sheer determination of will.”
She gazed at him deeply. “Uh huh, here’s the thing about that, an elf typically doesn’t start researching their arts until they start maturing, let alone actually utilizing magic.”
“And how old is that?” Booker questioned, ready to do the numbers.
“Around a hundred and forty years.” Auralee guesstimated.
“And how long do you live?” he followed up with.
“About five or six hundred years.” Auralee’s eyes narrowed at his line of questioning.
“Let's take those numbers and average them, that means you start about a fifth of the way into your life, if I’m nineteen and humans on average live to be seventy-three, then I’m a touch less than a fifth.” He clapped his hands together while sporting a wicked grin. “In other words, in the prime time of my life to start learning magic.”
Auralee sighed, “Even if I remotely wanted to teach you, I’m only going to be here for the next couple of days, and we are supposed to keep a low profile. Chances are you’ll blow the pair of us up on your first attempt at kinetic magic’s.”
“Alright, but, maybe if I can get Alphonse in on this,” Booker began to scheme ahead of any problems heading in his direction.
“Because that's what Alphonse wants, a magic-infused Booker,” She agreed sarcastically.
“Why wouldn’t he, we could take over the world, and look awesome doing it.” Booker proceeded to imagine himself shooting magic, even making ‘pew pew’ noises as he went along doing it.
“Good luck.” She granted, getting up and started to leave.
“Hold on, there’s still this cookie,” Booker called back, raising the dessert box in question.
“Yes, but I’m afraid that will give you more time for questioning and, getting here was tiresome enough. Plus, tomorrow we are going to have a busy day figuring out who sent that assassin. It would help solve things on my side.” She answered.
“Wait up, no we are not. My job is to keep you alive, which is a little hard to do if we are actively trying to hunt down trained fighters,” Booker started around the corner to catch up to the female elf.
“Yes, we are,” Auralee reinforced as she stepped out the door, closing it before he could respond.
Booker took a bite into the dessert that he didn’t have to share, anymore. Standing in the hall, he questioned aloud to an empty apartment, “Wait, how did she get here?”
CHAPTER SIX
When Sterling cracked open his eyes in the morning, he found it suspicious not to hear his phone blaring at him to wake up, a tired arm swinging and landing on the nightstand as he searched for his glasses.
“Ichabod,” He grumbled out for his spectacles, “Wherefore art thou, Ichabod?”
Leaning up and bringing his retrieved glasses back, he could finally look at the world in clarity. His phone didn’t ring at him because it wasn’t there, charging like it should be.
“That’s ok,” He rationalized, “It’s probably on the table where I left it.”
Although his rationalization was more to calm him than to explain why it wasn’t next to him. Sterling submerged into his closet, making quick, decisive efforts in his clothing. Stepping back out with converse high tops in hand, wearing faded black jeans and a warm, almost bland, slim gray hoodie.
Sterling walked out of his room and set the shoes by his door making his way to the living area to find Auralee lying lengthwise on his couch with the missing iPhone in hand. She was dressed in what appeared to be an urban twist of elfin style with black leggings and a tunic looking black jacket, and tan belt.
“Why am I not surprised,” Booker questioned aloud.
“I’ll answer your question with another question,” She poised, “Why will these pigs not die?”
“Actually,” He started forward, “That in no way came close to answering my question. Now, how did you unlock it? The chances of you guessing my password are so infinitesimally small that…”
“It was your name,” she answered.
‘Dammit,” Booker muttered.
“What have you found out about our assailant?” she asked him in reply.
“Slow down, our, that term would include me,” Booker pointed at himself.
“Yes our. I don’t think they will let you get away from your tussle with even one of their novices,” Auralee answered.
“Stop calling him a novice, you’re just upset that I was the one that got to fight him.” Booker walked over and behind to his kitchen area to open his fridge, “and that I won.”
Turning back around with a small carton of eggs in hand and a canister of cinnamon rolls he went back to her question from before. “And what do you mean, ‘what have I found out,’ I was asleep, and something tells me ‘elf assassins’ won’t pull up the search results you want. On top of that, my vote is not to pursue danger, which is the polar opposite of finding an enclave of Royal killers.”