by Amy Patrick
“I feel great. I’m so jealous of you. I wish I was eighteen too and could travel like you do. I’ve always wanted to see New York my whole life.”
I smiled. Her whole life had been just fourteen years. “You will. And it’ll probably be even cooler by the time you make it here. I’m heading south. Where do you think I should go next?”
“Disney World!” The response was immediate and made me laugh out loud. Her enthusiastic suggestions always amused me, though this was one I wouldn’t take. I had a limited budget, and I’d already visited the parks when I was a kid with my family. Going back there alone would be too sad. New Orleans was somewhere I’d never been, and it seemed like another great city to disappear in.
Before I could respond, Olly had another idea.
“Come and see me here—please, please, please. Mum and Nanna are so keen to meet you. You’ll love the street art, and we can go shopping at Cabot Circus and get a ninety-nine from Mr. Whippy.”
“What? What’s a ninety-nine? Who’s Mr. Whippy?”
“Mr. Whippy isn’t a man—it’s a kind of ice cream, silly. Oh, it’s the best. A ninety-nine is a soft-serve cone that has a Cadbury Flake chocolate stuck in it. You have to try it. Please Macy. Come see me. We have an extra room now that my brother Wes has moved out, so you can stay as long as you like. I’d come see you, but I’m on total lockdown since I ran away. They only let me go to school and back.”
Her plea was so sweet, so heartfelt, and her little pout was so cute. I hated to disappoint her. But I couldn’t say “yes.” I couldn’t go back to Europe—not yet. Probably not ever.
Nic had made me promise to get out only hours before he’d died trying to save me and the other fan pod girls—and the rest of my race. England had been where I’d started my backpacking adventure before moving on to Belgium, Paris, and eventually Corsica, where I’d met Nic. If my nightly visions of him felt real here—four thousand miles and an ocean away—how much worse would the nightmares be on European soil? He was already like a ghost who followed me no matter where I went.
“I don’t think so kiddo. I’m not sure I could handle being over there. Please try to understand.”
“I do. But I still miss you.”
My dead heart actually felt something—a painful squeeze. I missed her, too. That was the other reason I couldn’t go. I cared about Olly. I wanted her to be happy and healthy. What I didn’t want was to get any closer—I didn’t want to grow to love her like I loved Lily and Mom and Dad. And she was so much like my little sister, so sweet and open and loving herself, I knew it would be inevitable if we spent any considerable time together. She already hero-worshipped me the way Lily used to. It was better for me—and for Olly—if we kept our friendship limited to just long-distance messaging and the occasional Skype chat. I just couldn’t handle more than that.
“You, too,” I said quickly, adding, “Maybe one of these days.”
I was about to say good-bye when Olly’s wispy, high voice piped up.
“Macy… there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you. I know you’re sad. And I know what happened to us over there was bad. What happened to Nic was really bad. But life is not all bad. Good can still happen. Mum always says life is filled with surprises. You never know what’s around the corner.”
Her mom was wrong about that. I knew what was around the corner. A world-ending plague. A race of arrogant evil Dark Elves in the Ancient Court whose attitude was, “If you can’t rule them, kill them.” And I was powerless to stop any of it.
Sometimes I wished I didn’t even know about this incredible world-within-our-own. Then I could just carry on in ignorant bliss until the inevitable happened. Then I could believe, like sweet, innocent Olly did, that good could still happen.
As it was, the best I could do was keep moving, try to forget, and hope that the worst didn’t happen. Somehow.
“Okay kiddo. Thanks. Talk to you soon.”
I closed the window and logged off the computer, grabbing my pack and heading for the door. Moving on once again—alone. And I’d stay alone—except for my ghosts.
2
Anders
I could hear the screams even before the taxi stopped in front of the gate and the door opened. How many kids did Ian invite to this thing anyway?
“Oh wow,” Kayla said as she got out of the cab’s other door and stood, not moving away from the car but staring at my family’s home in Brentwood. “This is some kinda house. It’s like, freaking ginormous. Are your parents, like, movie stars or something?”
“Uh… yeah, well, kind of. My mom was an actress. She’s retired. My dad’s a musician.” She turned and batted a big, brown, heavily made up eye at me. “Well, you coulda warned me you lived in a freaking mansion.”
“I don’t. My parents and my brother do. It was… a nice place to grow up,” I said, chuckling quietly at the shock and awe, handing the cab driver several bills before taking her arm to lead her through the gate, down the long drive, and around the side of the “ginormous” house toward the backyard.
I hadn’t bothered to “warn” Kayla because she wasn’t exactly going to be a regular visitor to my family’s home. She was here for one purpose—deflection. I’d already learned not to expose my lovebird parents to any serious Anders-should-settle-down candidates. Kayla and I had gone out once, and I’d never called again until now, when I needed something—someone rather—to help keep the conversation at home superficial. Kayla was a nice enough girl—there just wasn’t anything there, which was totally fine. She was cute and friendly and not-too-smart—in other words, perfect.
The volume of the high-pitched screams and shouts and laughter tripled as we rounded the corner of the house, and all the kids came into view. They were dressed in swimsuits, jumping in and out of the pool, streaking across the yard to the bounce house, running in circles chasing each other. Mom had gone all-out with the decorations. The theme was Legos—Ian’s obsession—and all the movies were represented in some way. There were life-sized sculptures that looked like they’d been airlifted here from Legoland. Maybe they had been.
Surveying the crowd of sweaty little bodies, I spotted the top of Ian’s ultra-blond head. He was surrounded by a pack of boys. Armed with candy-colored water cannons, they seemed to be planning some sort of mischief regarding the group of girls sunbathing nearby on the deck.
“Yo—squirt,” I shouted.
My mini-me brother’s head popped up from the huddle, and he twisted one way then the other, searching. When he finally spotted me, his face split into a wide smile. His eyes brightened the way they always did when I came around, making my heart feel like the sun was shining directly on it. He ran toward me at top speed, crashing into me and wrapping his wiry arms around my waist.
“Anders! You made it.”
“Of course. I wasn’t going to miss my brochacho’s eleventh birthday.”
He reared back with a puzzled, but flattered, expression. “Hey—I’m only eight!”
“Are you sure?” I teased. “You look at least ten to me. How many inches did you grow since I saw you? It’s only been three months.”
“Two and a half,” he said proudly. “I’m so glad you came. Mom said you might not make it in time because of, you know, airports and traffic and stuff.”
“Nah. I told them the world’s greatest eight-year-old pianist was having a party, and they all cleared the way for me.” I made a plane out of my hand and sailed it at him, landing it on his head where I ruffled the fine, light hair. It was cut exactly like mine—short around the sides and back, a bit longer on top. “It was smooth sailing.”
“Is that my present?” Ian asked, eyeing the large bag I held in the other hand.
I presented it to him. “All yours buddy.”
He ripped the tissue paper out of it and lifted the box from inside. “Whoa! You got me the helicarrier? Awesome! Thank you, Anders. Thank you.” Burying his face in my stomach, he hugged me again hard.
I
patted his back. “You’re welcome, squirt. Happy birthday.”
Just noticing the girl beside me, Ian darted a shy glance at her then brought questioning eyes back to meet mine.
“Oh. This is my friend Kayla,” I said. “She heard this was going to be an epic party and wanted to come along. You don’t mind, do you?”
He cut a mischievous grin at her. “No. Not as long as she doesn’t scream when the cool snake guy gets here from the zoo. I told the girls in my class they could come to my party but—No. Screaming.”
“That’s a reasonable request.” Turning to my female companion, whose face had gone pale, I asked, “Kayla, do you think you can manage not to scream when the cool snake guy gets here?”
“Um… I don’t know. I really, really don’t like snakes.” Her voice was shaky, the carefully crafted Valley-girl accent momentarily dislodged.
Ian’s face scrunched and he gave me a Really dude? look. I gave him a what’re-ya-gonna-do look in return.
You don't love her, do you? he asked me mind-to-mind, his mental tone highly disapproving.
Don’t worry, I assured him. She's just a friend. I am still single and loving it.
Good, he said, nodding with satisfaction. Whenever you DO get a bond-mate, make sure she likes cool snakes first.
Good advice my man, good advice.
“Come and meet my friends.” Ian spoke aloud this time and clutched my hand, tugging me across the yard. I laughed and followed. Kayla did not laugh, but she followed, too. I had a feeling I’d be calling a cab for my “date” before this party was through.
Ian introduced me to what felt like about two hundred kids, most of them his human classmates, though there were a few Elven friends as well. Afterward, I made my way through the throng to the patio, where my parents were setting up for lunch.
“Anders, honey, you made it,” Mom declared in a delighted tone. She set down the colorful paper plates she was holding and crossed the patio to hug me. “You look wonderful. How was your flight?”
“Great. Fine. Our show was only in Denver, so it wasn’t a long one. How are you holding up? This is some crazy scene.”
She laughed. “Well, you know your father.” She nodded toward the tall, ultra-fit man across the patio working the grill. “Nothing is too good for his boys.”
She was being kind by adding the “s” to that last word. It had been a while, but I remembered all my birthdays very well, and there certainly had never been a party like this for any of them, with a cast of thousands and a bouncy house and a visit from the zoo’s snake guy.
“I think Dad’s getting a little indulgent in his old age,” she added with an eye-roll. “Ian doesn’t even know about the dirt bike yet.”
Though her words were scolding, the look she threw his way was filled with fondness. Dad could have carted the entire zoo over here and bought Ian a monster truck, and she wouldn’t have complained. One, because she was crazy about my brother. And two, my dad could do no wrong in her eyes. They’d been married for fifty-four years, and they were not only bond-mates, they were soul mates.
My parents were a rarity in the Dark Court, married by choice rather than arrangement. A prolific songwriter, my father swore he’d heard a complete symphony the moment he met my mother. Luckily for them, their parents had been the Elven equivalent of hippies—believers in true love, freedom of choice, and Elven-human equality. Unlike many of their contemporaries, neither of them had ever kept a fan pod. Also unlike many of my friends’ parents, they hadn’t chosen a bond-mate for me by age eighteen. Instead they’d encouraged me to follow my heart.
So far, all it had led me to was music, but Mom was certain “that special someone” was just around the corner and advised me to keep an eye out. She took one look at Kayla, and I could tell Mom knew as well as I did that this one wasn’t it.
“Hello,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Patrice.”
“Oh, sorry. Mom, this is Kayla. Kayla, my mom.”
“Hello Mrs. J. It’s super nice to meet you. You have a gorgeous home, and Anders told me you were a movie star?”
Mom blinked, apparently caught off guard. “Yes, I used to act quite a bit. That was… a while ago. Now I’m a full-time mommy and party hostess extraordinaire,” she joked.
“Oh yeah. It is a good party,” Kayla said, missing the sarcasm altogether. “This is like every one of my parties growing up, all smashed together into one.”
“Well, we’re older parents,” Mom explained. “Almost like grandparents, really. We might spoil him just a bit.”
Kayla tilted her head to one side like a bewildered puppy, eying my tan, fit, unwrinkled mother. “You don’t look old.”
Realizing her slip, Mom laughed a tad too brightly and put a hand on Kayla’s shoulder. “Aren’t you sweet? Listen, would you mind helping me put out the rest of the plates? I suspect we’re going to be attacked by a horde of ravenous beasts any minute now. Ian can’t go more than a couple hours before declaring he’s ‘starving.’ Anders, too.” She winked at me and led Kayla away toward the table. “So, are you an aspiring actress?” I heard her ask my date in an effort to further distract her.
Kayla bought it—for full price. “Oh yes. I model now, but I love acting, and I really, really really want to be famous someday. Maybe you could…”
Her predictable words faded as I made my way over to the large built-in grill where Dad was removing some burgers to a large platter on the counter of the outdoor kitchen.
“Need any help?” I asked.
“Son.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder with a smile. “I think I’ve got this part covered. Though you can pull the hot dogs out of the fridge for me there. Top shelf.”
I turned and opened the refrigerator, lifting a monstrous package of hot dogs to the countertop and opening it.
Once the last burger was off the fire, Dad turned around to clap me firmly on the back and embrace me in a brief hug. “How are you? Just get into town?”
“Yep. Drove straight from the airport to Kayla’s house and then here.”
“Tired?”
“Not too bad. I slept on the plane some.”
He did not ask me about our show. He never did. Instead, he asked if I’d gotten in any hiking while in Colorado.
“Actually, yes. I did Pike’s Peak this time. It was only an hour and a half from Denver. Really nice. Perfect weather for it.”
“That’s great. I’m jealous. Wish I could have joined you, but I’m running up against a deadline on this current job—it’s a movie score for J.J. I’ve only got a few weeks to turn it around.”
“Awesome. J.J. always delivers.” Hesitating first, I decided to go ahead and mention my own latest project. “I actually got tapped to do another one.”
“Oh. Which picture?”
“It’s a smaller one, but the script is brilliant, and there’s good buzz about it. I’ve seen some of the dailies. Looks like it might have a chance at the awards this year.”
“Okay, well have fun with it.” His tone was less than enthusiastic, toeing the line of boredom. “Let me know if you need any help.”
Though I fought it with everything in me, heat surged from my chest to my face. “Yeah. Thanks. Well, if you’ve got this covered, I think I’ll go rescue Kayla from birthday party servitude.”
“Sure. Make sure we catch up before you go. Glad you could make it, son.”
I nodded tersely and turned away, striding toward the long confetti-strewn table. “Come inside with me,” I muttered close to Kayla’s ear. “I’ll get you a drink.”
“Oooh. Okay,” she squealed happily. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. J. Everything looks so cute.”
Mom lifted a hand in a bemused wave and raised a single brow at me. Stay on the first floor. No “tours” of the bedrooms.
Mom. I flared my eyes at her, leading Kayla quickly toward the open French doors. Not quickly enough. I could still hear my mother's unsolicited advice.
I’m just saying—don’t put
yourself in a position that’s too tempting. You’re already six months past bonding age. I know it’s not easy.
Can we please not talk about this? Now my face was hot for a different reason, though the air inside was cool.
I just don’t want you to settle. Sometimes life gives you what you crave just before it gives you what you really need. It’s a distraction. Don’t fall for it.
Okay, Mom. Thanks. I’ll… keep that in mind.
Kayla and I walked through the sunroom toward the kitchen—not toward the bedrooms—where I opened the refrigerator, took out a couple sodas and some bottled water and put them on the counter then went to get some glasses from a cabinet.
“Oh,” she said, wearing a funny look. “When you said ‘drink,’ I thought you meant…”
It took me a minute. “Oh. No. I don’t think it’s a good idea to get smashed at my little brother’s birthday party. I know there are sodas and water out there, too. I just thought it would be nice to get out of the heat and away from all the noise.” And my parents.
“Yes, it is.” She regarded me with far too much interest, sidling over to stand right next to me. “It’s nice to be alone with you. I really didn’t think you were ever going to call again.”
Uh oh.
“I’ve been really busy, traveling a lot.”
“It’s okay. You’re here now. So… where do you want to go after this?” She dipped her chin and raised one brow suggestively.
I turned away, studiously filling the glasses with ice. “I might have to go home and get some work done—depending on how long this thing goes.”