Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series

by Vaiya Books

  After cleaning up as best as he could without the proper tools of soap and water, he stood up from the booth, as Eddy moved off to provide him with an exit, and excused himself with “I’ll be back.” Then he strode over to the men’s restroom, covering up his nice yellow shirt with his hands so nobody else would see the stains on it, especially not Kali, who’d definitely make a joke about something like this.

  As he entered the bathroom, noticing he was all alone, he suddenly heard a powerful rumble of thunder, which shook the whole building as if it had it tightly in its grasp; his blood nearly stopped pumping.

  Not again, he thought, panicking, as he dashed to the sink and stuck his hands in front of the motion sensor to activate it. Once the water started running, he sloppily splashed it onto his shirt and pants, many large droplets spattering against the red-checkered floor. Seeing the stains still weren’t coming out, he slapped the soap dispenser once, soon rubbing the pink liquid onto his clothes vigorously, lathering them up, causing them to a exude a white frothy foam.

  Realizing he hadn’t planned this out well as his clothes would likely be sopping wet before he was done with them, he still brought out the water again and rubbed them over his clothes until no white spots remained. He had no other choice now.

  Stains effectively removed, he darted his head around, looking for paper toweling, but instead saw only a hand dryer, a high tech, high-speed one that was attached to the wall and was nearly as high up as his waistline. Hearing another jolt of thunder, he furiously untucked his yellow shirt and stuck it inside the dryer’s crevice, not even wanting to know how he’d dry off his jeans.

  As the dryer instantly picked up, ruffling the lower part of his shirt, he waited nervously, continually glancing at the door, hoping no one else would need to use this facility for at least another two minutes, as it’d take him at least that long to return his clothes to a reasonably dry state.

  Shirt somewhat dried, he grabbed it out as he lifted his right leg and tried to stick the wet fabric of his jeans into the dryer’s gap to activate it, but nothing happened, and he was about to lose his balance. Whatever happened to good old paper towels?

  Just as he was making progress and the dryer had actually turned on somewhat drying off his jeans, a deathly peal of thunder resonated through the restaurant, causing him to thud painfully against the wet tiled floor, his knees taking the brunt of the damage.

  As his knees throbbed in pain, a brilliant flash of light burned into his eyes.

  Shielding his eyes with both hands, moaning beneath his breath, he knew that he couldn’t prevent what was about to happen. Without William here to stop him from teleporting, he knew he was as good as gone.

  As the tiles beneath him turned into dry wooden planks, all he could think was, This is madness!

  Chapter 16

  As the blinding light faded away, a gentle breeze blew across Ian’s face, as he breathed in the salty scent of seawater.

  Flicking open his eyes, noticing the slight temperature drop, he noticed that he was sitting on the edge of a wooden pier, which stretched some ten feet into a blue-green lake, which, as he looked into the distance, seemed to fade away behind a grove of vibrant lush trees. Taking a guess, he’d say that this lake was a large cove, and that the ocean was just beyond those trees.

  Turning towards the shoreline, he instantly took a liking for it. A sandy white beach arose from the lake, and from his view he could make out four purple striped crabs, a few pale green starfish, and many unusual creatures which he couldn’t put a name to even if he’d been a marine biologist. Farther out, a thick forest took off right where the beach ended, though a couple of the hardier trees actually resided on the sand.

  Overall, the landscape was amazing, far better than the cold frigid place he would’ve teleported to last time if William hadn’t saved him. Still, he couldn’t relax. Behind any one of those trees could be a murderous Elayan, an elf bent on strict justice, or a hostile dwarf. Somehow he doubted this last one as his concept of dwarves didn’t permit them to make ocean resorts their homes, yet this world was already turning out to be unlike any fantasy movie he’d watched so he couldn’t make any such assumptions. He’d have to be ready for anything if he wanted to come out of here alive again.

  Dangling his shoes inches from the clear water, he tried to force himself to keep this serious mindset, yet, despite that, it was a lost cause. Gazing into the sunlit lake, he watched ivory-colored fishes darting back and forth as if involved in a chasing game, the calming cry of birds taking him on an early vacation, the rippling of the water filling him with peace. Surely, this place of all places was paradise.

  As he rolled up his jeans so they wouldn’t get wet, his eyelids slowly shutting, he suddenly startled by a loud splash, his bliss shattering in pieces. Eyes jolting open, he saw the strikingly handsome face of a man in the water below him. Short black hair decked with tiny shells and crowned with golden seaweed hung from the man’s head, while a bright golden tunic embroidered with ocean wave designs and decorated with bluish-purple conch shells clung to his chest like a diver’s swimsuit. His cerulean blue eyes shone with both innocence and compassion, as they examined Ian, as an artist would examine a finished work.

  Completely hypnotized by the swimmer’s friendly gaze at first, Ian at once grew wary as he refocused on the man’s aquatic appearance. This was no human, but a merman.

  A tingling sensation of fear and disgust coursed through his body at this last thought. He’d never been a big fan of these half-human, half-fish creatures like a lot people, mainly girls, at his school were. To him they were gross. Even the notion of having a slimy fish tail instead of legs revolted him.

  Worse still, these creatures were known to be deceitfully wicked. Just today in Ancient History class, his teacher Frank Montelli had warned his students to beware the siren’s alluring call. After receiving blank looks, Montelli went on to describe that sirens were basically mermaids, mermaids that bewitched sailors, leading them to their deaths.

  Always been one given to an overactive imagination, Ian had shivered at this gruesome thought. It perfectly reinforced what he’d learned from watching the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean movie on Sunday. Mermaids were vile, devious creatures. And if mermaids were so evil, what was to say that their male counterpart would be any better? Nothing really. If anything, the males were probably even more dangerous and vicious than the females.

  Yet even with these warnings blaring in his head, he still couldn’t permit himself to take off running down the pier. Something about the merman intrigued him and he wanted to know what he was doing here and what he wanted. So, against his better judgment, Ian decided to remain silent and appear as friendly as possible, hoping that the merman would see him as a friend for doing so, and not an enemy, for he already had plenty enough of those in this world.

  Staying nearly motionless, his anxiety biting away at him, Ian watched the merman slowly swimming closer and felt a strong urge to speak to him and ask him what was going on. Unfortunately, though, this wasn’t possible, as he now knew no languages in this world, the Elven language now entirely gone from his mind just like Azadar had said it would be.

  Sure, he could try to speak English, but that didn’t seem like it’d work at all--it hadn’t for the elves. Worse still, he could try his limited Spanish, but from the look of the man, he likely wouldn’t even comprehend the childish basics of the language. No, he had no choice but to remain still, hoping that the merman would somehow bridge the communication gap.

  However, rather than saying anything or even signing with his hands, the merman just continued to swim closer to him to the point where Ian was thoroughly frightened. His only two reasons for not jumping up and running away as fast as possible were that the merman didn’t look hostile, and that his intense curiosity as to what the man wanted from him wouldn’t permit him to leave. Thus, Ian remained stuck in his spot while the man settled down directly below him, his face only several feet from I
an’s legs.

  Gazing into his anxious face, Ian held his breath as the man reached into his tunic and pulled out an orange-colored vial of clear liquid.

  Unscrewing the lid, the man poured a single droplet onto his fingers and, before Ian could react, rubbed it onto the skin of his right leg.

  Jerking his leg back as if poison had been rubbed on it, as images of death preyed upon his mind, Ian scrambled further back onto the pier, when a weird dizzying sensation flowed through his body, reminiscent of the feeling of waking up out of a deep sleep.

  Instantaneously, previously unknown words, strange symbols and letters, and unique sounds from at least five different languages raced through his mind, causing him to gasp in astonishment as he tried to take in all the information.

  Before he could make some sense of what had happened though, the man spoke up: “I will save you the astonishment of finding out,” he began in a somewhat rushed tone, as he raised his long blue tail above the water briefly before quickly submerging it with a quiet splash. “I am a merman.”

  Ian was speechless. Though he’d already guessed the man’s race, seeing his tail connected to his upper body made it all come alive to Ian. He felt his stomach crawl. Gross. How could this guy possibly live with a fish tail attached to him?

  Cringing, Ian thought back to five years ago when his dad Ben had taken him and his brother Erik fishing. Though they’d both loved the sport and had caught many fish, he just couldn’t get over the fishy smell and slimy feel of the bluegills and found it one of the worst experiences in his life. Of course, Ben and Erik had teased him relentlessly about his aversion to these critters, but none of their taunting could change his mind. He’d never fished since. In fact, he’d tried to avoid even seeing fish after that day as they always brought back unpleasant memories and odors to his mind. It had generally worked well--until today, that is.

  Now, seeing this merman right in front of him, he had no choice but to remember that fishing trip. Face distorting as he remembered when his brother Erik had thrown a fish at him, he was suddenly thrown from his thoughts by the man’s now urgent voice:

  “Rescue my daughter, Taeria,” he commanded urgently, as if there were no time to spare, a strange mixture of authority and fear resonating in his voice, which had been previously calm and relaxed.

  “What?” exclaimed Ian, barely noticing the man’s melodious flowing language filled with numerous vowels, as he was too confused by the words.

  Sensing his confusion, the merman quickly got to his point. “She’s up there in that cage.” His voice grew sterner, as he glanced at Ian before steadying his sharp gaze on the tree. “The woodsmen imprisoned her.”

  Bewildered, Ian looked in the direction the man was gazing and froze, his eyes locking onto a young mermaid trapped up in a tree and held in a steel cage that was attached to two nearby branches by a pair of iron chains. Her only garment was a somewhat-tight aqua dress that reached down from her neck to where her four-foot long violet tail began. Her beautiful hair, long, creamy, and golden, draped over her shoulders in such a way as to enhance her youthfulness.

  As he continued to stare at her, the mermaid, as if alarmed by his gaze, began thrashing her tail back and forth against the cage, her face distorted with fear, her arms grasping the bars of the cage as if searching for a way to open it.

  A normal person might have pitied her, but he wasn’t about to fall for her tricks. There was likely a good reason as to why she was imprisoned. The woodsmen that the merman had so angrily mentioned might actually be on his side. If he freed the mermaid, he’d likely be freeing a monster. Who knows, she might even be a siren? Anything was possible in this world.

  Turning his eyes back to the merman, he was just about to refuse to help, when the merman suddenly spoke up, his mouth curved into a sad frown, his arms nearly limp at his sides, “I understand your need for caution, human, but we are not going to hurt you. We are a peaceful race.”

  His words stirring him, Ian looked once more at him and then spared another glance at his captive daughter. Truly, the two merpeople didn’t appear hostile at all. To imagine them ever killing or hurting someone seemed nearly as impossible as picturing Jimmy completely unafraid of chatting with girls; it just couldn’t happen.

  With these thoughts in his mind, Ian continued staring at the mermaid, though instead of happiness, he actually felt discouragement at the conclusion he’d drawn. Now, with no good excuse, he knew he’d have to try to free the mermaid. And that was not something he’d anticipated at all.

  As if sensing his hesitation, the merman spoke again, his tone now laced with worry and grief, “The tides are turning; you must save her now. They could return at any moment.”

  Something about these words struck a nervous chord in his heart and before he knew what he was doing, he’d dashed down the pier, raced over a thin area of wet sand, and stepped onto the damp grass, below the maple tree where the mermaid was imprisoned. Looking up, he judged the distance between him and her to be at least fifteen feet. This wouldn’t be an easy climb.

  Knowing that whoever got her up there had to have had some way to get up, he searched the tree for footholds and soon found them--ten wooden spikes. All the branches, except for nearby ones which could be used for support, were cut off on this side of the tree, making it a straight climb up.

  Briefly considering the idea of going barefoot, he discarded it as he heard the merman shout again. He didn’t have any time to waste, and his tennis shoes were double-knotted and wouldn’t come off easily. This would be challenging, but he’d manage; at least he wasn’t wearing dress shoes.

  Putting his foot on the lowest spike, he gripped onto the spike above him and hoisted himself up. Though he’d rock climbed twice in his life, this was much harder and more painful. It wasn’t going to be enjoyable.

  Repeating the process for the eight remaining spikes, he, not caring to notice how high up he was, immediately scrambled onto the thick branches of the tree, and began examining the cage, looking for a way to open it. As he did so, the mermaid stared at him horror, as if he were her executioner, large aqua teardrops falling from her sky blue eyes like raindrops.

  A bit put off by her unusually colored tears and her shocked look, he stood there for a few seconds, feeling slightly guilty over his harsh stereotyping of her. There was no way this mermaid could hurt him. She looked anything but evil.

  Mind made up, it took him only a short while to come up with the right words: “Don’t worry, I’m here to help you,” he said to her in the merfolk language, instantly noting how bizarre the new words felt coming out of his mouth. His tongue moved in unusual ways he didn’t think were possible, and his lips shifted and rounded to awkward positions. He felt like a baby attempting to speak, yet his words were clearly understood by the mermaid, as the abject look of terror slowly faded from her eyes.

  Glad that she seemed to be calming down, he hurriedly searched for an opening to the cage and quickly spotted a simple locking mechanism. Brushing back the sticks and leaves, he pulled back the steel bar, grabbed onto the door of the cage, and flung it open.

  “You’re safe now,” he assured her, as her fearful blue eyes, wandering with dreamy paranoia, focused first on him, then the ground, then onto the woods. She didn’t look too convinced by his words. Her light pink lips still trembled, her fair hands still shook, and her tail still curled anxiously.

  Wondering what he should do now, his mind soon struck on an idea, really, the only safe idea, as his mouth contorted in disgust at the very thought. Why did he have to be so weak? Now was not the time to let his petty aversion to fish affect him.

  After wrestling it over in his mind for a short while, he finally gained enough courage to go ahead with his plan. Looking at her anxiously, he murmured in a faint tone, “Don’t worry; I’m going to carry you out of here.”

  Nervousness sweeping over him, he put his plan into action and gently put his left hand underneath her warm, slippery tail, which felt
smooth rather than slimy to his touch, his other hand holding firmly onto her back, before lifting up her delicate form and carrying her out of the cage. Though, he wasn’t feeling sick yet, he knew that if he had to carry her much longer, things could get ugly. The very feel of her tail was making him rather nauseous.

  After she was safely outside of the cage, Ian stood, bewildered, his shoes lodging between a crack in the branches, holding the mermaid who likely weighed one-hundred pounds. What could he do now? The lake was at least ten feet away from here and there was no way he could throw her from that distance. Dropping her down to the sand seemed a bad idea as well as she’d likely get hurt--some rescuer he’d be then.

  As his arms began aching under the pressure, an idea suddenly came to him. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on tightly,” he said sternly, as if instructing a child, while he blushed from the awkwardness of the situation, the mermaid gazing at him as if she were a frightened deer. “I’m going to carry you down from here. You’re not going to get hurt.”

  Setting her down gently on a thick branch of the tree with her back against the tree trunk so she wouldn’t fall down, he then turned around and kneeled down, waiting for her to follow his instructions. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Apparently, piggyback rides were not common among the merfolk. It took her some time and a lot of scrambling, readjusting, and small tips of advice from him before she found the right position, and even then, it was clear she’d never done this before in her life, which was very likely given that fact that she wasn’t human.

  Crouching down, he placed his first foot on a wooden spike while his arms held a sturdy branch above him. The mermaid’s long tail dangling behind his legs, her arms wrapped firmly around his chest, her face too close to his, he bit his lip in embarrassment, as he imagined his sister videotaping the scene and posting it on YouTube. He flushed. It was too awful to think about. Why did being a hero have to be so awkward?