by E. Latimer
The tears prickling my eyes threatened to spill over, and I leaned forward and wrapped her in a hug. "You're a lifesaver. I promise I'll call you."
We broke apart, and I gave her a watery smile, shoving the plastic bag into her backpack before slinging it over my shoulder.
"And I'll see you again....once this all blows over," I said.
If this all blew over.
The schoolyard was empty, and I climbed back into the taxi, asking the driver to take me to the bus depot. I sighed, leaning my face against the window. Inwardly, I cursed Loki. And my English teacher, and the fierce-looking blond man who’d stood in my yard just staring. All of them could go straight to hell.
They had to be looking for me still, all of them. Maybe California was a terrible idea. Wouldn't they expect me to go there? Maybe they knew who my friends were. And Loki knew my plans.
But California was a big place. All I had to do was find somewhere to hide until they stopped looking for me. I shut my eyes and let my mind wander, thoughts blending and drifting with the rumble of the engine.
Chapter Eleven
The palace library is full of the scent of leather-bound books. Shelves spiral up to the ceiling, enough to make you dizzy if you gaze upward for too long. After battle, I sit by the great stone fireplace. Books have so many words, but they do not speak. It is their silence I find comforting.
I walk to the table, holding a book I have yet to finish, the soft echo of my footsteps the only sound in the stillness. It’s a book of poetry I read each time I come to the library, a weighty tome that may very well outlast me. I find relief in the pictures the author paints, solace in the calm fields and seas of his imagination.
I become lost in the words, no longer seeing battle gore or smelling the stench of death. Even the words of the queen cannot calm me as these do.
~ * ~
The taxi jerked to a stop, knocking my forehead on the window.
I groaned, sitting upright, only to be greeted by a crick in my neck. I paid the driver with the crumpled ten dollar bill from Charlotte and crawled out, still fuzzy with sleep. Clearly my brain was still torturing me with the stories Loki told me. I didn’t want to dream about queens and battlefields and soldiers, I just wanted my life back.
The bus depot was crowded. People waited under the station shelters with their luggage, saying goodbye to their families. My stomach fluttered, and for a second, I wished I'd asked Charlotte to come with me. That would have been selfish though.
She wasn't in any danger, and there was no sense worrying her parents. I already felt bad enough about Uncle Dave. I was determined to get a note to him as soon as possible.
The schedule on the wall showed an hour wait for the bus I wanted. Irritated, I leaned against the wall behind one of the benches to people-watch. There were a couple of dreadlocked hippies on the bench, one of them clutching a cigarette between his fingers.
I waved the smoke away as it trailed behind him. It reminded me of the disgusting cigar smell.
Periodically, I scanned the sidewalks, still jumpy enough to be paranoid. That’s how I spotted him, a tall figure pushing his way through the crowd.
My heart lurched as he strode toward the depot.
Loki's dark curls were squashed under a black, knit winter hat. He was searching the crowd, and it wouldn’t be long before he spotted me.
I was too tall, too pale. Too obvious.
There was no way I could get on a bus without him seeing me.
I slid sideways along the wall, falling into step with a couple holding hands as they passed. Luckily, Loki was looking the other way, and I managed to slip around the side of the building.
Once he was out of sight, I sprinted to the nearest building and yanked the doors open.
I ended up in the lobby of a bland-looking motel, staring at the startled young woman behind the front desk, hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath and quell the sick panic in my stomach.
She peered through thick glasses. "Can I help you?"
Embarrassed, I straightened up and cleared my throat. “Um, yes.”
What the hell. Why not, right?
"I'd like a room."
She brightened. “Of course. Just for yourself?"
"Sure. Doesn't need to be fancy."
She smiled, like I’d made some kind of joke, and I wondered what sort of hotel I’d signed myself up for. "How much is it for just the night?"
"Sixty dollars."
I gulped, grateful for Charlotte's credit card as the woman swiped it through the machine. When she looked up at me, I gripped the edge of the counter and forced what I hoped was a cheerful smile. Any minute now, she was going to ask for ID and figure out the credit card wasn’t mine.
“All right. We’ll put you in room two-oh-three.” The woman slid a key card over the counter.
I snatched it up, giving her a relieved smile. “Thank you.”
“Of course. The elevators are just around the corner.”
~ * ~
The door slid open on level two, and I stepped into a narrow hallway lined with white doors. Large, gold numbers distinguished one from another. My room was easy to find since it was only about ten feet from the elevators.
The room was only slightly less grungy than the hotel lobby, done in horrible beige and green wallpaper.
Beggars can't be choosers. Wasn't that the saying? It was just temporary. I'd head back to the bus depot in the morning.
I threw my pack on the bed, sitting down with a groan that was almost drowned out by the squeak of rusty bedsprings. My stomach was practically eating itself, which was distracting while I was trying to figure out my next step. I’d eaten the pilfered sandwiches in the cab this morning, but that had been hours ago.
There was no room service in this type of motel. It was venture outside or starve.
I dug through Charlotte's pack, discovering a pair of worn mittens, a snack bar, a change of clothing, and a red knit hat.
My stomach growled, but I put the snack bar aside just in case the card got canceled. I pulled the hat on, tucking my hair inside as best I could. There was nothing I could do about my height, but at least I could walk around without looking all platinum.
I studied myself in the bathroom mirror.
Six-foot-tall girls weren’t that uncommon, right?
The girl at the desk recommended a few places for food. The best of which was a sandwich shop down the street that sounded cheap and far away enough from the bus depot. I kept my head down and stuck to the crowds, making sure I was never walking by myself.
He'd be looking for someone walking alone.
Another wave of sadness washed over me as I thought about Charlotte. It would have been so much easier if she had been there.
The sandwich shop was tiny, wedged between two clothing stores. Both were closed, their dark windows contrasting with the shop’s brightly lit interior.
The bell over the door jangled as I pushed my way inside. Thankfully it was crowded, which meant I’d be less noticeable if Loki happened to walk past.
At a table near the back, a couple was making googly eyes at one another over sandwiches, and a noisy family with plates of grilled cheese filled the corner booth. The food smelled amazing.
My stomach rumbled, and I hurried to the front to place my order.
While I waited, I checked my phone, which was down to one bar of battery. I borrowed a pen from behind the counter to scribble Charlotte’s number on a napkin before the phone died permanently.
Soon, I sat in a corner booth, devouring the first real meal in what felt like forever. I was halfway through the ham and cheese sandwich when a voice spoke from beside me.
"Hello."
My stomach plunged, and I looked up, the sandwich forgotten.
It wasn't Loki, but it was just as bad.
The man was very tall, with wintery-blue eyes and blond hair. I remembered the firm jaw and square chin. His face was practically branded into my memory—it
was the last thing I’d seen before everything went dark. There was bandage on his temple where Loki had hit him.
The hairs rose on the back of my neck, and I braced myself.
He couldn’t do anything in front of all these people, could he? I had nothing to defend myself with. It wasn't like I could freeze him. Maybe I could duck and roll out of the booth and make a break for the door.
“I'm just here to talk.” He held up his hands, and his eyes were wide and earnest. "I know you can't possibly trust me right now, but I promise I don't want to hurt you."
I stared at him, lips pressed together, arms folded across my chest.
"Can I sit down, Megan?"
That startled me into speaking. "Don't pretend you know me."
"Sorry." He slid into the seat opposite me. "The truth is I don't know you, but I was sent to take you back home to the palace. And for the record, I don't agree with how my commander went about it."
"Mr. Scott, you mean. He wasn't really an English teacher, was he?"
"He was just at the school to make sure nothing happened to you girls."
I scowled. "Until he was ready to kidnap us, you mean."
"That was a mistake. He's a fool." His brows pulled down, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to figure out if his expression was sincere. Either he was genuinely annoyed at the actions of his commander, or he was a very good actor.
"Look," he said. "I promise I'm not here to try anything funny. Let me at least introduce myself. I'm Erik."
"Good for you.” Being surrounded by people made me feel a little braver. "Now, go away."
He sighed, running his fingers through his hair, which made it stand on end. "I really am sorry. I didn't expect him to do that. I told him I was simply going to talk to you. A civil conversation like we're having now."
"But this queen—she ordered us to be knocked out?" I raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like someone I want to meet." I recalled the dreams I’d had, the sense of loyalty my dream-self seemed to have toward this queen. It couldn’t be the same person, could it? That was impossible.
Maybe the weird dreams were some kind of jotun thing though.
Part of me badly wanted to ask him about it. But then he might think I was warming up to him. And I wasn't.
"She just wanted to make sure you all got to her. She didn't order him to do any of that. In fact, right now, your Mr. Scott is in a world of trouble. I doubt he’ll be commander for much longer. You were supposed to go to sleep and wake up in a beautiful room in the palace. All the other girls did."
"How are they?" I asked quickly. "You didn't hurt any of them, did you?"
"Not at all." He leaned back, tucking a hand behind his head. "They're all settling in nicely. That girl, Amy—she was pretty excited about the palace, kept repeating how she’d known it. That they were all princesses or something like that."
"That does sound like Amy," I muttered reluctantly.
"You must have tons of questions," Erik said. "Listen, I'm not going to drag you anywhere. In fact, I'll leave right now. But can I meet you here again tomorrow? I'll buy you breakfast."
"I don't know if they serve breakfast here." It was a ridiculous thing to say, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
"Breakfast sandwich." Erik smiled, and it warmed his cool features. "Plus, if you like, I can teach you how to control the cold thing."
I stared at him, hope swelling in my chest. "You mean I won't freeze people anymore?"
"Not if you don't want to. I'll show you. Tomorrow?"
I grimaced, not wanting to give him an answer just yet. I had to think about it. "How did you know I was here anyways? How did you find me?"
Erik's face went grave, and he reached out and tapped my cell phone with one finger. "You might want to turn this off. Better yet, take the battery out. I'm assuming you now have others after you?"
My stomach lurched as I looked down. I felt like kicking myself. Pressing my lips together hard, I flipped the phone over and slid the battery out before shoving it into my pocket. I refused to make eye contact with him, sure he thought I was a moron.
Apparently, I don't watch enough spy movies.
He was obviously trying to gain my trust by showing me the cell phone thing. Technically, he couldn't trace me now if I decided to take the next bus out of town.
"All right," I said slowly. "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning, but I'm not leaving here till you're gone, and we're not leaving this place tomorrow. We stay here. In front of lots of people. And I want to know everything. Everything about this queen and why she wants us, and...and what I am. What I can do."
"Deal." He stood up and placed his palms on the table, leaning in closer.
I forced myself not to flinch back.
"You'll come around eventually, Amora."
"What? What's that?" I asked. Had he just called me some horrible frost giant swear word?
"Your real name."
Chapter Twelve
The bed was uncomfortable, and I had the horrible crawly feeling you get when you're not sure if there are bugs on you or not. But I couldn't have slept if I’d been in the nicest hotel room in the world because a million crazy thoughts were burning holes in my brain.
"Amora." I said it out loud just to roll it off my tongue.
Erik had said that it was a Norse name—no surprise there—and it meant “powerful eagle.” I wasn't sure I'd describe myself that way. I thought "cowering chicken" suited me a lot better.
I stared at the ceiling, and Erik's face, with his white-blond hair and bright-blue eyes, was sharp in my mind. He was attractive, if somewhat cold.
Ha ha. I’m so funny.
The question was: Could I trust him? Part of me considered leaving, packing my meager belongings, and fleeing the hotel. What if tomorrow’s meeting was a trap?
The TV was comforting background noise, familiar commercials, and reruns. I closed my eyes. My body felt heavy with exhaustion, like I was melting into the mattress. The noise fractured and faded in static bursts as I drifted in and out.
"Tonight...a look into..."
"...news at nine..."
"...six girls missing from a small town..."
I sat up so fast that the room swam in circles. Blinking frantically, I tried to focus on the screen.
The news anchor was a sharply dressed woman with short, brown hair. She spoke rapidly into the camera. On the left side of the screen was a photo of Amy, which melted into Stacey and then Becca. Shock sucked my breath away when my face replaced Alicia’s.
The picture was one Dave had taken a few years ago, back in California. It showed me laughing up at the camera, a checkered picnic blanket underneath me. My face was freckled and tan, my hair three shades darker than it was now. Stunned, I reached up and touched the end of my ponytail.
It hadn't happened as fast as I'd thought. My hair had been slowly growing lighter for the past few years. It had happened so gradually that I hadn’t noticed. And when I glanced at my arm... Well, my skin was ghostly white now, nothing like the tan, freckle-faced girl in the photo. Was it from the move and lack of sun or something else?
The photos vanished, and the news reporter started discussing the case with her co-anchor. I leaned forward on the bed, clasping my knees to my chest, pulse picking up speed.
"...just vanished. They didn't show up at school one morning."
"But it's been two days." The male anchor, a slick-haired man in a black suit, poked at the papers on the desk in front of him with a pencil. "The families still have hope in this case. In fact, some are saying they reported it too soon. That the girls are simply playing hooky. One of the families has hired a private detective, it seems, not content with the police involvement in this case."
The woman looked scornful. "Hooky seems unlikely in this case, Tom. The girls are all very similar in appearance."
The pictures flashed on the screen again, and I studied each girl's face.
Erik had sa
id that they were okay. They were safe in the palace. They were settling in. Were they thinking about their families?
My nails bit into my palms as I clenched my fists.
Dave must be panicking by now. I couldn't stand letting him think I'd been kidnapped. Loki had said that no one could know, but...what the hell did Loki know anyway? He clearly didn’t have my best interests at heart.