by Chloe Jacobs
She felt a little guilty for snapping earlier, and even though she had no intention of telling her anything, agreeing to see her again and agreeing to go to school would probably make everyone happy. “I guess it would be okay to meet in the morning, and I wouldn’t mind going back to school in a few days, as long as none of the boys leave while I’m gone,” she said with a shrug.
“I’m sure we can coordinate that,” she answered with a relieved smile. “Nobody wants any of you to feel anxious during this transition.”
Greta got up from the table and turned to go. “I guess that would be fine then.”
Ms. Davidson called after her. “Would you ask if your friend Isaac would like to come in and see me for a few minutes?”
With her back to the woman, Greta froze. “Uh, okay. Sure.”
She wasn’t actually afraid that Isaac would say or do anything too weird, but the social worker was observant. There were some traits a person just couldn’t hide, and that monumental arrogance of his was one of them. She wished she could stay for their interview. It would probably be the most entertaining part of her day.
Isaac was waiting when she exited the dining room and raised a brow when she told him that the counsellor wanted to see him. His shoulder brushed hers as they passed each other, and she squashed the need to stop him and squeeze his hand. It had been a brutal day without a moment alone together, and no opportunity in sight for a long while. At least when separated in Mylena, they’d been able to connect in their dreams, but now even that option was lost to them.
It was yet another thing to get used to. She’d kind of assumed that coming back to the human world would feel like getting back to normal—finally—but instead, everything had been throwing her off. She hadn’t realized until now how much Mylena had become her new normal.
Greta’s parents offered to put everybody up for a night or two, and after seeing the children, the social worker agreed it was probably better than placing them into separate foster homes until their parents arrived.
And then all the outsiders were gone. It was close to midnight, and the boys dozed on their feet, waiting for the sleeping arrangements to be finalized.
Greta’s mother handed out sheets and blankets. “Are you sure about this?” she asked gently. “Your brother’s not here tonight, so we can use his room. The spare room has a queen size bed, and then there’s a couch in your father’s study. I’m sure we could find space for—”
Greta shook her head. She’d already agreed to share her old room with Siona, but splitting up nine nervous boys wasn’t going to work. “They don’t want to be separated just yet, so bunking down together in the basement is perfect for everyone. We’ve all gotten used to sleeping outside on the ground. Don’t worry that they won’t be comfortable.”
Her mother turned away, but not before Greta caught a glimpse of her pursed lips.
Damn it.
She took a chance and reached out to touch her shoulder lightly.
Her mother tensed and glanced back, eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“It’s okay,” Greta said. “I mean, I guess it’s probably not okay, but we survived. And we had each other. We managed.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, she nodded and straightened her shoulders. “All right,” she said. “Why don’t you take these blankets down to them and make sure they don’t need anything else?”
Greta took the blankets and turned to go, but the soft broken sound coming from her mom…hurt. It was so fragile, like glass cracking under the pressure. She’d forgotten such a sound could exist, such vulnerability could exist. There’d been no room for that kind of softness in Mylena.
But this wasn’t Mylena.
Her mom looked down at the floor. Greta put the blankets on the bed and went to her. The sheen in her eyes made Greta clamp down on her emotion, before she lost it, too.
“I’m here,” she said with a cough. “I’m safe.”
Her mother smiled, and it felt real. Like those were the exact words she’d needed to hear. “I know. Now go on. Make sure those boys are safe, too.”
She nodded and went downstairs. Most of the rest of the house had changed while she’d been gone. She remembered the kind of comfortable, worn, mismatched furniture that a young couple with two little kids and no money would have been handed down by parents and friends. While she was gone, the house had been transformed with chic, modern stuff that looked as if it had been pulled right from the pages of a magazine. But down in the basement, she felt a rush of nostalgia.
Against one wall, a big, heavy tube TV sat on a honey-colored wooden entertainment stand. It must have been relegated down there when her parents upgraded to the sleek flat screen that was mounted to the wall between the new custom-built bookshelves in the living room. The pull-out sofa used to be up there, too. She remembered sprawling out on it and watching Saturday morning cartoons.
So many things were coming back. It was like one of those illustrated flip-books with the pages turning faster and faster so the characters went from walking to running. She looked around for the remote control that went with the TV; a thick black clicker with a melted corner from the time she was eight and she’d carried it to the kitchen and left it on the counter too close to the toaster. She’d thought she could make her own breakfast and let mom and dad sleep in, but after putting her bagel in the machine, she’d gone back out to the living room and completely forgotten about everything except whatever show she was watching until the smoke alarm had gone off.
Dad had crashed down the stairs in his pajama pants with Drew already in his arms, ready to carry him right out the front door. Mom followed, calling Greta’s name in a high voice before she careened to a stop upon reaching the kitchen. Both halves of the charcoaled bagel had ended up in the trash, but the clicker still worked except for the one button near that corner—but she couldn’t recall what the button had been for, so it must not have mattered too much.
Wyatt stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Jacob was already asleep in his arms. Sloane came forward and took the pile of blankets from her, then started handing them out.
“Is everything okay?” Wyatt asked in a low voice.
She nodded and gave him a weak smile. “As much as it can be, after spending the last four hours lying to my parents.”
“You only lied about the things they would never have believed anyway. You told the truth about everything that mattered. If you’d mentioned Mylena and Agramon, the cops and that social worker would still be here.”
“I know,” she said. It didn’t make her feel any better, but she supposed she’d done worse things in the last four years than tell a few lies. She shrugged, because there was nothing to be done about it now. “Are you guys going to be okay down here?”
“Well, it’s not as chic as the Dug Out, but it will have to do,” he teased.
Greta’s gaze found Isaac.
He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. A few days ago, he would have been standing there all by himself, but he was becoming less and less apart from the group whether he meant for it to happen or not. Charlie stood beside him, mimicking the same pose, and although Niall hadn’t said a word to the goblin king the entire time Isaac had been with them, he had become Isaac’s mini shadow.
She turned back to Wyatt with a quick apology for her distraction, but he was already moving toward Siona, who was spreading one of the blankets on the ground. Together they laid Jacob on it, and then Wyatt put a hand on her arm. When she looked up at him with her heart in her eyes, Greta stifled a groan.
Oh God, that was developing fast. And it wasn’t destined to end well. Wyatt would leave for North Dakota once his parents were notified that he’d been found, and if all went well, Siona would be heading back to Mylena as soon as they could find a way…to a world that was likely going to get her killed.
A few minutes later, everyone was settled, and Greta was procrastinating. Down here where it was dark and the concrete
foundation made the air feel cool and damp, she could almost pretend they were still in Mylena, but it was time to go back upstairs to the world where she was just a teenager and her parents were waiting. She couldn’t decide what felt more alien: the part where they would kiss her cheek and tuck her into bed…or the fact that she would have a real bed to sleep in.
Isaac stopped her at the bottom of the stairs with a crooked smile. “I would wish you sweet dreams, but how can they be memorable if I won’t be in them?”
The weight in the pit of her stomach felt lighter, and she punched him in the arm. “I’ll have you know that I was capable of conjuring up perfectly good dreams all on my own before I met you.”
“Perhaps,” he admitted. His smile went from playful to absolutely devastating in a heartbeat. He leaned in until he filled up her entire vision, her whole sphere of consciousness, and made her stomach flip over and over until she was dizzy with him. “But remember that only I can make those dreams a reality.”
The door opened at the top of the stairs, and the shadow of her father filled the narrow space. “Greta?” he called down. “Is everything okay down there?”
Her cheeks heated and she beat her forehead against Isaac’s chest with a silent groan. “Yeah, I’m just saying good night,” she mumbled. “I’m coming right up.”
Her dad stepped back but left the door open, those protective father instincts kicking in even knowing that his daughter had learned to take care of herself. It was kind of sweet, and she was surprised by how much she needed to feel it.
Siona approached and took Greta’s hand with a supportive squeeze. The two of them went up together. She looked back once and saw Isaac hadn’t moved.
In her room, she started to pace. Police, counsellors, school. All of it was designed to get her back into the routine of this life, a life she might not even be staying for. “This isn’t going to work.” How do you know that? You haven’t even tried yet. “How are we supposed to find a portal back to Mylena if—”
Siona opened her mouth to comment, but she hesitated when someone knocked on the door.
“Yes? Please, come in,” Greta said, wincing at the distinctly formal tone of her voice. “We’re just getting ready for bed.”
Greta’s mother poked her head in and smiled, looking just as stiff and formal as Greta felt. “I put some extra towels in the bathroom,” she said.
They both said thank you, and her mother nodded and turned to go, but then she paused. “I have a feeling this is going to be a little awkward for a couple of days,” she said, twisting her hands together. There was still a lot of hurt and disillusionment in her voice. Hurt that Greta had caused.
She almost opened her mouth and spit out the whole truth right then and there. The fire, the witch, the portal, and the demon. All of it.
But would any of that really ease her mother’s pain? Assuming she could even believe Greta’s story, wouldn’t it only make matters worse? No mother wanted to hear that her child had feared for her life daily, that her only recourse for survival had been to pick up a sword at thirteen and learn how to use it with ruthless efficiency. The anguish in her mother’s face might be bad now, but it was nothing compared to the way her mother would look at her once she learned that Greta had become a killer.
Siona seemed to sense her struggle. She stepped forward and dropped into a deep curtsy. “Danem,” she said, and Greta practically groaned. Hopefully, they’d be able to explain these little variations in language and behavior as a foreign thing. “Your daughter has proven herself a most resourceful and independent creature. We who traveled with her are in her debt for our very lives. If she owes even a portion of her strength and bravery to your guidance and teachings, then you must feel only pride. No sadness.”
Greta did groan then. “Siona, stop. It’s getting weird.”
“Thank you.” Her mother took Siona’s hand. “Although we wish our little girl hadn’t needed to be so strong, it’s good to know that she was able to help others, and that everyone came home safely…eventually.”
If only that was the truth, but too many people had been left behind, like the children who’d died in Agramon’s fortress before she’d even known they existed. Not to mention she’d left an entire world to suffer under the bloody fist of Agramon, and she didn’t know how to get back to save them.
She cleared her throat and picked up the towel from the nightstand. “I had better get cleaned up,” she said, eager for the discussion to be over.
“I’ll come back in a minute or two and tuck you—” Her mother’s eyes widened with dismay as she realized what she was saying. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want me to… You’ve been gone a long time, and you’re not a little girl anymore. I had better try to remember that.”
Greta winced and bit her lip. “I wish it didn’t have to be so…uh, weird…I’m sorry.”
They both stood there for a long moment.
Finally, her mother said, “Good night…sweetheart.” She reached up to gently smooth a lock of hair that had slipped free of her braids back behind her ear.
Greta forced herself to stay very still.
Her mother tested the strands between her fingers, as if she was still trying to convince herself that Greta was real. When their gazes met, she started and dropped her hand abruptly. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”
Greta cleared her throat. “No, I think we’re fine.”
“All right, then. See you in the morning.” She started to close the door.
“Good night…Mom.”
Chapter Three
The next day was harder. Apparently, both Charlie’s parents and Leo’s parents lived really close. They’d arrived at the police station before the sun was up and demanded to see their children, so even before breakfast was being cleaned up—another thing that should be normal but had felt crazy weird because, well…food in the refrigerator that she didn’t have to hunt and skin and spit herself—the police officer had shown up with Ms. Davidson and the parents.
It was too soon.
She forced herself not to feel sad. Both sets of parents were obviously overwhelmed with relief and joy at the sight of their boys looking healthy and clean, if a little thin with shadows in their eyes and memories that might give them nightmares for a couple of years yet.
The only hiccup was when the first one had to leave. Charlie.
The boys had been through so much together and had relied on each other for so long. After his parents hugged him and cried over him, and then took his hand and headed for the door, everyone realized exactly what it meant. She didn’t think it had actually sunk in until that moment.
Chaos erupted.
Jacob started screaming, and Sloane tried his best to soothe him while Wyatt and Ray were forced to step in and physically hold back Niall and Carter.
With a ball in her throat that felt like lead and tasted like tears, Greta approached Charlie’s mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Dunlop. “Do you have a business card, or maybe could you write your contact information on a piece of paper for us?” she asked in a low voice, knowing it was a lot. She could see it in their eyes.
“I understand that you probably want nothing more than to get the hell out of here with your son and never look back, never have any reminders of this time in your lives.” She pointed to the boys. “But for a long time, all they’ve had is each other, and they’re not ready to give that up yet. They need to know they can reach out to one another if they need to.”
Charlie clutched Leo’s hand like one of them was hanging off a cliff and he didn’t know which one was about to fall. His mother blinked more tears from her eyes and looked from her husband’s grim expression to her son’s tear-stained face.
“Please.” Greta hoped this scene wasn’t going to repeat itself every time one of the boys had to walk through that door. By the end of it, she was going to be a sopping emotional mess, the very thing she’d been trying hard to avoid.
Mr. Dunlop finally
nodded. He pulled out his wallet and handed Greta a card. She squeezed it so hard it would be creased by the time they left. “Thank you.”
Leo’s parents wrote their contact information down on a scrap piece of paper for her, and so did Niall’s parents when they arrived that afternoon.
Carter’s mother came next. Ms. Lamont looked shell-shocked when she arrived at the door with a police officer at her side and collapsed in tears when she saw her son. Carter asked about his dad, but apparently, the husband had moved to California a month ago. He was on his way back and would be arriving late in the evening. Greta got the impression that Carter’s parents’ marriage had been a casualty of their inability to deal with their son’s disappearance.
Like she’d done with the others, Greta asked if Ms. Lamont would leave some contact information so the boys could stay in touch, but the woman was resistant. She indicated that she was waiting for her ex at a nearby motel, and if she changed her mind before morning, she would be in touch. Greta didn’t think she was going to change her mind.
After she left, Greta felt deflated. Greta’s dad offered Officer Fielding and Ms. Davidson a seat in the living room.
Officer Fielding gave her parents a kind smile. “Thank you for doing this today. You’ve been very kind to open your home. I think that it really has been much easier for everyone to be reunited in this environment instead of down at the noisy station.”
Jacob piped up. “My mommy and daddy are coming now, right?”
She ruffled his hair. “They’re a little farther away than the other parents, but I talked to your mommy on the phone, and she’s really excited to see you. She’s missed you very much, and she said she’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning. How does that sound?”
Jacob looked over his shoulder at Wyatt, then Greta. She smiled and nodded encouragingly, and he turned back with a shrug. “Okay, I guess.”
The police officer and Ms. Davidson exchanged matching looks. They had taken note of the boys’ strong bond and the way they all still looked to her or Wyatt first for guidance before doing whatever the adults had asked of them.