The Forest's Son

by Aleo, Cyndy

  After her near breakdown before their flight, he's been distant — until his shower offer, that is — and she thinks there’s a distinct possibility he’ll send her home on the next return flight. She doesn't know the language here or his history or anything of value. How can she do anything but be in the way?

  Stepping out of the shower, she dries everything but her legs, which she blots with toilet paper, leaving clumpy wads of wet paper spotted with blood on the counter. She sits on the toilet and puts her head in her hands, cursing herself for being such a complete idiot and klutz on top of everything else she’s not bringing to the table here.

  Unsure of the time, she'd grabbed pajamas rather than clothes from the bag he'd opened for her. She now finds herself stuck with nothing else to put on. Either she wears the pajamas out of the bathroom, even if it's morning, or she waltzes back into the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel, which would look like an invitation for sex, something she's not sure either of them wants.

  Pajamas it is.

  She gathers her things and walks back to the bedroom, only to find he's already heading to the shower on his own. He hurrying so quickly that he barely acknowledges her, so she walks to the room they’re apparently going to be sharing and stows her things.

  While she takes her turn waiting for him to come back from showering, she blots at her wet hair with the towel she put around her shoulders and tries to come up with something witty, or at least, not stupid, to say when he comes back.

  She's still mumbling things under her breath hoping to find the right one when he comes back wearing a tight white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweat pants. Gaping at the definition shown by the t-shirt, and the way the sweats hang from his hips, she blurts the first thing that pops into her head:

  “What time is it?”

  Very together, Donovan, she thinks. You definitely sound like you’re sophisticated and ready for whatever sex and violence may be coming your way.

  He laughs before he answers, “A bit after lunch time here. Are you hungry? There are things in the minibar, but I thought it might help with the jet lag if we take a short nap then try dinner and getting more acclimated tomorrow.”

  Nap. A nap would be good. She’s tired, and could definitely nap. Only —

  “Do we ‘50s sitcom the beds or leave them as they are?” she asks.

  He laughs again.

  “If it's okay with you, I'd feel safer if you're closer to me.”

  She nods awkwardly and pulls back the covers on the bed farther from the door, guessing he'll want to be closer to both the door and his mother if safety is a concern. She assumes he'll climb into the other bed, but he crawls over it instead, pulling back the other side of the covers, and squeezing into the too-small, twin-sized bed with her.

  “I don't expect anything,” he says. “I just need to hold you. I need to know that you're safe, or I don't think I'll be able to close my eyes at all, much less sleep.”

  She's glad her back is toward him so he can't see her smile. When he drapes his arm over hers, she laces her fingers with his and is soon asleep.

  27: Anticipate

  It's impossible for Grace to stay inside the castle when she's this close to home. Like Jakub, now that she's close enough, she can feel the pull of the forest, and it draws her outside after she hears the shower running and then the sounds of them getting into bed. She can always claim she wanted to give them privacy, but it's easy to slip out when they are so wrapped up in each other.

  In next to no time, she is across the castle grounds and on the very edge of the forest. She can see the destruction wrought in her absence; the trees are smaller and let more light into the forest than they did when she lived here last.

  She listens carefully, but even the language of the trees is different now. They do not speak to her at all, but they carry messages for her sisters. If she tries hard enough, she can hear some of them, but she doesn't listen long. It only makes her feel more lonely.

  Being back isn't the homecoming she thought it would be. Each time she has imagined this, it has always been a moment of great joy followed by her death. It's why she has always been so at peace with the idea of dying here; the relief she thought she would feel at being back where she belonged would make up for it. She has always known she cannot stay, but even having a moment or two of bliss, of finally being home, would make all her sacrifice worth it.

  She finds, however, that she is in limbo: caught between. She belongs nowhere. Not in this place with the too-thin forest made of trees that do not recognize her or speak to her. And not back where she has just come from, in the boxed house with the tiny greenhouse and the small forest and the angelskie name while she watched her son slowly killing himself so she could keep him hidden.

  She has no place at all.

  Still, there is a place in the center of the forest that’s calling to her. The trees may not speak to her, and she may not recognize them by sight, but her soul could find her home there, even all these years later. Closing her eyes, she takes a few steps forward.

  What if she walks into the forest right now? What if she goes in alone, without Jakub? Without Donovan? If she offers herself willingly to accept the fate she should have accepted all those years ago, will they still hunt him? Or could she save him?

  She shakes her head at her ridiculous thoughts. Of course they would still hunt him. The sisters are probably no longer concerned with her, other than as a token gesture to show the younger ones what shouldn't ever be done. Jakub will always be the focus, his power something to be feared. She can sacrifice herself time and time again, and it will always be the same unless she can change their perception of what he is.

  A few more steps take her beyond the tree line. Her sisters will never listen to her, never see Jakub for what he is: so much more, and at the same time, so much less than the legends had told them. They may, however, listen to the trees. It takes so much concentration for her to do this; it has been so long since she has done anything more than listen. She begs the trees to ask the sisters to listen to her, to open their minds to something other.

  Opening her own mind, she tries to give the trees all that her son is, all that she thinks he will become, all that he may mean to the sisters. If she doesn't belong anywhere, he belongs everywhere, both here as well as with the humans. He could bridge the gap that has existed between the two worlds for so long. They just need to give him time, and a chance.

  ~

  Bożena steals away from her sisters as they bicker, waiting for a final command to head into the human world to hunt Grażyna and her son.

  She’s tired of listening to them.

  It’s only once she’s away from the heated whispers of their squabbling that she hears the message in the trees. Grażyna is obviously out of practice; it sounds like one of the children learning to speak through Matka, the language stilted and babyish.

  It’s only by listening hard and repeating what she hears aloud that Bożena understands what the message is trying to say: I am sorry. But I was not wrong. He is peaceful. He is kind. He has no wish to rule.

  Bożena sighs. She won’t relay the message to any sisters who don’t hear it for themselves. She’ll wait until they tell her they’ve heard it, wait until they tell her what they think of Grażyna’s attempts to explain to them. There’s no point in telling them that she believes Grażyna, that if the boy child was so intent on causing them harm, he’d probably have done so long ago while he was still in the human world.

  She can’t ignore that they came here, however. Why bother returning if it wasn’t to assert his power? They all felt it when he arrived; there’s no denying that whatever he is, it’s more than they are, more than they ever want to deal with.

  But Bożena is so tired. She doesn’t dare meet with Tadeusz while Grażyna and her son are about, doesn’t dare leave her sisters in the forest. She’ll have to get a message to him, tell him something’s come up, that she’s out of town, that she’s ill.

&n
bsp; It’s doubtful that he’ll ask questions, so she doesn’t have to worry about explaining that her wayward sister has returned after two centuries with the son she was supposed to kill. She should be glad he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t ask for more information than she’s willing — or able — to share.

  But sometimes…

  Sometimes she wishes that he would demand answers. Would ask her why he can’t ever pick her up where she lives. Why she owns so few outfits. Why she never speaks of a job or what she does all day.

  Sometimes she wishes she could have more than her sisters in the woods, bickering over decisions that may have been fated since before their creation.

  Sometimes she wants everything to be different.

  28: Neglect

  Jakub wakes before Donovan, and his first instinct is to stay right where he is. He's on his back, and she’s curled around him, her head on his chest with just the tiniest amount of drool having slipped from her mouth to dampen his t-shirt. One of her hands has crept up to rest against his neck, and her fingers are curled in his hair. Her thigh is draped over him as well, and when she shifts, it leaves him uncomfortably hard.

  He stifles a groan.

  How long has he been shoving this need for her down? How could erasing even his memory eliminate this all-encompassing desire? He wants nothing more than to forget the forest and the Dziwozony and where they are. If things were different, he’d wake her with his hands and his mouth and lose himself in her. He’s waited for so long.

  But there’s a sane part of him that needs to keep her safe more than he needs make her his, and that part registers that the hotel suite is completely silent. If his mother were here, even asleep, he'd hear her breathing, at the very least.

  He's torn between sinking into the warmth of Donovan or searching for his mother. Donovan, at least, is safe here, asleep in the bed. His mother may already be in danger, as close to the forest as the hotel is.

  It tears at him to leave her, but he places a soft kiss on Donovan’s hair as he slides himself free of her warm embrace. He pulls clothes on and watches her clutch at the empty spot in the bed where he'd just been in her arms. Jakub takes the seconds to grab a pillow and place it in the bed where she’s reaching for him, a pale substitute, but at least her arms aren't empty when he leaves the alcove where their beds are.

  It takes no more than a minute to see he was right; his mother is nowhere in the suite. He leaves a quick note on the desk for Donovan before he races out of the room, hoping his mother hasn't done something completely idiotic like going into the forest herself to confront her sisters on his behalf.

  Once outside the castle, it's as easy as opening his mind to find her; the trees are already carrying her message. He crosses the grounds, following what’s probably her exact path, and he comes up behind her. She’s just inside the edges of the forest, her eyes closed and her face turned up to the tops of the trees. He can feel her effort and knows exactly what she's trying to do for him.

  “It's not necessary, you know,” he says. “I can do it myself.”

  She’s so intent on what she'd been doing that she hasn't heard him come up behind her. Grace startles when he speaks.

  “Where's Donovan?” she asks, obviously stalling him to keep him from asking questions she doesn’t want to answer.

  “Still asleep back in the room. Why did you come out here by yourself?”

  She keeps her back to him when she answers.

  “I couldn't stay inside anymore. I felt like I was in prison. The forest was so close. I needed to be out here, to see it for myself. I’ve missed it so much.”

  Jakub hums in response. He feels the pull of the forest for himself, and imagines it's exactly the same for her. The trees have begun to murmur the message she's asked them to bring to her sisters, and he adds his own. He wants the sisters to know that he's coming. That he means no harm, but that he will defend his mother. That he wants her safe.

  He tries to keep Donovan out of his thoughts, to keep her presence here a secret, but he's fairly certain it will do him no good. She invades every cell of his being; how will they not know? As much as he loves his mother and wants her safe, he knows Donovan is his weakest point. What his mother doesn’t understand is that Donovan is also his strength.

  “Do you want to stay here?” he asks his mother. “If they would allow you, would you stay?”

  She wraps her arms around herself, looking smaller somehow. He wants to offer her some type of comfort, but he isn't sure what she would accept from him.

  “I no longer belong here,” she says. “I am without a home. I thought I was out of place where we were because I belonged here, but I am no more at home here than I was there.

  “These are no longer my trees, and this is no longer my forest.”

  He reaches for her and turns her so she’s facing him.

  “You will always have a home with me. Where I am, you are home,” he says.

  She shakes her head. “You, my Jakub — you are the one who belongs everywhere. If I did nothing else right, it is that. If we get through this, you can live here, or you can return and live there. You can bridge the worlds. But I no longer have a place. I know my fate. I have known it since the moment I ran with you.”

  The desire to shake her is nearly overwhelming. She’s given up before they’ve even begun. If she won't fight for her own life, how can he help her?

  “You need to stop thinking that way. You need to fight. I can't help you if you refuse to help yourself.”

  She smiles at him.

  “You'll hardly miss me, Jakub. You'll see. I am resigned. I will fight for you, and for Donovan, but I know how this plays out. The pull is no longer here for me. The forest no longer speaks to me in the same way. I am here for one reason, and that is hopefully to see you through to the other side of this, whatever that may be.”

  It's not the same as fighting for her own life, and they both know it. Frustrated, he looks away from her again, toward the forest. His ears and his mind are closed now. He doesn't want to hear anything: not his mother's thoughts, not the trees, not even Donovan right now. His mother refuses to bend to his will on this, and he can’t imagine going forward without her guidance.

  29: Taken

  It's the slamming of the door that wakes her. Whoever is coming into the suite is angry, and Donovan guesses it must be Jakub. She knows instantly that he's not here with her in the bed, and if he's not with her, he has to be with his mother.

  It must be strange for Grace to be back here, so close to being returned to where she's from, yet so far from actually being there. The threat of being killed by her own sisters isn't the kind of homecoming anyone would want.

  “Jakub?” she calls.

  He doesn't answer, which isn't a good sign. If he's so angry after whatever’s happened with his mother that he won't speak to her, she's not sure what she can say to make it any better. Mostly, she's wondering if they have any kind of a plan. What are they going to do? How do they think they’ll confront the sisters?

  She combs her fingers through her hair, hoping she isn't too much of a mess. Her pajamas are wrinkled, and she spots a damp patch on her arm just as she reaches the doorway. Shoving the sleeve up to her elbow to hide it, she's too distracted to notice it's not Jakub — or even his mother — who’s entered the room at all. She gasps when someone grabs her arm roughly.

  “Where is he?”

  Donovan looks up to see three very tall women in the room, none of them looking like Grace, though they’re at least as tall as she is.

  Oh, god. Dziwozony. Here.

  “I — I don't know,” she stammers.

  “You lie,” says the one holding her arm. “Where is he? And where is his witch of a mother?”

  “I don't know,” Donovan says again. “I woke up and they were both gone. I haven't seen them since I went to sleep.”

  Donovan hopes Jakub and Grace don't come back now, wherever they've gone. They'll be ambushed if they do. T
hink, Donovan, think. What can you do to get these crazy women out of here before they come back? She looks around the room and sees the paper sitting on the desk, Jakub's scrawl prominent.

  A note. He left her a note.

  “I think — I think he left me a note?”

  She points to the paper.

  One of the women grabs it and scans the paper. “The human tells the truth,” she says. “Grażyna was missing when he woke, and he left the castle to find her. The fool left the human unprotected.”

  The woman holding Donovan laughs. “It's almost a shame this will be so easy. Here Edyta promised this was going to be difficult, but it's as easy as walking in and walking out again. They won't enter the forest on their own, but this way we can get them to come in with no effort at all.”

  Donovan closes her eyes. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Every time Jakub and his mother had talked about the Dziwozony, they’d assumed they’d have to lure them out of the forest and into the open. They wanted to avoid having to go in after them.

  They’d assumed the sisters would be reluctant to go anywhere near humans, and would never enter the castle of their own volition. Yet here they are. They apparently have no problem at all going near humans, and as it turns out, Donovan is the perfect one to take in order to get Jakub and Grace to come to them.

  They don't even let her put shoes on. Donovan is yanked along the hall and has to jog in order to keep from being dragged along the floor. It doesn't take long for her to realize they’ve probably been preparing for this all along; they know their way through the castle, following hallways and moving through doorways without running into a single person.

  They've known, she thinks. They knew we would come and what we would do. They’re ten steps ahead of anything Grace and Jakub might have planned.

  Then they’re outside and the ground is cold and hard under her bare feet. The castle grounds are beautiful, but it isn't as if they’re manicured like a golf course would be. Small stones cut her feet as they make their way to the edge of the forest, and she's sure it will only get worse once they move past the tree line.