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Alterni Page 10

by Sunshine Somerville


  Oliver’s eyes lit with surprise. “Yes, indeed. Elaine, defender of the elven home world. My people have many ancient stories about our heroes, but Elaine was always my favorite as a boy.”

  Esme smiled. “So far in my reading, she’s one of my favorite alterni too.”

  “Pleased to hear it! Of course, I’m partial to the Gabris, Llyr, and Dal alterni elves as well.”

  She didn’t know these names. “I haven’t read that far yet.”

  “Ah, then I’ll hold back spoilers.” Oliver smiled and patted her hand. “I hope we can talk longer another time, but I only came to meet you quickly before hopping on a plane.”

  “Oh? Where to?”

  “New York. One of my leprechaun clients got into a bit of legal trouble, so off to court I go.” He released her hand. “It was a pleasure. Until our paths cross again.” After another short bow, he smiled and walked to the exit.

  Esme chuckled to herself and looked around the room.

  Goblin bankers. A troll named Marybeth who owns a restaurant. A fairy who wants to conquer Hollywood. Now a lawyer elf from the Big Apple. Could this get any weirder?

  But as Esme watched the groups conversing at their tables, she realized that this was what passed for normal in this world. And it did seem to work. They each had jobs and functions and their own place in the Order. Occasional racist comments aside, they got along on friendly terms. Here in this room were the descendents of at least half a dozen different alt-worlds, herself included.

  I have to figure out my place too. There’s so much to learn! I see what Owen meant about a paranormal melting pot. They’re used to it. It’s only us alterni that are outsiders anymore.

  A loud goblin laugh distracted Esme from her thoughts, and she saw a little man with a cigar in his mouth motioning at Owen.

  “You want funds for what?” another goblin asked the king.

  “Come on, Gil,” said Owen, his fingers covered in sauce. “You know the pureblood werewolves can’t stay in urban areas during a full moon. They just want a place they can safely roam one time a month. Building a ranch on our land in Texas isn’t going to hurt anything.”

  “Aye,” said a goblin across the table, “just like the special schools for trolls don’t hurt anything? Do you have any idea how expensive school desks are? And keeping the cafeterias stocked nearly drives us bankrupt every month!”

  “The kids can’t help their growth spurts. If they eat a lot of food and accidentally break a few desks, it’s worth the expense. You want those kids to expose themselves to the ridicule they’d suffer in normal schools?”

  The goblins grumbled and lowered the volume of their discussion.

  Esme smiled as she watched Owen continue to convince them of his points.

  He’s a good king. How weird is it that I’m a little turned on because he cares about troll children?

  Out of nowhere, a beer bottle appeared in front of her face. She moved her head back in surprise and looked down the arm holding the beer.

  The arm belonged to a very tall man standing beside her. He was young, somewhere in his late twenties, with a fit physique. He dressed like a lumberjack – a very clean, wealthy lumberjack. His hair was dark blonde and curly, and his beard was neat and trimmed. His eyes shone emerald green, and she didn’t think he’d blinked yet as he looked down at her with a smile. He smelled like the woods, a hint of pine wafting from his chest where he’d left the top button undone.

  Esme smirked to herself, and a “ding” sound of approval went off in her head.

  I’d scout this guy. But I know that smile. No luck here, dude. You’re definitely the tall type I’ve learned to avoid.

  “Hi.” The man lifted the beer again. “You looked like you could use one of these.”

  “I could use five, but thanks.” She took the bottle, mostly to give her hands something to do.

  What is this guy? He’s too well-groomed to be a werewolf. Jinn? Is that a Cajun accent?

  “And you are?”

  “Joe.” He reached out with his own beer and clinked her bottle, then leaned back against the end of the bar and grinned at her like they were in on a joke. “How you handling the circus so far?”

  “I’m fine. Everyone’s been great.” Esme noticed Marybeth sitting at a table, staring at her with an unsettling expression. “Well, I’m not sure our host likes me.”

  Joe swallowed a swig, looked to see Marybeth, and chuckled. He leaned in close as he spoke, his piney scent filling her nostrils. “Don’t worry about the old girl. That’s just her resting troll face.”

  Esme smiled at this but stopped herself from laughing.

  “I like this.” Joe took the liberty of touching a lock of her hair. “Haven’t seen it on one of you before.”

  Her smile faded.

  Oh, no. Please tell me none of my alterni have fallen for this guy. My opinion of me would sink.

  She tried to remain polite. “So I’m not your first alt-Esme?”

  “Hmm.” Joe looked across the room, biting his lip to hide a guilty smile. “Let’s just say fairy Esme and I were well acquainted.”

  This information was a shock for a few reasons. “Wait, what? One of my alterni was a fairy?”

  “Yes. Esme Six the Sparkly.” He smiled. “That’s what she let me call her.”

  Esme gaped and tried to remember everything she’d heard and read.

  Well, several alterni over the centuries have been from paranormal worlds. That’s not surprising – they’re powerful purebreds since they came directly from the alt-worlds. But some of my alterni were paranormals? Why didn’t anyone bother to mention this? When I first asked Roman, he brushed it off, so I thought that meant…

  “Were any of my other alterni paranormals?”

  “Not sure. But my Esme said she wasn’t the only paranormal at her summono.”

  Esme ran through the few versions she’d met. “I wonder if any at my summono were.”

  “Hmm. Was there a freakishly pale alterni? Like an albino that was creepy thin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That was one. Vampire. They give me the creeps.” Joe made an overdramatic shiver. “Esme Six said the vampire Esme was at her summono too. Weird that the Master Conjuri would summono that Esme in two different castings if they didn’t wanna pick her.”

  Esme blinked, speechless.

  How weird! Why didn’t anyone tell me I have paranormal alterni? I had to hear it from this sleazeball!

  She glanced at Owen where he sat with the goblins.

  Well, Hakim didn’t bother to tell me he has paranormal blood. Owen is pretty blasé about this too. So are Roman and Ada. They probably haven’t told me because they don’t think anything of it. Really, I should’ve guessed-

  Joe touched her arm, trailing a finger along her bare shoulder. “If you want, we can drive out to my cabin and I’ll tell you more about the Esme I knew.”

  Esme looked at Joe, his face close to hers. There was something about him she couldn’t figure out. That woodsy scent… His emerald eyes… His seductive voice…

  A sick feeling of vertigo washed over Esme’s body, like gravity was suddenly all wrong. She tottered and leaned into Joe. After a shake of her head to regain her composure, the sensation faded enough to stand straight again.

  “Whoa, there!” called Owen.

  Esme snapped back to her surroundings and saw Owen hurrying over. At the sight of the king, Joe pulled away from Esme and stood tall. Esme looked from him to Owen in confusion.

  “Time to go, Esme.” Owen gave the taller man a fake smile. “Good to see you. Stay out of trouble.” He took the beer from Esme, returned it to Joe, and put a hand on Esme’s back to usher her away. “Shall we?”

  They hurried to the restaurant’s front door, and Esme made a quick wave to Marybeth and the table of trolls. Owen led her through the exit, then paused once outside on the dark sidewalk. Esme continued to the curb and took a breath of the humidity and dirty city, but even that was bett
er than the smell of Joe stuck in her nose. When she turned, she found Owen standing with his back to the restaurant, his arms crossed, a look of annoyance on his face.

  “What was that guy?” she asked.

  “Well, for starters, he’s a nymph.”

  “Uh…” Esme made a face. “Which definition does this world use? Back home, ‘nymph’ usually applies to a woman, but it can mean either a mythological, nature-based deity or a sex-crazed-”

  “It means both things here too.”

  “And Joe is…”

  “Mixed blood option A. Full-blown option B.”

  “Oh.” Esme had to laugh. “Well, you needn’t have worried. Part sex god or no, he was too tall for me.”

  Owen smirked. “Yeah, Hakim might’ve mentioned something about that in your file.”

  The king started the walk back to where they’d parked. Esme, in her own thoughts, looked around at the pedestrians strolling along the sidewalks. She saw groups of laughing teens, couples walking hand in hand, and an occasional loner dressed for work somewhere in this hip part of town. None of these were in the Order, as far as Esme could tell.

  With a side glance, Esme watched her walking companion. Owen once again appeared to be in his own thoughts, but Esme wondered if he was in a sharing mood.

  He’s supposed to be my partner. I think we’re friends. He’s got a lot of baggage where I’m concerned, sure, but I know he’s trying. Will he tell me the truth? So often, I get the feeling that they’re not telling me…something. Have I stumbled upon what that is?

  She forced herself to ask, “Joe told me the sixth Esme was a fairy. Is that true?”

  Owen glanced at her but kept walking. “Yes. Sorry we didn’t tell you. The seventh Esme totally freaked out about it. We thought it might be best not to tell you.”

  She sighed. “Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder… Anything else you’re not telling me?”

  “As I’ve said, if there’s anything you want to know about your alterni, just ask.”

  Esme frowned.

  That doesn’t answer my question.

  She glanced at Owen, but he kept his eyes on the sidewalk. A bad feeling crept in, and she realized there was more to why they hadn’t told her.

  They don’t expect me to live. Why bother teaching me about the paranormals? I’m not here to be a citizen – I’m here to be the king’s alterni and save everyone from malevolenci. To the Order, that’s the point of my existence, so nothing else is important. They don’t think it matters for me to know that my alterni were paranormals. They want me focused on training… I bet the Order has a well-practiced list of what’s necessary to get us alterni up and running. Learning how to fit into this world isn’t a part of that equation, since most of us die so soon.

  Esme frowned at the pavement.

  Maybe once I pass my Order trial they’ll treat me like I belong. I am going to live, thank you very much!

  She glanced at the king again.

  At least Owen’s trying to treat me like a real person. He brought me to meet the paranormals, didn’t he? He didn’t have to do that… Although, he might’ve just brought me because he’s sick of my unending questions. Ha! Be careful what you ask for – now I know at least one version of myself slept with a nymph!

  Esme chuckled to herself and shook off her pouting. As they walked under hanging lights, she asked, “So Marybeth’s barbecue is pretty good, huh?”

  “It’s amazing. Anyone who tells you trolls can’t cook is a racist fool. Make sure Thaddeus takes you there sometime. Or I could bring you if I have time this week.”

  Esme sighed.

  I really want my own car.

  She looked at Owen as they turned a corner. “Did the goblins give you the funds to build that werewolf ranch?”

  He smiled. “Yep. It took some convincing, but I always get my way in the end. Perk of being the king!”

  She laughed. As they walked toward his car, she continued to look around the city that felt so similar to her childhood home, but was so different.

  It was late. Hakim was tired and full from the Chinese takeout Owen had brought to their meeting. They’d covered dozens of cavali reports already, but Hakim leaned over his desk and tapped a pad to bring up a new email. Then he checked the screen of his computer. Then he flipped a few pages on a notepad.

  “Well?” Owen stood looking out the window at the night sky, his hands in his pockets.

  Hakim confirmed the numbers and sat back in his chair. “Three rifts have opened around Kansas City since Esme’s summono. That brings our total to thirty-three.”

  Owen turned from the dark window and stepped forward, leaning on the opposite side of Hakim’s desk. He let out a heavy sigh. “Esme hasn’t sensed any of them opening. That’s not good. Every alterni’s been able to-”

  “Small rifts only cause slight vertigo, right? All the new rifts have been small. Only spindlox came through. So it’s possible the new rifts didn’t cause enough pull to alert Esme. It might not be strong enough for her to realize what she’s sensing.”

  “But thirty-three rifts sit open around this city while we wait for her to be ready?”

  Hakim frowned. “Yes.”

  “What about the rest of the U.S.? Canada? Mexico?”

  “Five more around the country. Two in Canada. One in Mexico.”

  “And Europe?”

  “Still four. They’re old and well guarded. Nothing new there since the last alterni closed the rift in Germany.”

  “Asia?”

  “Three. Again, all old with cavali posted to guard them.”

  “Africa?”

  “Two.”

  “South America?”

  “Two.” Hakim remembered the newest email. “Three. Loukas reported one opened in Chile last night. But only a single felicox came out. They have it under control.”

  Owen blew out his lips and sat in the chair behind him. With another heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. “We need Esme.”

  “Ada thinks she’ll be ready to cast soon. Roman says she’s learning quickly, maybe faster than any alterni before her. She’s only been with them two weeks, Owen. Have some patience.”

  Owen paused, then nodded.

  Hakim tapped a pen on his desk and sighed. “I know I sound like a broken record, but we need to have faith in Esme. She has a crazy smart brain – which I wish she’d bothered to tell me, but no hurt feelings – so that works in our favor. She’s almost there.”

  “I know. I’ve talked to Roman and Ada too.” Owen paused and picked at something on his jeans. “It’s getting harder and harder to not tell Esme how bad things are. I feel like I’m lying to her.”

  “Are you changing your mind about telling her everything?”

  Owen hesitated. “Not yet. If the legends are wrong and her magic isn’t as powerful as we think it’ll be…”

  “She’ll feel hopeless.” Hakim frowned in agreement. With another thought, he had to smile. “It’s funny how quickly this one’s won me over. I like her.”

  Owen nodded, his eyes still on his jeans. “Me too.”

  Hakim was surprised by this admission, but he let it go for now. He looked at the clock and stood from his desk. “Sorry, but I need to get home. It’s way past my bedtime.”

  Owen grinned up at him. “You’re part jinn. Can’t you just curl up in a lamp here in your office?”

  “Nope. Too cramped.” Hakim smoothed his tie and grinned at his friend.

  Owen shook his head with a smirk and rose from the chair, then headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, if the world’s still standing.”

  “Right. Sweet dreams.”

  Hakim watched the king leave, then looked at his desk. Owen had left his takeout carton sitting on the far side of the desk, and soy sauce had splashed onto one of Hakim’s folders. He sighed and moved to clean up before he called it a night.

  Such a slob, thought Hakim. I really need to find that man a woman. Taking care of
Owen isn’t a job I can keep up alone.

  Esme was glad they’d given up on combat training, but she’d agreed with Owen’s suggestion that she exercise on the Capiti treadmills. After hours of sitting in the library, it was a good way to burn off energy.

  Two times in as many weeks, she’d been on a treadmill when cavali ran into the exercise room. They’d reported a stray malevolenci or new rift sighting, and men scrambled out of the gym to go monster hunting. Esme had asked if there was anything she should do, but the cavali either ignored her or ordered her to stay put.

  Angry now, she increased her speed on the treadmill.

  Can they give me orders? What’s my ranking here? Obvs I answer to the king and Roman, but… Oh, well. I’m still the newbie, whatever my rank.

  As she continued to run, she thought about everything she’d studied so far. The Chronicles of Kings were fascinating, and by now she had a few volumes memorized. At first it read like an epic fantasy, but along the way bits and pieces had sounded familiar from things Hakim and Owen had told her. She had her favorite kings and alterni, and she thought she’d learned from them what to do if she encountered similar species of malevolenci.

  Testing her memory, she tried to picture certain passages.

  King Eglid’s third Devon alterni was a beloved hero amongst our people. Attuned to opening rifts, he miraculously led the king to rifts before any malevolenci appeared. Devon’s way of battle was simple but powerful. Standing before an opening rift, he held his ground and cast hand spells against whatever demon tried to invade. King Eglid matched his bravery and stood at an angle, his bow and arrow poised and ready. King and alterni were so swift and deadly that no malevolenci crossed the rifts during this Devon’s life. The demons fell dead in their own world, and Devon cast the termino to seal their fate.

  Esme frowned.

  Yeah. But that Devon was a partier and drank himself to death. Eglid went through a record of thirty-one partners. Doesn’t sound like he lived a happy life. The guilt of losing that many alterni drove him to suicide. A dramatic suicide too – throwing himself off a cliff!

  She pictured another passage, this one fueling more optimism.

 

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