Lost Girl

by Mary E. Twomey

  I shrugged, laying down on the clean sheet and letting Lane tuck me in. I knew she missed me being little, so I indulged her every now and then. “We’re in a whorehouse, Drape. I’ll let you get creative with it.”

  He laughed, nodding as the wheels began turning. “Oh, this’ll be fun. You just rest. I’ll take care of the big brother stuff. Bastien will wish he never broke your heart.”

  “Thanks, dude.” I held out my fist for a bump, but I could tell he had no idea what to do with the salute. I tugged his fist to mine, knocking our knuckles together. “Like that. It’s called a fist bump. It means we’re on the same team, and we’re both awesome.”

  “I like it.” He held up the flannel with an evil grin. “Don’t hug him after he gets it back.” His gaze sharpened. “And with how fast he ran out of here? Maybe don’t hug him for a while, or ever again.”

  “I have a good feeling about you, Draper. An even better one if you turn out the lamp and let me get a good six hours of shuteye.” I tried to be casual to shake off the pain of Bastien running out on me.

  Instead of making a quick exit, Draper sat down on the edge of the bed and fished for my hand. He played with my fingers as he debated something in his head. “I can’t imagine you’d remember the song I used to sing you.”

  My face fell into a frown. “I wish. Could you sing it for me? Maybe it’ll jog something loose.”

  I didn’t think Draper would do it, but after a few quiet beats, his low voice caressed my ears. “Climb all the mountains, run off when you’re grown, but for now, little girl, my song is your home.”

  I tried not to get too emotional, but it was hard not to. “That was my bedtime song?”

  “I made it up myself for you.”

  I pursed my lips, wishing so many things in my life could be different. “I think I would’ve liked to hear that every night for five or ten years. It’s pretty. I like when you sing.”

  He indulged me in the simple lullaby again, and then kissed my knuckles before he stood. “Come on, Lane. Let’s go catch up in one of the other rooms. Tell me what I missed in the last twenty-one years.”

  “Only the last twenty-one? Well, that shouldn’t take too long.”

  The two left with armloads of dirty dishes, disgusting sheets and clothes, encasing me in total darkness so I could be alone with my regret.

  6

  Damond’s Desperate Deeds

  “You did not,” Damond chuckled, his spoon of porridge raised to his mouth.

  “We did so. Never looked back, either. See how he liked walking around in a corset.” Lane was in full swing with Draper, reliving the good old days. I’d contented myself with my porridge at the breakfast table. I knew I needed to eat, but my appetite waned when I pictured Bastien walking back in through the door. We were all sitting or standing around in Draper’s bedroom, all of us but Bastien, eating porridge and apples while trading war tales and play stories.

  Abraham Lincoln sat in my lap, while Hamish went from person to person, inspecting their pockets for nuts he suspected we were hiding from him. “I want to go outside and play,” Abraham Lincoln said to me, his schnozzle rubbing up under my chin. “Come play with me.”

  “Go ask Bayard or Rousseau to take you out, baby. I’m not finished with my breakfast.”

  “No!” Abraham Lincoln was scared, wrapping his arm over my shoulder to hold me closer. “I don’t like them. They killed the fat one. And the juicy one. And the ripe one.”

  “Huh? They eat people food, just like me. Actually, more like you. You eat plump and juicy things, too.”

  “But they didn’t eat. They killed and laughed. I didn’t like it.”

  The others were joking and chatting animatedly, glad to have the mission on hold until my leg healed. I felt bad bringing a serious note to the conversation. “Bayard? Abraham Lincoln’s trying to tell me something, but it doesn’t make much sense. He said you killed and laughed? What’s he talking about?”

  Bayard set his porridge down, his smile falling to a tight sneer directed at my bear. “Your bear’s a dirty snitch. Fine. Rousseau and I went out last night on an innocent little stroll around town. You know, to see the sights. We happened to run into Damond’s pal Norris, and things got heated. He said he wanted to keep messing up kids, and I said I didn’t think that was such a good idea. So I killed him.” Bayard put the cap on the sentence with a horrible matter-of-fact that sent a chill through me.

  Rousseau got riled up, bursting into the conversation with a loud, “That’s a bold-faced lie! No one ever gives credit to the one who holds down the pig who needs gutting. I killed him just as much as you did!”

  “Hey!” I clapped my hands twice. “Besides the fact that we’re traveling incognito, did you ever think of just calling the cops on him? Making him pay his debt to society? Why is your first reaction to kill?”

  “Cops? You mean the judge?” Bayard resumed his grin and picked up his bowl again to eat. “You’re funny. I thought you were serious for a minute there.”

  “I am serious. You can’t murder everyone who’s terrible.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly what I had to do. What a sweet world Common must be. Maybe you didn’t catch that Norris was making Damond do… How do I put this delicately? Sexual favors to pass down the street to see his brother.”

  “What was your indelicate way of saying that?” I blanched, turning toward Damond, who hung his head in shame. I’d gotten that vibe from Damond’s brief exchange with Norris, but to have it confirmed felt like a punch in the gut.

  Lot glowered at Bayard. “Yes, what exactly was the indelicate way of saying that? There are ladies present, Bayard. A maiden, in fact.”

  Draper’s teeth ground together. “Damond, is that true?”

  Damond looked at his porridge as if it was a bowl of worms – fascinating but unappetizing. “It’s none of your business how I get through the village. When I found out that was what I had to do to see you, I learned to bring enough silver instead.” He scowled at Bayard. “Thanks for spilling that to everyone.”

  Draper looked down, steadying himself while he started and stopped a sentence several times. Lane put her hand on Draper’s and looked Damond in the eye. “It’s done then. Good for you, Bayard. Let the bastard burn.” She turned toward my intake of breath at her swift judgment (that I actually pretty much agreed with), and said to me, “Baby, it’s a different world here. Especially in a place like this. The Lost Village is where people come to avoid the law. There’s so much dirty money in here, rulers who can actually do something don’t bother with the place.”

  Draper was livid. “Yeah? Well, I bother with it. Why didn’t you tell me, Damond? I would’ve taken care of it for you.”

  Damond’s wide lips were gathered in the center, pursed as he wrestled with his desire for privacy and also the need to speak. “I know what you would’ve done. You would’ve told me to go on home. That it was too dangerous for me. That no prince of Province 2 should be caught dead in a place like this. You’d send me away.” Damond blinked several times. “But you’re my brother. Without you, I have no one.”

  Draper stood from the floor where he sat with Lane, Abraham Lincoln and me, and pulled Damond up. “You’re going to go into the other room with me and write down the name of everyone who harassed you. Then I’ll take care of it. You should know you can lean on me when you’re scared.” Draper was taller than Damond, so he kissed the top of his head, grimacing as he wiped the too much product off his lips.

  Rousseau spoke up before they left the room. “You don’t need to write down Gerta’s name or Hank’s. Or Giacomo.” With his hairy thumb, he mimed slitting his own throat.

  Bayard didn’t look up from his porridge when he spoke. “Saw another Untouchable, but not ours. Didn’t know Link the Terrifying frequented these parts.”

  Draper quirked an interested eyebrow. “An Untouchable, eh? Not bad for business.”

  “Hank never harassed me,” Damond protested, confused. />
  Bayard shrugged. “They tried to mess with Remy.” Bayard stabbed his fist to his chest, mimicking the punch of a knife. “Our healer was just trying to buy some herbs at a reasonable price.” He reached down to where Remy was seated and slapped him on the back in camaraderie.

  Remy cast me a what-can-you-do? kind of look. “I really did get taken down by two men after buying some herbs to replenish my medicine bag. They must’ve seen my silver and followed me. The whole thing seemed rather rehearsed.”

  “You poor thing! Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

  “Only my pride. Truthfully, it’s been a while since I drew my sword. I was grateful Bayard and Rousseau were there. Some knight I would’ve been,” he muttered dejectedly.

  “Scouring the Lost Village to find medicine for the princess? A brave knight if I ever saw one,” I said kindly to Remy, who managed a smile for me.

  Lane’s arms were around Damond, kissing his hair and making a fuss over all he’d been through. “Draper, we leave in a few days. See what else you’ve been missing, and tie up any loose ends. And get this poor boy some pie. Growing boys need pie!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Draper said, ducking his head and exchanging a sheepish smile with his brother. I could tell Damond had also been starved for motherly affection. Any regular teen would’ve pulled away after a second or two of a hug from their mother, but Damond leaned into the embrace, letting Lane start to fill the hole that his mother’s death had left.

  7

  Roommates and Kindred Spirits

  We stayed in Draper’s room for three days, eating, laughing, planning and getting to know each other’s quirks. Bastien was gone, and it didn’t look like Reyn expected him to come back anytime soon. Reyn kept kissing my forehead with these pitying looks. It was sweet, but super annoying. I wouldn’t pine for a jackwagon who didn’t want to be with me, but I think Reyn was expecting me to.

  We started packing after my nine-hour night of sleep on the third day. My leg was finally well enough to put pressure on it. I couldn’t wait until we were in the open fields, so I could run again and test out the lasting damage I’d have to muscle through. Remy assured me it would heal good as new, but I remembered how deep the cut had been, and had my doubts.

  Draper and I were starting to become friends. He stuck by my side or Lane’s almost the entire time, except when he had business to attend to. Then he’d come back fumbling and embarrassed, needing his cigar to calm his nerves. I could tell he was worried we’d be so mad at him that we’d leave, but I’d never had a brother before, and wouldn’t give him up without a fight.

  I educated him all about modern cars, and he taught me a new card game I’d never heard of called Barbu. I completely sucked at it, but neither of us cared. We were just happy to play together. He treated me like I was five, which, after being yanked from my life with little say in anything after that, didn’t feel patronizing. It felt like we were both trying to be extra kind to each other to make up for lost time, and to pay respect to the long roads that somehow led us to playing cards together, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Plus, I could tell he needed someone to baby; poor guy was so turned around.

  One night while the others were eating downstairs and entertaining themselves with the women, or eating in the second bedroom, Lane, Draper and I decided to spend a little family time together, just the three of us in Draper’s room. Draper lit a fire while we ate and traded stories about what life had been like for us in Common.

  We’d settled on lighter stories about Lane’s job and day-to-day schedule, so I was surprised when Lane dipped into her emotional pocket and pulled out something deeper. “I’ve been thinking of taking a roommate.”

  My head jerked toward her. “Wait, what? A roommate? Who?”

  She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. “No one in particular. A female roommate looking to pay half the rent. It would make things easier. I could come to see you more often. I could get that rattling sound in my car fixed. I could eat name brand food.” She stopped herself. “Well, I don’t want to get too crazy. But yeah, a little break in the bills would be nice.”

  “Where would she sleep?”

  “Your room. Honey, it’s not like you’ll be using it. You live two hours away.”

  “I come home for the summers!”

  “Not forever. You’ll be taking a summer internship next year. I’m talking about doing this after what’s left of this summer. We’ll have one last hoorah when we get back. Then I’ll get a roommate when you start up fall classes.”

  She talked like we were headed home tomorrow or something, and had the whole of summer ahead of us. I had a feeling it would be a bit more complicated than that. If I learned anything from playing Dungeons and Dragons with Judah, the bottom always dropped out just when you thought you had your hands on the jewels.

  “I’ll do my internship back home and get a job to help with the rent, then. You don’t need to take a roommate.”

  “Honey, an internship is a job. It’s an unpaid job, and you’ll need to be available for that.”

  Draper held up his hands as we went back and forth, confused. “Wait, I thought we already established I was coming to your world with you when this was all over. I’ll get a job and pay half the rent. I’ll take Rosie’s room and keep it exactly how it is.”

  I grinned at him, loving how permanent it all felt. “That’ll work. You won’t mind my poster of Andre that I keep on the ceiling over my bed, right?” It was the one image Judah hadn’t vetoed when we’d put the treasured space to a vote.

  Draper blanched. “Um, I don’t know who that is, but I don’t want to come eyes to eyes with a man when I lay down.”

  “Seriously? You might change your mind when you see him. Andre’s pretty handsome.”

  Draper snorted, the firelight dancing off his angular features, erasing the years of loneliness and abandonment. He looked younger, his shoulders rolled back as he leaned on his side, shuffling cards for the game I still didn’t totally understand the rules of. It was a good thing I wasn’t expected to be good at this new game; dyslexia made reading cards more of a chore than a relaxing pastime. I was pretty much just picking up a card and throwing it down at random.

  Lane was contemplative, her eyebrows furrowed as she reasoned through everything. “I thought you were just saying things. Being impulsive. Draper, you don’t want to leave Avalon for our world. You’d have to start all over.”

  He gave her a look like he’d been sucking on a lemon. “Um, what life do you imagine I have here? I’ll pack up everything I need and leave in a heartbeat to start over with you and Rosie. This isn’t just for this adventure, me staying with you. I wasn’t kidding. We’re a family again, and I won’t let us get separated.”

  Lane leaned over the pile of discarded hearts and squeezed Draper around the neck. “Oh, kid. You have no idea how much I love you. If you’re sure, you can come live with us, no problem. I just want you to be absolutely sure. Our life… We don’t have a castle. It’s a big choice, so give it another few days to let it settle.”

  “No. I’m coming with you. That’s not going to settle into any other decision. I love you. You’re my mother. You took care of me when I was a boy, and now it’s my turn to look after you.”

  I knew the fire that burned in Draper, to claim Lane and pretend that any life without her didn’t exist. Draper and I were kindred spirits in that respect. My general rule of thumb was that the more a person loved Lane, the more I took a shine to them.

  Lane quirked her eyebrow to me. “What do you say, babe? You up for having your old brother back?”

  “Only if he can kill the more daring spiders,” I ruled with a grin.

  Draper leaned over and kissed my forehead, gripping the back of my head as if vowing something significant. “Anything you say, pumpkin.”

  Lane looked on the both of us as if she couldn’t fit another inch of love into her heart without it bursting with fruit flavor. From that moment on, the
three of us were a family.

  8

  Posh Spice

  In the morning, Draper had filled Lane’s bag and mine with new dresses and even a couple of his shirts for me to sleep in. There was a rhythmic thumping coming from the floor below us, which happened often. I mean, it was a whorehouse. This time, two other rhythms started pounding themselves out, banging bedposts against the wall. The noises were accompanied by grunts and operatic screams of embellished delight.

  Lot brought in a bowl of apples left over from breakfast to share with us. He’d had something to say when he first walked in, but he closed his mouth at the obvious sounds and smells of sex wafting in. He handed Lane an apple, and then started helping me shove the rest into the pack Draper had bought me.

  Lane’s teeth were set on edge. After the initial shock, she’d been quiet about the whole whorehouse thing. I could tell Draper thought he’d gotten off easy, but I knew Lane. She was planning something.

  “Draper, dear? Could you get me one of those sheer skirts your girls wear?” she asked as if she was requesting a tube of toothpaste. She shoved a few apples into her blue backpack, shooting me a look that told me to be cool and go with whatever she had in mind.

  “Um, I guess. Why?”

  “Rosie doesn’t really have many skirts. I was thinking she could wear one, like your girls do.”

  Lot dropped an apple, letting it roll across the wood. His mouth fell open, and his gentlemanly demeanor was temporarily marred. “What did you just say?” he asked, his throat suddenly hoarse.

  I tried to picture myself in the completely transparent gauzy skirts I’d seen on Draper’s girls. They had tiny jingle bells at the hips so they made a Santa Claus sound when they walked by. It had been four days of Santa bells and heads banging on headboards. The thing about the skirts was they weren’t really skirts. It was basically a matching pair of foot-wide pieces of see-through material that hung to the floor: one for in front and one for in back. They didn’t wear any underwear or anything on top. It had been quite a culture shock. Maybe Lane meant for me to wear the skirt over jeans and a t-shirt or something? Maybe she was going to use the material to sew something awesome; she was pretty crafty. I looked down at my comfy freshly washed jeans and my purple Andre the Giant t-shirt, trying to picture how the skirt would look over the jeans.