Frost: An Otherworld Tale (The Otherworld Tales Book 1)

by Chelsea Clemmons Moye

  Alyssa made a sweeping motion with her hand and billions of points of light appeared in the distance. “Or, you may take a chance at reclaiming your former life. However, this choice comes with a particular responsibility. You must accept your purpose and prove your true worth before you can return home.”

  “How can I do that?” I wrung my hands, desperate for any chance to get my life back.

  “There are infinite worlds scattered across the cosmos, many of them in crisis." Karita's voice was a gentle, encouraging caress. "We have searched our infinite creations and found a world in need of a girl, one who has your innate traits. If you can stop Daraglathia from succumbing to chaos and destruction, then you may return to your former life.”

  My mouth dropped open with an indignant snort. “Wait just a minute, what have I not done? What choices have knotted up my life?” It took me a moment to register that I was directly questioning God, and I was momentarily engulfed by fear.

  Aithne stepped forward with a caustic smile. “Your passive-aggressive refusal to face unpleasant situations and confront people has halted your progress in life. You seem to have no ability to solve your own problems in a satisfactory fashion. Instead, you ignore and avoid them, hoping they will just disappear. You have spent your entire life saying 'yes' when you mean 'no.' You make yourself miserable trying to please everyone around you. A cowardly way to live, is it not?”

  “Enough!” Alyssa glared at Aithne, radiating cold disapproval. “There is no reason to insult the girl when she is already in turmoil, and has been for the last 11 years.”

  I stared at the three of them in silent shock. How can they expect me to save an entire world if I’ve failed to live up to my potential in my own life? I stared down at my hands and chewed on my bottom lip. What if I try and fail? I don’t know how long I waited before I raised my head and faced them again. “I’ll do it. I may fail, but I have to make an effort to get my life back.”

  Aithne and Alyssa both nodded and disappeared, merely accepting my choice. Karita remained behind, beaming down at me like a proud, approving mother. "I am so proud of you for choosing life over death, my child. I have good news for you that may bring you additional comfort on your journey."

  "What is that?" I was eager for anything positive after experiencing Aithne's wrath and disappointment.

  "The questions you've been asking about your missing friend Noah all have answers in Daraglathia."

  "Is he there? Is Daraglahia where Noah has been all this time?"

  "I am not permitted to answer that question. All I can tell you is that you will find your answers in Daraglathia. Be careful and wise on your journey through this world. A civil war is brewing between humankind and elvenkind, and it must be stopped. If you succeed, you will be rewarded beyond your greatest imaginings. If you fail in this quest, you and Noah could both be lost to Earth forever."

  Before I could ask another question, I was engulfed in a blinding blue-white light that washed away my consciousness, and I faded into what I distantly assumed was sleep.

  4

  Extractions

  I woke to a cold, hard surface digging into my back. I felt my iPod shift in my back pocket and I couldn’t believe what I saw when I opened my eyes. Stacks of parchment, leather-bound tomes, and yellowed scrolls surrounded me. The room was entirely made of white marble, lit by torches, candles, and oil lamps. Holy crap, this is like waking up right in the middle of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign or being sucked into Skyrim! I leaned up on my elbows, realizing I was stretched out on a long, smooth wooden table.

  Something moved in my peripheral vision and the ice-cold point of a sword dug into my neck just hard enough to break the skin. I saw the owner of the sword out of the corner of my eye, an elegant man in leather armor. His shoulder-length brown curls fell across his pale, chiseled face as he turned and spoke to someone I couldn’t see. “Lady Adele, wake Queen Sigrid and inform her that the witch is awake.”

  Oh my God…I wasn’t dreaming. Those women, the Messengers, or God or whatever they are, they really sent me to another world. Panic clawed its way up my throat. I have to stay calm, I told myself. I focused on the walls in an attempt to block out the steel digging into my neck. There was at least one opulent, massive mirror on each of them, if not more. Maybe this queen they’re talking about is some kind of narcissist. Go figure.

  Shortly afterward, a tall, slender woman with golden, dewy skin and every right to be narcissistic swept into the room, coming to a halt beside the guard. I could tell by his posture that he was prepared to slice through my jugular at her command. I felt an overwhelming sense of relief when the woman, who I assumed was the queen, brushed him aside. “That’s quite enough, Damon. I can handle this girl myself. I will call you if I require your services again.”

  I studied her in silence as he bowed out of the room. Even standing still, she was the personification of fluid grace. Her beauty was more exotic than classical. Mahogany waves were left free to cascade down her back and perfect golden skin highlighted the allure of her deep green eyes. I sat up and crossed my legs beneath me, careful not to knock over the lamp near my feet.

  “Why am I here?” My voice was sandpapery, and I realized my throat was painfully dry.

  “I was hoping you could tell me. A massive lightning strike destroyed the fountain in my favorite garden last night. When I went to see what had happened, I found you in the smoldering rubble.” The full pout of her lips deepened and she fixed me with a slit-eyed glare. She looked like a livid cat who might lash out at any second.

  I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Are you nuts? How could I possibly have survived that?”

  “The mechanics of how you managed to survive are of little consequence to me,” she snapped, glaring at me distrustfully.

  “Then why did you have a guard posted here, waiting for me to wake up?”

  “Silence!” She prodded me in the chest. “I am Sigrid Clare, Queen over all Daraglathia. This world belongs to me and is in my care. I will ask the questions now. You will answer me.” I ground my teeth and nodded. “Who are you?”

  “Lauren Elizabeth Frost. I don’t have a fancy title, and I am of no consequence at all.” I could feel my cheeks burning with anger as my expression soured.

  “I would advise you not to take that tone with me, girl. If you were of as little consequence as you claim, you would not have fallen from the sky in a bolt of lightning.” She circled the table and studied me like she thought I was some kind of poisonous snake. Only then did I notice the pointy ears. Holy crap times five! This lady is an honest-to-God Tolkien-style elf!

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand. I really am insignificant. I don’t understand any of this. Things like this don’t happen where I come from, and elves don’t exist.”

  Her face purpled with rage. “Damon! Take this impertinent little liar to the dungeon. I need time to think and she needs time to reconsider her story.” She turned to glare at me again. “I want you to know that I do not tolerate lies. I will pull the truth out of you, and you will reveal to me how you discovered this world's existence when it has been cloaked to outside eyes for milennia. Furthermore, you will tell me why you've come here. If you do not cooperate, I will see to it that you suffer until you crumble and tell me what I want to know.”

  Somehow, I felt no fear as the pale elven guard grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the door. When we were almost there, the queen spun and held up her hand. “Wait! I have a better idea. Leave her with me a while longer, Damon. She will show me what I want to know, whether she wants to or not.”

  Dread slithered through me as Damon retreated and a placid smile curved Sigrid’s lips. She reached out and caressed the center of my forehead with her index finger. “Give me your memories,” she hissed, her green eyes holding my blue ones in a viper-like trance, leaving me unable to blink. Before I could argue or think of some way to defend myself, a searing pain shot through my skull. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming
as the room dissolved around me.

  My most recent Thanksgiving washed across my field of vision in the wake of the queen's command.

  “Get up, brat. Your dad came in here over an hour ago to wake you up. It’s Thanksgiving Day and we have things to do.”

  I was awake, but I didn’t budge. I kept my breathing even and my eyes closed, the perfect picture of peaceful sleep.

  “Get up, runt! I’m going to be your stepmother someday; I’d suggest you learn to give me the respect I deserve and do what you’re told.”

  I yawned. “Sure, whatever. And don’t call me runt.” I rolled over, stretched, and grabbed my pillow. I pressed it over my face, making it clear that I had no intention whatsoever of moving while Michelle was still in my room.

  I couldn’t help grinning into my pillow when she let out a short scream of frustration and swished out into the hall. Her whine drifted back into my room as she stomped downstairs. “Nicolas, honey, she’s refusing to get up! I swear I can’t do anything with that girl.” I rolled my eyes again, hard enough that they hurt. How ridiculous is that? She’s only four years older than I am.

  “Fine, honey, thank you for trying.” Dad's voice was thin with weariness, and I heard him trudge up the stairs. I pulled my pillow off my face and stared up at the ceiling as he stuck his head in my doorway. “Why can’t you be nicer to Michelle? She’s my girlfriend and I love her. Couldn’t you just try to get along with her?”

  “Sure, Dad, I’ll give it my best shot.” Not. She’s rude, ignorant, and not remotely good enough for you. She spends your money like crazy and does nothing to help out around the house. I’m sure all of those are great reasons for me to try to get along with her.

  Dad shook his head and the sprinkling of silver in his hair caught the hall light. I guess my tone gave me away. “I assume that this is you worrying about me, and I appreciate it, but I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.”

  “In most cases, I’d agree with you, but I think you’re a little naïve when it comes to Michelle,” I plead.

  “Drop it." His voice was stony, making it clear that the subject of his love life with my former bully was closed for discussion. "Please get up and get dressed. Ric and his son Neal are having Thanksgiving dinner with us, and your grandparents are on their way.”

  I was dressed and in the dining room fifteen minutes later, but I wasn’t happy about Dad siding with Michelle, as usual. I made my feelings clear when I refused to acknowledge her presence. Maybe if I ignore her, the universe will be kind and remove her from this reality. Dad gave me a pained look and I ignored that, too, keeping my eyes trained on the front door instead.

  Everything felt better the second my grandparents walked in. “Granny!” My smile was broad and genuine as I swept the tiny, snowy-haired woman into a ferocious hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

  “Me, too, sweetheart. You look good.” She beamed up at me and smoothed my hair back out of my face.

  My smile stretched as far as my lips would go. “Thanks. So do you, as usual.” I winked at her and turned to hug Grandpa Alex. “Hey, Pop.” I wrapped my arms around his frail frame and had to blink back tears. “How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m doing fine, babe.”

  We both knew it was a lie. Lung cancer was eating away at him with every breath he took. I led him to one of the recliners in the living room and dropped a kiss on top of his thick, wavy, steel gray hair before gravitating back to my granny. We slipped into the kitchen, and for once I was glad Michelle didn’t offer to lend a hand. I needed unspoiled time with Granny Betty.

  As soon as the door swung closed behind us, she squeezed my shoulder. “How are you holding up, dear? I know it has to be hard for you at school right now. This is the South. People always run their mouths when there’s the slightest bit of fodder for ridicule. Now, on top of that, you have to deal with that girl living here.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust and she shook her head.

  “I’m doing fine, Granny.”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile. “You can’t lie to me, baby girl. I’m your grandmother.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll make it.”

  “I know you will. You’re a resilient young woman. I want you to know that Grandpa Alex and I are very proud of you.” She gave my shoulder another reassuring squeeze before pulling an apron out of her oversized purse and pulling it on.

  I sighed and shook my head. “I’m not strong, Granny. I wish I were, but I’m not.”

  She tweaked my nose and kissed me on the cheek. “Yes, you are, baby girl. You just don’t know it yet.”

  My father's business partner Richard "Ric" Camp and his son, Neal, arrived while we were cooking. Even with the kitchen door shut, I could hear Dad carrying on with Ric, who had been his college roommate. He was still very much a big kid in so many ways. I was moving a tray of croissants to the dining room table when I overheard whispers.

  “Hey, Chelle, did you do your macroeconomics homework last night?” Neal's voice dripped with false charm and a sense of entitlement.

  “No." Michelle's reply was flippant, careless at best. "I was too busy explaining to Nic that I need a new iPhone.”

  I repressed a gag at her repulsive, money-grubbing nature, but couldn't resist the urge to continue eavesdropping.

  “He’s going to get you one?”

  “Probably. He hasn’t denied me anything up to this point. I don’t know why he would now, as long as his precious baby girl doesn’t start messing things up for me.”

  I shook with silent rage, but I couldn’t stop listening. Neal’s soft laughter made my skin crawl. “Can you blame her? You’re four years older than she is, and you’re sleeping with her father.”

  “Like you can say anything. You’re only thinking about dating her because you feel like if you do, you can have your foot in the door at Nicholas’s company when we graduate.”

  “I hate that you have to spend so much time with that old fool. We never get to have fun anymore. I miss having you in my bed.”

  I almost threw up. I couldn’t stand to hear more and retreated to the kitchen. I was crying before the door shut behind me. Granny Betty pulled me into a hug. “I heard them too, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

  I buried my face in her shoulder. “If I try to tell him, Dad will get angry and say I’m just jealous. He’ll never believe it.” I did my best to stifle a sob and hiccupped.

  “This may sound harsh, especially since I’m his mother, but your father is too much of a stubborn jackass to be reasoned with. He’s been that way his whole life. The idiot will have to learn his lesson the hard way. He always has. Now, go wash your face with some cold water. We don’t want Michelle and Neal to know we overheard them. At least you know to turn him down when he asks you out, now.”

  I let out a chuckle and shook my head. "I wouldn't have said yes anyway." Granny Betty and I both knew why: my obsession with finding Noah had nipped several potential relationships in the bud, already.

  After the meal, I settled in the living room with Grandpa Alex to watch the Crimson Tide play football. I didn’t know all the mechanics of the sport, but I still enjoyed watching it. More important than that, it was time spent with my grandfather. There was also the bonus of knowing that Michelle wouldn’t be caught dead in the room while the game was on. The thought made me smirk and Grandpa Alex patted my hand as if he'd read my mind.

  “Don’t let the hussy get to you, sweet pea. She isn’t worth getting angry at, and she’s not going to stick around.”

  I smiled over at him and his pale blue eyes twinkled back at me. “How do you know, Pop? They’re practically engaged. She’s not going to let him out of that too easily.”

  “That girl has the attention span of a gnat." He squeezed my hand a little tighter, as if to emphasize his point. "She’s going to get bored once your dad’s infatuation shifts back to his business. He’ll have deals to make and employees to oversee. She’ll accuse him of neglecting her and move
on to some other rich, lonely idiot, or maybe a young, good-looking one. The important thing to remember is that, sooner or later, she’s going to leave.”