Entice

by Carrie Jones

  After my shower I read the city guidebook and stare out the windows at the ridiculously early setting sun and the beautiful white buildings that house the theater and the cultural center. My hands press against the glass, making marks. The glass chills against my skin, unlike the wood beneath my feet. I should make Betty install heated floors—it makes the cold much more bearable. Just the thought of Betty makes me feel more lonely. I close my eyes, wonder what she and Issie and Devyn are doing; Cassidy too. I wish I could call my mom and check up on her. It really wasn’t easy leaving Bedford. I made Astley dispatch extra pixies to watch over everyone because I was so nervous about it.

  A knock comes from the door to Astley’s suite. I shuffle over and open it. He stares down at me, eyes focused and concerned.

  “Are you sad?” he asks. “More than you usually are?”

  I nod but say, “I’m okay.”

  His hand reaches out like he is going to touch my face, but he pulls his arm back to his side again. “Get some sleep, Zara. You must be exhausted.”

  Pulling my lips in toward my mouth, I swallow hard. He notices; I can tell. This time his hand lifts up and his fingers push some hair behind my ear.

  “We shall find him very soon,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

  Then his hand falls and he closes the door.

  …

  A frantic knocking wakes me up. I fall out of the bed, bump my shin on the end table, and stagger toward the door between our two suites.

  Flinging open the door, I start to say, “What?”

  But Astley motions for me to be silent, pointing at his phone, which is on speaker. An accented male voice echoes into our wide-open rooms, loud and easy to understand, though I can’t place the accent at all.

  “It is me, your highness. Please meet me at the Blue Lagoon. Be there in one hour. In the pools.”

  “Where?” Astley asks as my fingers clutch his naked forearm. “Where in the pools?”

  “I shall find you near the entrance. Do not worry.”

  “Fine,” Astley says as the line goes dead.

  Astley clicks off the phone. We’re staring into each other’s eyes for a full second before I realize what’s happened. When I do, I end up shrieking and leaping into his arms, screaming about how awesome he is and how grateful I am, basically making all these noises that make no sense at all. He swings me around, and for a second everything is beautiful and hopeful even though the sun has already set outside and darkness covers the world.

  The Blue Lagoon pools spread out before us, almost an acre of extraordinarily warm spa water. The lagoon is a gorgeous deep blue lit up by overhead lamps. Steam rises from it as it meets the cold air. People swim around, tiny dark silhouettes in all the steam and blue. We’ve both changed into swimsuits in the locker rooms and now we’re standing in the outside air, looking around like we’ll magically sense where to go and what to do.

  Astley’s arm goes around my shoulders. “Your teeth are chattering, Zara. You need to get in the water.”

  I don’t argue. Iceland air is colder than Maine air and I’m in a bathing suit. A bathing suit! That I had to rent. Just the fact of that alone kills me, it’s so skeevy.

  We hurry down the steps. Warm, cozy water hits my body. It’s better than a bathtub. The water feels thicker. It’s easy to float. On the way over Astley told me that the lagoon was made from a natural geothermal spring, that two continents are pushing away from each other and right here is the crack. Old lava covered with delicate moss frames the pools, which seem to go on forever.

  Astley sighs contentedly as he dips into water up to his neck. I bob around next to him. The bottom of the pool is all knobby, not smooth at all, but the water is amazing, like having a heated bathrobe wrapped around you.

  “It is beautiful,” he says, looking at everything longingly.

  “It is,” I agree, but I’m looking around like a crazy woman. “But where is this Vander person? Is this how we get to Valhalla? I mean, it almost makes sense if there’s this crack growing here.”

  “That is not exactly how it works.” He floats on his back.

  “Whatever.” I don’t care how it works. I just care about finding Nick. Still, I can’t resist floating on my back next to Astley, closing my eyes for a second and just letting the water hold me up. Sometimes it’s so hard to hold yourself up. This is a nice change.

  “Sometimes I wish my life could always be like this,” he says.

  I bob. “Like what?”

  “Peaceful. Beautiful. No violence. No threats.” He turns his head to smile at me. His eyes are soft, mushy looking, but strong. I’m not sure what that look means.

  “That would be so amazing.” I start to say something else, but Astley’s distracted. I follow his gaze, which is on a very pale man in a horrible black Speedo. Nobody except professional swimmers should wear those.

  “That is him,” Astley says, waving.

  The man enters the water and wades over. He bows at Astley, then takes my hand and kisses it. “Your highnesses.”

  If I wasn’t so psyched about finding Nick, I’d freak out about being called that.

  Vander smiles at me. “I am sorry to be so cryptic earlier, but the location of the home of the gods is not exactly something you want to go out on a cell phone line.”

  Astley smiles. “We understand.”

  “Thank you for being so kind, your highness.” The man breathes in deeply and meets our gaze, each in turn. He looks at Astley when he says, “The bridge is at Gullfoss.”

  Gullfoss! I actually know where that is. It’s this huge waterfall that I read about in the guidebook. I squeal and do the best I can not to faint from happiness.

  “The best time is the morning,” he says. “The pathway between the worlds is most accessible then. There will be a rock tied with gold ribbon that you must throw into the waterfall. I will leave instructions there as well.”

  “Will you come with us?” Astley asks.

  “If you wish it.”

  Astley looks at me, but I shake my head no. I don’t mean to offend the pixie guy, but I want it to just be Astley and me saving Nick. Astley relays this and thanks him for his help.

  “The gods be with you,” he says as he leaves.

  “And also with you,” Astley answers. As soon as the pixie disappears into the mist, Astley turns to me and says, “How about that?”

  I hug him as hard as I possibly can, feeling joyous, ecstatic, and so very, very grateful. “Thank you, Astley. Thank you.”

  He laughs and kisses the top of my head.

  8

  @cierradumont Thinking of moving out of town. Suggestions? #Bedfordstinks

  We eat dinner at the hotel later, a crazy-fancy restaurant with modern black tables, sleek lines, and food that looks pretty on the plates. But I have the hardest time concentrating on anything. I barely even saw the cute old buildings in the middle of the city that we drove by. Even now I barely see Astley across the table from me.

  He passes me some pepper for my salad and asks, “Excited?”

  “Just a little,” I kid. Our fingers touch on the pepper shaker. He lets go.

  “You could use my phone and update your friends,” he suggests.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I found a computer with Internet access in the lobby and I e-mailed them all.”

  The pepper falls in little flakes. A waiter slips by us, heading to another table. It’s quiet and calm here, nothing like the crazy racing heart in my chest, nothing like how all my nerves are super adrenalized from what happened in the lagoon.

  “We are going to Valhalla tomorrow!” I blurt.

  “I know!” Astley laughs and then stabs some lettuce. He chews for a little bit before asking me, “What is your biggest want?”

  “To keep people safe and get Nick back.”

  He ponders this but doesn’t look surprised. “And what is your biggest fear?”

  “Well, it used to be of myself, of what I could become, but that’s
a reality now. I mean, I’m all”—I lower my voice—“pixie, so that big fear has actually come true, but my next biggest fear is failing out of school. Well, no, not really. It’s just of losing people.”

  His eyes meet mine. His eyes are so deep and blue. “Because you have lost your father, and your mother too in a way, and now you have lost Nick.”

  A lump of lettuce seems stuck in my throat. It makes my eyes water. “Yeah.”

  His hand reaches out and covers mine on the table. “I am so sorry for all your sadness, Zara.”

  I don’t move my hand. “I am sorry for yours too.”

  In my room, I can’t calm down, so I make a “Steps to Happy” list on the little hotel notepad sitting on the desk.

  Steps to Happy

  1. Get Nick.

  2. Make Nick calm down about me being pixified.

  3. Buy Astley thank-you present.

  4. Get back home.

  5. Kick bad pixie butt and make Bedford safe.

  It’s a good list.

  …

  I barely sleep because I’m so excited about heading to Valhalla. When I wake up in the morning, I look around the room, trying to find some good Valhalla travel gear, but towels and bathrobes and Reykjavik guides do not seem appropriate. So I stuff into my backpack a steak knife I took from the restaurant, some sterile gauze I snatched from home (in case of wounds), and the curtain ties from the room, which I think could double as rope. I stash my water bottle and a few granola bars in case we get hungry. By the time I’m done with packing and showering, Astley is knocking on the door.

  His jeans drape off his hips. His unzipped parka hangs from his shoulders. He hands me another water bottle and then slings his own pack on his shoulder. He doesn’t smile. He’s all serious.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  He pushes open the door. “You have your room key?”

  “Nope!” I hop back and grab it. “My mom always forgets those too. Do you have yours?”

  For a second he pretends like he doesn’t, and then he pats his wallet. “Of course. Right with our passports.”

  “Show-off,” I tease.

  He finally smiles.

  That’s all we have for fun. We are pretty silent for the entire car ride through the dark Icelandic landscape. I’m too psyched to talk much, and I wonder if Astley feels the same way or is just respecting the silence, because he’s quiet too.

  There are two falls, each over a hundred feet tall. At first because of the way the land drops off, it seems that the massive river just vanishes into the earth, but it’s an illusion. We’re on top of the waterfall, which rushes to a pit beneath us. The sun rises as we get there, revealing how far down into a canyon the falls actually go. Half the water is frozen while the other half thunders down through the ice. Mist rises everywhere, creating tiny rainbows all over the place.

  “The way to get to Valhalla is over the rainbow bridge,” I whisper as I slip on the crazy terrain.

  Astley grabs my arm to steady me, smiling but surveying the scene. “I know.”

  We are the only ones here, probably because the sun just began to rise and it’s so cold and slippery. Ice and mist encase the landscape. It’s like frozen magic everywhere.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I whisper. I reach out my fingers like I could touch a rainbow somehow, but all I touch is cold mist. I pull my gloves on, and then Astley shoves big yarn mittens over them for an extra layer of protection. The mist from our breaths joins the vapor in the air.

  Then I see it: a rock tied with a golden scarf. It waits near the edge of the stream. “Look!”

  We rush toward it. Astley gets there first. The rock is flat and large and has writing carved into it. He picks it up and hands it to me. My hands tremble beneath the weight. We untie the scarf together. The writing is not English. I don’t understand it at all, so I look to Astley for help.

  “It’s old Norse.” His brows knit together as he stares, obviously concentrating. “It says, ‘Throw the stone to the golden falls and proclaim your intent to awaken the way.’ ”

  The wind blows against us. I stagger, trying to maintain my balance. “What does that mean?”

  “I assume what it says.” His eyes are bright. “I assume that—”

  Something catches his attention. He stops midsentence and yells behind me, “Do not come closer!”

  Whirling around, I see him too, a tall man, with dark hair that matches my own. I lean toward Astley as my heart pounds hard and fast. “Astley, that’s—”

  “Your father. I know.” He steps in front of me acting protective, the same way Nick always did, the same way I do with Devyn and Issie.

  I clutch the stone to my chest as my father steps forward. His skin is so pale. Circles live beneath his eyes. His hands are out, palms facing us. “I offer you no harm. I have come to help.”

  I push around Astley and confront my father. All the wrongs he’s ever done form a ball of anger in my chest.

  “You? Help?”

  He shakes his head, comes closer. “Yes. I followed you here.”

  My father, the stalker. Great. I will myself to calm down.

  Astley speaks before I can. “I told you to stand back. Explain yourself.”

  He tells us that he followed us onto the plane, glamoured himself so we wouldn’t see him, and trailed us to the hotel, then to the spa and here. He saw Vander speaking to us at the lagoon.

  “I do not trust him,” my father says. His eyes look infinitely weary, as if he has given up on trust, on his kingdom, on everything.

  “And why not?” Astley asks, bristling. He stands with his feet shoulder width apart, bracing himself. “He is most trusted. He has been with us for ages. Whereas you, sir, have only shown yourself to be untrustworthy, a king with such a failure of strength that you often do worse than evil would. So tell me why I should not trust my man?”

  “I have no words to explain why. I just do not.” My father’s voice is so tired.

  “What do you think, Zara?” Astley touches my shoulder with his glove. It’s a nice, steady hand.

  My father has killed and tortured, stalked my mother, and possibly caused my stepfather’s death. I’d like to say that there was no way I would trust him, because that would be logical. I’d like to say that he is just all evil, because that would be easy. But nothing is that way. Nothing is all good or all bad. Even I have killed and kidnapped, haven’t I? We didn’t have trials when we imprisoned all his pixies. We didn’t give them a choice. Sure, our motives were about keeping people safe and my father’s motives were about need, but still … And what about redemption? What about the chance to change your ways, to make things right, to cast aside a life of bad for a moment of pure good?

  “I don’t … I don’t know what to think,” I say.

  “Zara, when Nick died, I ran away. I could have helped you, but I did not.” My father grabs my shoulders, forces me to look at him. “I have never done anything to earn your trust, or your mother’s. But you are journeying to the land of the gods, Zara, and you are so young.”

  “I’m not that young,” I sputter out. The falls rush below us. The mist swirls around my father’s hair. “And I know that you have done things before, things that are good.”

  Astley shifts his weight next to me and I turn my head to look at him instead of my father. It is just too hard to look at my father.

  “What is it?” Astley asks. “What are you thinking?”

  Another rainbow pops up in the mist, just behind Astley’s head, and I am suddenly filled with confidence, that this is exactly where we’re supposed to be. “He let my mother go,” I whisper. “When we trapped him, he saw her escaping and he let her go. And he tried to warn me about Frank. Even though he was weak, he kept trying to help me—the way a real dad would, you know?”

  “It wasn’t enough,” my father says, his voice breaking slightly. Turning back to look at him, I see a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “We bot
h know that.”

  I don’t disagree. “And how do I know that you won’t betray me now? That you won’t just go to Valhalla and not bring Nick back, that this isn’t part of some devious plan?”

  The skin by the corner of his eye twitches. “I swear to you, Zara, and you know I speak the truth. You can feel it in your skin.”

  It’s true. I can feel it. The truth he speaks is a warmth, gold and light brushing against my cheeks.

  “Let me rescue him for you. Let me do this for you,” he insists. His fingers brush against the fabric of my parka.

  I suck my lips in toward my teeth. It feels like tears are collecting in my eyelids. I refuse to let them out. I refuse.

  The water crashes down. The rainbows bend in the mist. I count to five in my head before I look up at Astley, who nods just the slightest of bits.

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay, but make sure you get him, Dad, please.”

  When I say “Dad,” he closes his eyes for just the smallest of moments, and then he says, “I will.”

  Letting go of my shoulders, he kisses me quickly on the cheek. Then he says, “Thank you for letting me try to be the man, the father, that I have always wanted to be.”

  The tears leave my eyes, and then my father turns to Astley. “If anything should happen—”

  “We shall take care of each other,” Astley insists. “Good luck to you, sir.”

  My father’s shoulders lift just a tiny bit as he nods. Then he says to me, “You are a beautiful, strong queen, Zara, stronger than I could ever be. You make me proud. I’ll be back soon with your wolf.”

  Just as the instructions told us to, my father turns toward the waterfall. What if I’ve made a mistake trusting him? What if he’s tricking me, planning to hold Nick hostage for my mother? He treads easily despite the slippery surfaces, and once he is at the edge he hauls in the stone. Then he lifts up his arms and yells in a voice that’s almost as loud as the thundering water, “Bring me to the gods.”