by Carli Castle
“What are you up to,” Caleb asked him, closing the book and making it disappear with a wave of his hand. “Any Elle encounters tonight?”
“Haven’t we talked about this already?” Lucas opened the door wider. “I have not seen her since that day at the palace, for your information. And why are you so interested in her anyway?”
Caleb stood. “I’m not interested in her, I am interested in you, my brother.”
“I’m going to mom’s, want to come,” he asked instead of responding to the last comment.
Caleb’s eyes became alight with pleasure. “That is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
It was pleasant when they walked out, and Lucas enjoyed the cool spring air on his face. It was interesting what a difference a few days made climate-wise. There were a lot more buds on trees now, and there was a fragrance in the air that definitely spoke of spring. It was nice. The sun was starting to set, but there was still plenty of light as they teleported to the town.
It was absolutely perfect, Lucas thought.
Though the light was starting to fade, the shops were still bustling with customers. It wasn’t a very big town, but it was charming. It sat to the west of Esmeralda, in the middle of the valley, and it was the kind of town where everyone knew each other.
He and Caleb greeted some people on their way, people they’d known since they were little boys. It was certainly nice to be back home, even if just for a little while.
They didn’t have to walk long until they were in front of their childhood home. It was white and tall, with bright blue shutters, and a sunny-yellow door. His mother kept her flower bushes tidy, and he could see the tulips coming up.
They entered the front lawn through the white, wrought iron gate and without knocking, walked into the house. They could hear their mom yelling something in the kitchen and Lucas couldn’t help a smile.
“What did Noah do this time,” Caleb asked loudly on their way to the kitchen, which was where they could hear her still talking about some ingredient or the other.
Their mom, Mary Agnes, appeared on the archway that connected the dining room to the kitchen, smiling widely. She was a tiny little thing, plump in some places, lean in others. Her dark hair, which she kept long for convenience, was pulled into a bun at the top of her head, with a pencil sticking out of it. Her blue eyes were darker than Lucas’s, more like the deep part of the ocean.
“Oh, how great to see you two misfits,” she said, coming closer to hug first Caleb, then Lucas. “You are skinny, Lucas. Have you been eating? What am I saying? Of course you are, you’re like a bucket with no bottom. Come to the kitchen, talk to me.”
Lucas went straight to the refrigerator to find one of his mother’s freshly made juices. They were his favorite thing in the world. There was nothing better than freshly made juice from actual fruit.
“What were you yelling about,” Lucas asked her as he sat on the breakfast nook.
“Noah,” she offered as an explanation. “He’s in a dreamland state today. He was supposed to bring me all the ingredients for the dragon pox potion, and he forgot the dragon berries. The main ingredient! Can you believe that? This child, I tell you.”
“Maybe he met a girl,” Caleb teased, helping himself to some leftovers from the refrigerator.
“Shut up,” Noah mumbled from the kitchen doorway. He was a tall boy at sixteen. His hair was a lot lighter than that of the rest of his family, and he kept it really short. He looked just like their mother with her same shade of eyes and the same shape to his face.
“Ooh, little Noah met a girl,” Caleb sang, making Noah blush beet red.
“Shut up,” Noah repeated.
“Caleb, be nice to your little brother,” Mom said, but she was holding back a smile. “Noah, please go get my vials.”
“Yes, mother,” Noah mumbled, still red, and went to their mother’s storage space in the basement to pick up a box of crystal vials.
“You love tormenting your brother far too much,” Mom muttered as she took a whiff of the potion fumes as she began stirring.
“Of course,” Lucas and Caleb said in unison.
Noah walked back into the kitchen with a large box of vials, which he placed on the counter. “Did you find out who murdered that girl from the other day?” he asked as he began to take out vials and put them carefully on the counter.
Mom hit him on the back of the head. “That is no question for you to ask! What girl?” She looked at Lucas and Caleb.
“It’s a valid question!” Noah frowned. “People are freaking out.”
“Have you heard anything,” Caleb asked him, throwing a glance at Lucas, who’d stopped moving, a glass of juice halfway to his mouth.
“Not much. At school, they just say the council has things under control, but some kids are kind of afraid,” Noah said.
“Am I invisible here,” Mom asked, her hands on her hips. “What are we talking about?” She looked at Lucas and Caleb.
“We’re not supposed to be talking about this yet,” Caleb sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Well, I already heard, so what’s the big deal?” Noah pointed out.
“He is right, you know,” Lucas said to Caleb, who sneered halfheartedly. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. It’s no surprise most know about it already. King Patrick was supposed to announce it at this point. He’s taken too long.”
“When did this happen,” Mom asked them.
“Just a few days ago,” Caleb said, giving up. “Lucas found her.”
The ladle clanged on the stove when she dropped it.
“I’m fine, mom,” Lucas mumbled, even before she went to him and hugged him. He still accepted the hug, because it was nice. He’d missed his mom.
“How did she die,” Mom asked, eyeing Caleb briefly before running back to the potion, which was about to boil over.
“I don’t think that’s something we should talk about right now, mom,” Caleb said.
“Why not? I know,” Noah announced. “I hear her heart was ripped out of her chest and her soul hasn’t come back to say who killed her.”
There was a weird silence that lasted just a tad too long. His mother seemed to be suspended, looking at Caleb with eyes that were wide and far too glassy. She looked like she was going to faint any minute.
“Mom, please sit,” Caleb said, stood, and led her to the chair he’d been sitting on. “That was enough information for now, Noah.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it,” Noah continued, taking mom’s place by the stove and stirring the pot. “You would think those stories mom used to tell us were for real.”
This time the silence was deafening and it lasted for a full three minutes as Lucas looked back and forth from his mother’s stunned expression to Caleb’s. He cleared his throat to diffuse the tension, because he knew something was up, but something inside him really didn’t want know.
“So, Noah, talk to me about this girl,” he said, trying lighten up the mood.
“What makes you think it’s a girl?” Caleb cleared his throat, then snickered, though it sounded strained.
“It’s not a guy!” Noah snapped, his face going red again.
“Ah, so there is a girl,” Mom peered at Noah.
Noah lifted his chin defiantly. “So? Caleb and Lucas are allowed to date.”
“Caleb and Lucas are adults, you’re a kid,” Mom said, and Noah blushed again.
“I’m sixteen,” Noah protested, sounding more and more like a petulant child. “And Caleb and Lucas are not even seeing anyone despite being adults, so what’s the point.”
“You don’t know if we’re dating or not,” Caleb said.
Mom looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“When will you ever learn,” she asked and stood, walked to the stove to continue her work with the potion.
“What,” Noah asked, but mom and Caleb ignored him.
“I’m fine, mom,” Caleb said, starting to pass her vials that she
then filled.
“I will not tell you what to do, you are a man,” she said, pouring potion into vials with a tiny golden ladle.
“Or maybe he really isn’t seeing anyone at all, and he’s just making it up so he doesn’t look bad,” Noah snickered. Caleb hit him on the back of the head. “Hey! Moooom,” he whined, and mom stopped pouring potion to look at them both.
“Caleb, stop hitting your brother, and Noah, please go finish up your chores before dinner.”
Noah turned to leave, but not before he slapped Caleb square on the face before he ran off. Caleb put down the vial and ran after him, and Lucas heard the crash of something falling on the hall.
“That was probably that vase again,” Mom said, shaking her head. “You can fix that for me, right, darling?”
“Of course.” Lucas stood from his seat and went to help her put corks in the vials.
“How about you, dear?”
“How about me what?”
“Are there any young ladies getting your attention?”
He thought about telling her about Elle and leaving out the part where she’s a princess, but decided it was not a good idea to reveal anything at all. There was nothing between him and Elle other than a budding friendship, despite the fact that he was so attracted to her.
“Not currently,” he answered when he felt the silence dragged on too long.
“How about that Callie girl from work?”
“Callie’s super nice and pretty, I’m just…” he hesitated, trying to find the words, “not so into her.”
Mom shook her head a little.
“How about the other thing,” she asked and he stopped corking the bottles, and stared at her.
“Excuse me? Isn’t that inappropriate for you to ask?”
She glanced at him and stopped what she was doing to smack him on the back of the head. “I am talking about your powers.”
“Then why didn’t you ask that?”
Mom made an exasperated sound and went back to filling the vials.
“I haven’t had a power manifestation in a long time, not since I lived at home,” he told her. It was the truth, and he was happy about it. He did not want to have any power manifestations. He didn’t want to feel that darkness in him when it happened, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. “I did want to talk to you about something.”
“What would that be,” she asked as she filled the last bottle and began to seal the ones that had been corked.
“I was reading some stuff on the myth of the Witch Goddesses,” he started. He noticed how his mom straightened her back and stopped sealing the last vial. “There wasn’t a whole lot to go by, but you did have literature on it that I would like to read again.”
“Okay,” she said and waited.
“Someone at the council suggested Lana Juren’s death could have been because of a Shadow.”
“Is that right?” She started washing her potion utensils.
“Yes, and the death is suspect enough that we want to know everything there is to know to rule it out.”
“And they actually think the story could be true?”
“I do, and so do Caleb, Princess Harper, and one other member. The others are a little skeptical.”
“Why wouldn’t they be,” she mumbled.
“So do you have anything?”
“I should have a book or two you can read, but I will have to find them.”
Caleb came back into the kitchen then, and mom started putting things away. Lucas had the distinct feeling something was wrong, but he couldn’t really know what it was for sure. Sometimes, he just got feelings about things, like promptings, but he usually didn’t pay attention to them. Maybe he was just a little delusional, or too hesitant to act on them.
“Go clear up the table, Lucas, I will have dinner ready soon,” Mom said and he went to do just that as Caleb pulled out plates and silverware.
They had dinner while talking about nothing in particular, and when they left for their respective homes, Lucas felt sorry he didn’t get to see his father too. He worked too much, and had irregular hours, so Lucas and Caleb hadn’t seen him in a while.
When he walked inside his dark house, a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. For the most part, he liked being alone in his own space, but he wasn’t feeling like being alone just then. He even missed his mom yelling at one of them for one reason or the other. And all the questions in his head were not helping with the sinking feeling in his stomach. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.
It was always a little difficult to be alone after he visited his family, but it was harder this time. He would have thought visiting would make dealing with home sickness easier, but it never really did, even when he lived so close to home, just a teleport away.
He wondered if it felt the same for Caleb as he changed his clothes. Maybe it did, but Caleb was a bit weird about sharing his feelings with anyone.
He grabbed a small artist bag, which held his sketchbook and other drawing supplies, and walked right out the door again. His feet moved automatically, knowing exactly where to go. He reached the edge of the forest and teleported toward that place he hadn’t been to in too long. It was a place he always went to when he needed to unwind.
It should have been dark where he reappeared, because the moon couldn’t pierce through the dense trees. Instead, the place was faintly alight, almost glowing.
He walked the rest of the way, up the gentle slope of the hill, admiring the view. This part of the forest was like a cocoon, secluded, quiet. Peaceful. It was filled with various bushes and other plants he didn’t want to stop to see if he recognized. Most were showing tender leaves, and buds of flowers were making an appearance.
He followed a well-worn path to his destination; there was some snow still covering the ground in patches. He pushed aside the vines that grew down from giant rocks, and entered the place he preferred most when he was feeling restless.
The seven small waterfalls fell clear into the wide pool, crystalline and clean. Beneath the water, stones glowed in different colors, filling the entire area with light, along with the rocks that surrounded the pool.
They were called soaker stones, since they soaked up sunlight, charging themselves with energy so they could provide light at night.
During the day, the nook would be filled with sunlight, and the auroras surrounding the entire place would have blooms when the time came. It was one of the most beautiful places he had seen in his entire life. The best part was that not many people visited, even during the day, and none ever visited at night, at least since he’d been coming here.
He went to the rock he usually sat on, and removed his satchel by pulling the strap over his head. He always chose this spot, because he could see everything from that position, and he could soak his feet into the perpetually warm water if he wanted to.
He settled on the rock and took out his art supplies from the leather bag. He opened the sketchbook to a blank page, aware he didn’t have very many pages left. He wasn’t surprised, since he used that book to sketch anything from beautiful views to ideas for inventions that he’d never tried to actually make.
Without having a clear picture in his mind, his hand flew over the paper, the pencil striking line upon line. A picture started to form, first eyes, almond shaped, framed with a million dark lashes, and brows that were sweetly curved over them. His mind wasn’t thinking of the reasons why he was drawing eyes. When he drew, it was like his hand just knew what it wanted to do. He didn’t always have to think about it.
He was so absorbed in the drawing he didn’t hear steps behind him, and then he heard the feminine voice.
“Now, this is a surprise.”
Startled, he turned toward the voice, the pencil flying off his hand and into the pool of water, his pulse going into overdrive at the sight of her.
“Elle!” He stood. “Hey. Hi. Hello.” He snapped his mouth shut.
She walked closer to him, her steps light, almost a
s if she were walking on a cloud. Her icy blue skirt almost shimmered in the light from the pool and the soaker stones as it swirled around her ankles.
“If it isn’t Lucas Ferrin himself.” She smiled.
“What are you doing here?”
“I come here quite often, actually.” She sat on the rock and he did the same. “I find this place calming.”
“Funny, I come here often as well.” He put down the sketchbook, open to the page where he had been drawing, suddenly realizing with a roll of his stomach that it had been her eyes he’d been sketching. He cleared his throat, closing the book. “Interesting that I have never seen you here before.”
“Are you always this nervous around other human beings,” she asked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Mostly, yes.”
She leaned her head to the side. “Why’s that?”
“I’m a little awkward,” he admitted, wondering what it was about her that made it so easy for him to just spill the beans like an idiot. And she wasn’t even using her power on him. He would have noticed. “Socially, that is,” he added.
“So you get nervous around people in general?”
“No, mostly princesses that insist on me calling them by their nickname.”
She laughed, and what a nice laugh it was. She threw back her head, her magnificent hair falling over her shoulders, and he couldn’t help it but join her. Was there something more melodic than her laughter? It was like listening to the bright and pure sound of a birdsong.
Good grief, now he sounded like some kind of bad poet. What was wrong with him? Since when did he think in metaphor?
“So in other words, I make you nervous,” she said, batting her lashes in that comical way little girls did when they were trying to get something from their parents. He swore he’d be alert for that if he ever had a daughter. The thing just worked.
“No, people of your status make me nervous. Calling you by your first name does too.”
“Would you rather call me by my title?” She frowned. “Here I thought I had a newfound friend.”
He paused at her words, unable to find any words to reply. Were they friends?
“Please, don’t call me by my title. It’s so stuffy.” She cocked her head. “Unless you think I’m stuffy, because then I would totally deserve it.”