by Linda Kage
Epilogue
Dori
EARTH 2020
“Leeva,” I called from the wrought-iron balcony as I pulled my unruly mop of hair up into a quick knot and watched a busker down on the street below set up shop at the corner. “I’m outtie.”
He was the first street performer I’d spotted on our block since the world had gone crazy. Seeing him now brought on a sense of energy and hope that expanded in my chest, making me realize I had missed my daily dose of happy vibes from the sidewalk crowds.
The twang of his saxophone warming up caused my lips to quirk and hips to shift with the melody as I grabbed my watering can from the tiny terrace table and gave my canisters full of planted vegetables and blooming flowers a quick bath. One of my tomatoes looked like it might be ripe for the picking soon.
Also uplifting news.
I set the watering can aside and reentered the apartment through the French door, where I grabbed my purse and mask hanging off the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen bar and swung the purse strap over my shoulder.
My roommate stumbled into the front room just as I reached the exit. “Where the hell are you going at this time of day?” she mumbled on a yawn as she scratched at the silk scarf she had wrapped around her head.
“Work,” I answered perkily, motioning to the white button-up blouse I wore with the black bow tie and black mini skirt over matching leggings. If that didn’t scream waitress loud enough, then the pristine white sneakers and gray half bistro apron certainly did. “Some of us still have to work for a living.”
“Damn essential employees,” Leeva teased on a yawn. “You know, if you found a sugar daddy even half as generous as mine, you wouldn’t have to do so much of that working nonsense.”
“Don’t I know it,” I answered back on a grin as I opened my arms to her. “Now give me some sweet lovings goodbye so I can go.”
As she grumbled over the contact but shuffled forward to hug me anyway, I folded her into my arms tight and sighed happily, still feeling strangely lifted from the sight of that one busker outside. Things were about to get better. I could just feel it.
“I’ll be back by early afternoon,” I reported, pulling away. “You got any plans for today?”
“Oh…” flinging herself up onto a chair at the bar, she reached for a beignet I’d gone out earlier to scrounge up for breakfast. “I’m not sure yet.” Closing her eyes, she moaned and chewed before brushing powdered sugar from her lips and saying with a full mouth, “I might hit up a protest I heard the others were going to start on Royal a little later.”
“Just be careful,” I told her, pointing a stern finger.
A few marches not so far from us had gotten a little violent recently. I didn’t want Leeva caught up in any kind of danger.
“Always am, ma chérie.” She tapped her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss at me. “Now get that adorable little butt to your boring-ass job and serve some lame tables already. Maybe a customer in your section will end up being a handsome and available millionaire on the lookout for an independent-minded half-Creole girl with a quirky set of values.”
“I don’t have a quirky set of values,” I pouted as I opened the door.
“You really do,” she countered, winking at me. “But I love you anyway. Now scoot.”
“Well, if that isn’t a grand dismissal.” I rolled my eyes only to laugh and blow a kiss right back at her. “Bye. Love you too.”
But as I swept into the hallway of our third-floor walk-up apartment and shut the door behind me, I said to myself, “I like my values.”
Leeva was all about the pampered life, but I enjoyed earning my income and making my own way. My maw-maw had instilled a serious work ethic in me that made me feel pride and accomplishment for a job well done. It made me one of the best damn waitresses my café had ever seen too, if I did say so myself. So if that made me quirky, I figured so be it. Quirky was cool in my book.
Humming to the tune the busker was playing on the corner as I pushed from the front exit of the building on the ground floor, I hooked my mask into place and started down the street.
It’d been forever since I’d heard anyone play “Singin’ in the Rain,” and the saxophone rendered it perfectly. Made me want to click into a golden oldies station when I got home from work and see if I could watch a Gene Kelly movie.
I tossed some money into the instrument case as I passed, and the player winked at me in gratitude.
With the pandemic going on, the streets were fairly quiet. A few food trucks were unloading their wares in alleyways, and the rare couple walked past hand in hand for a morning stroll. Some were out walking dogs. But even the lone water truck on Bourbon looked like it was struggling to find something on the street to clean.
Work was only a few minutes away, in the heart of the French Quarter. I usually served the late crowd but I’d caught the midmorning shift this time around. Surprisingly, all the available tables were full by the time I entered through the front door, half of them purposely left empty for social distancing.
“Dori!” my coworker, Anthony, called as soon as he spotted me. His arms were full of plates loaded with pancakes, calas, grits, and sweet potatoes. “Thank God you’re here. We are hopping busy this morning. Whoa!”
One of the plates wobbled unsteadily in his arms, so I dived forward, calling, “Got it!” as I snagged it just before it toppled toward the floor.
Anthony froze a moment with his eyes closed before he blew out a breath and said, “Bless you, baby girl.”
“No problem,” I answered, relieving him of another plate. “This is what I do: serve meals and save the day.” Following him the rest of the way to his table, I assisted with distributing his load to bleary-eyed customers in dusty uniforms who looked as if they’d just gotten off a night shift.
“Enjoy your meal,” I told them with a smile, forgetting that they weren’t my customers.
One of the fellows perked up enough to give me a smile and a once-over, so I made sure to put a little extra bounce to my step when I turned away to stroll off.
It’d been almost a year since Alcée and I had split up. I needed to start putting myself out there as available again. The nights were starting to get lonely, and Leeva had her own life; she couldn’t be expected to keep me company as often as she did just because I was too gun-shy to trust myself with someone new.
“Dori!” the cook, Philippe, shouted from the back. “Are you on the clock?”
“Almost,” I called back and got my tush into gear, clocking in as quickly as possible, before adding, “Okay. Whatcha need?”
“Get some more rice from the supply room, will you, sweets?”
“On it.”
Time to save the day again. One bag of rice at a time.
I hurried to comply, then got to work, taking over for Babette, who was ready to go home.
Our café wasn’t one of the bigger-known establishments, but the locals were beginning to really enjoy what we had to offer. So I spent the next few hours on my feet, traveling from table to table, making sure everyone had what they needed.
It was satisfying work as long as the customers went away happy, so I usually made sure to shower them with the charm. The healthy tips told me I was doing a good job, aside from the few outliers that were impossible to please.
I was only about an hour away from the end of my shift when a commotion at the front drew my attention to a handful of people rushing through the entrance as if seeking a safe haven inside. More outside went flooding past on the sidewalk.
Pausing with a plate weighed down with a half-eaten meal, I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Riots,” one woman panted, out of breath as she clutched her diaphragm through each wheeze. “Over on Royal.”
Royal? Wasn’t that where Leeva said she’d be?
“No!” Setting the dirty plate on the side of a nearby table, I called to Anthony, “I’ll be right back!” And then I streaked toward the exit, chanting, “P
lease be safe, please be safe, please be safe.”
Most of the marches were peaceful, full of people with good intentions, but on those occasions that a bad seed entered the fray, they could turn scary and violent and life-threatening at the drop of a hat. I’d seen it happen. And I didn’t want my roommate anywhere near that.
Shouts and car horns sounded ahead as I raced down the sidewalk. My mask flew off as I sprinted, but I didn’t even pause to retrieve it. I had to find Leeva.
Flying around a corner, I skidded to a stop as I took in the chaos before me.
“No,” I breathed.
A mass of people surged one way, while another horde scattered, running in all different directions, protest signs waving madly in the air as they fled. Not far away, a car sat in flames, and glass broke in a nearby storefront as a brick sailed through it.
In the crux of it all, the police deployed smoke bombs and tear gas. I couldn’t say if the uproar had started because they had shown up, or they’d shown up because an uproar had begun. I guess it didn’t matter either way; this just needed to stop.
“Dori!” I heard a familiar shout.
Turning toward the call, I spotted my roommate rushing toward me, only half a block away, and relief flooded my veins.
I shouted back, crying her name just as something hit me on the side of the head.
It hurt. A lot.
I think I even blacked out for a bit because I felt myself falling but I don’t remember landing.
The next thing I recalled was this strange suction-type, flying sensation. Wind whipped at me as I flew—because I’m pretty sure I was flying, or maybe falling—at an incredible rate. When I managed to slit my eyes open, I saw darkness—like outer space kind of darkness—but there were also these crackling lights around me as if I were traveling through a tunnel of pure electricity.
It reminded me of the Bifrost bridge in the Marvel movies, except not quite as colorful. The electricity was mostly just a white-ish blue tint.
Tipping my head toward the warm wind rushing at me, I caught sight of the end of the tunnel approaching. It was full of blue sunlight, green vegetation, and a brown dirt road.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, bracing for impact because if I was launched through the opening of the tunnel at the same speed I was currently traveling, my landing was going to be painful. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled myself into a ball, bracing for impact.
If I’d just been sucked into Asgard or some such shit, then by God, Chris Hemsworth better be at the end of this thing.
I felt myself torpedo through the opening like a T-shirt ball shot out of a cannon gun at a football game. Screaming, I covered my arms over my head and then landed on hard dirt with a surprised umph.
Wow. That had been unpleasant but not the worst thing I’d ever experienced. I was still alive. Definitely good news. At least, I’m pretty sure I was still alive. I blinked at the dirt roadway under me.
Um, Toto, I thought. I’ve a feeling we’re not on Royal Street anymore.
“What…?” Pushing upright, I lifted my head and looked around. “What just happened?”
The hordes of police and protestors were gone. The buildings and entire city; totally disappeared. The only thing I found myself looking at was a miniature log cabin, like something Abraham Lincoln had been born in. Even stranger was the horse tied to a hitching post by the front door.
“Are you okay?” an accented voice asked—kind of an Australian accent, like Hemsworth Australian, maybe.
I whirled and gaped at the man before me. He had dark hair that was pulled back into a stubby ponytail at the base of his nape.
Like something straight out of a Renaissance fair, he wore short tight pants that cupped strong, muscled thighs and ended just where high black boots began. His shirt had puffy sleeves over the biceps but became tight again from his elbow to the wrists, and it was cinched at the waist with a thick belt that had a legitimate freaking sword hanging from it.
“Oh my good God.” I blinked at his attire once before lifting my shocked gaze to his face.
Tall and stately, his jaw was strong and angular, eyes a pale blue, and cheek pitted with a deep dimple when he tried to send me a comforting smile and reached out a hand. “Let me help you up.”
I blinked at his hand, then lifted my gaze back to his handsome face. “Well, you’re not Thor,” I realized bluntly. “But you’ll definitely do.”
Epilogue
Quilla
Four Moon Cycles Months Later
I woke on a comfortable mattress with the fluffiest pillow cushioning my head. The thin sheet on top of me was also the softest I’d ever felt, inducing me to groan in delight and give a refreshed stretch under the covers.
Still on Earth, I realized with a smile.
Opening my eyes, I blinked up at the ceiling fan slowly oscillating above me. The smell of hot apples spiced with cinnamon coaxed me into sitting up and glancing around the empty bedroom. Indigo must’ve been cooking again. He was becoming a pro at making pies.
Tossing off the blanket, I scooted from the bed and hummed appreciatively when my bare toes sank into plush carpet. This was the life, I decided. No hard bedrolls to contend with, no bugs to worry about crawling all over me on the ground, indoor plumbing everywhere, and electrically controlled temperatures galore. Who could ask for more?
Eager to find my true love to share it all with, I left the room and wandered down the hall, only to pause in the opening of the living room. With a smile, I rested my shoulder against the wooden framework and studied the sexy man stretched across the couch in the center of the room as he watched a movie in blue jeans, a T-shirt, and bare feet.
Damn, he looked good in Earth clothes.
He’d become quite a film buff in the past few weeks, too. I teased him about turning into a couch potato, but whenever I did, he only yanked me down on the sofa with him and curled his arms around me from behind so he could nibble on my ear and force me to watch the rest of his video with him.
“Indiana Jones?” I guessed, stepping into the room.
He jumped at my voice, then sat up with a smile as I approached. “I think Bison was right,” he announced. “I am an Indiana Jones. Or…” He paused thoughtfully for a moment. “At least, like, an early ancestor of his.”
I laughed and crawled onto his lap when he opened his arms to receive me.
“How was your nap?” he asked, running his hand over the short locks covering my head. He was growing obsessed with playing with the handful of curls I was getting.
“It was nice,” I answered. “But I’m beginning to feel lazy. I should—”
“Keep resting as much as you need to,” he interrupted, setting a finger over my lips as he warningly lifted an eyebrow. “The doctor said to get all the sleep you can. The first trimester can be particularly trying.”
I shook my head as I gazed at his striking features. “Look at you,” I had to murmur in amusement as I stroked his jaw. “Sounding all earthling-like and medically savvy.”
Grinning, he snagged my hand and kissed the knuckles. “The only thing I miss about the Outer Realms right now is not being able to heal you with a kiss.”
Not only had my magically sealed womb become open for business when we’d come to Earth, but true love’s kiss stopped being a thing here too. That had been a particularly hard pill for Indigo to swallow, especially after I had gotten pregnant. He wanted to heal me with his lips as soon as the baby was born and realizing he couldn’t hadn’t sat well with him.
“You never know,” I answered on a shrug. “We may be sucked back there before it’s born.”
I set my hand over my stomach, worrying about that very prospect. When we had realized our amulets were missing after arriving on Earth, we’d been wondering when we’d be forced to return.
My surprise pregnancy had only amped up our concerns.
Would the baby be born here, before we were sucked away? And if that were the case, would it never be able to see
us in the Outer Realms, always stuck here with Taiki and Melaina? And would it be better for the child if that did happen, even though we’d probably only get to see it half a year at a time? If that.
Or would it be born in the Outer Realms and forced to take on the Graykey curse with me? Would it even make it to birth if we were sucked back to the Outer Realms before it arrived? Or would my magically sealed womb try to reject it?
So many questions and not enough possible good outcomes.
We didn’t know what would happen. But we typically tried to avoid such conversations, already prepared to deal with whatever fate decided to unfold.
Indigo slid his hand over mine, and we cradled our unborn child together for a moment, the silence growing thick between us.
“We’ll be okay,” he assured me, kissing my temple. “All three of us. I can feel it.”
I nodded and glanced around, noticing the freshly baked pie sitting on the table in the dining area. “Were you waiting on me before taste testing this batch?”
“Of course.” Hitting pause on the movie, he slid me off his lap and stood, then snagged my hand as he pulled me up to my feet and led me to the table. “I can’t go eating pie alone, now can I?”
I smiled and sat when he pulled out a chair for me. “You just like to wait until I take the first bite to make sure I don’t toss up my accounts before you try it,” I teased.
“False,” he argued, feigning offense. “I take my bite at exactly the same time you do.”
“Oh, whatever.” I rolled my eyes as he dished up a single slice and set it on a plate. Then he handed me a fork.
When he picked up his own, we each watched the other intently as we reached out and scooped up our separate bites. I paused, squinting his way. He squinted mine. Then we moved in unison and tasted the pie at the same time.
I refused to react as I chewed, but Indigo closed his eyes and he moaned. “This,” he reported with a mouthful as he pointed at the rest of the pie left on his plate with his fork. “This is it. This is the best one yet.”