When Darkness Falls

by Chanda Stafford

  He chuckles. “I guess it probably was a little rusty.”

  I scan the room until I find Nico pushing his stool up to the kitchen counter so he can reach a package of cookies. “When you take him back, I want to go with you.”

  “Absolutely not.” Ian strides over, retrieves the cookies for the young boy, and opens the package before handing it to him.

  I push myself to my feet, frustration spurring me on. “Why not?” I hold up a finger to illustrate my point. “One, I’ve been there before. Two, I know about the portal and how it works, thus I can help you navigate. Three, I can think on my feet and help you get out of sticky situations. Four, Nico knows me. He’ll follow me even though he doesn’t understand English. And five is that you need someone to help you. You’re hurt, and you don’t have to do this alone. Besides . . .” I hesitate, hearing the tremor in my voice. “If it does lead us to your home, you need someone who can pull up the crystals so the pirates can’t come to this world.”

  Ian shakes his head before I finish speaking. “No. It’s simply too dangerous. You’re not coming with us. I forbid it.”

  Nico glances from one of us to the other, tensing up at the tone in Ian’s voice.

  I touch his arm. “Keep your voice down. You’re scaring him.”

  Ian glances at Nico, and his expression quickly turns into one of apology. “I’m sorry.” He says something to Nico, and the boy relaxes, sinking into his chair, crumbling chocolate chip cookies in hand. Ian turns to me. “But the answer is still no. I won’t risk it.”

  Finally full, Nico joins us in the living room and crawls up next to me on the couch. He rests his head against my shoulder and within minutes, he’s asleep. “Poor little guy,” I murmur. “He’s been through so much.”

  Ian stretches his arm across the back of the couch. “I promise you. I will do my best to make sure he has a good life.”

  “What about you?”

  His fingers trace my shoulder down to where it meets with Nico’s head. “What about me?”

  “What about your future?” I sound so pathetic, I mentally kick myself.

  “I don’t know.” His voice cracks. “But I need to go home. I yearn for it more than I want my next breath, more than I want my heart to beat. It’s . . .” He pauses. “It’s something I simply have to do.”

  He stares down at Nico. “The last thing I said to my father was that I didn’t need him. I could do things myself, and that was that. I can’t take it back, but if there is even the slightest chance I can see him again, I have to try.”

  His desperation draws me in. “How can I help?”

  “You already have simply by reminding me that it is possible to go home; that it’s not a fool’s mission.”

  “I want to do something, anything.”

  His sad smile tears at my heart a little bit more. “There is nothing you can do for me now that I can’t accomplish for myself.” His words cut me, but his tone is gentle. “You need to live your life here. Where I’m from, and where I’m going, there’s no place for you.”

  “But—”

  He puts a finger to my lips to stop me. “Stop, please. You know I’m right.”

  A wooden cuckoo clock above the mantle chirps the new hour. “Oh God, have I been here that long?” Phoebe must be furious. “I have to go back to the diner.”

  Ian nods. “Go, I’ll take care of him from here.”

  I slowly slide out from under Nico’s head and lay the boy down on the couch. He stirs once but soon settles into a deep sleep. Ian stands up and leads me to the door.

  “When are you going to leave?”

  “In a couple days. I want to get everything ready, so I’ll probably go during the weekend.”

  I eye him suspiciously. “You’re not going to leave without saying good-bye first, are you?”

  He shakes his head. “Of course not. I have friends here, not just enemies, and they deserve to know what’s going on. Besides, I’ll stabilize the portal, just in case it changed locations.”

  “If the portal takes you home, that’s it then, isn’t it?” I hate myself for the weakness in my voice, but I can’t hide it. I’ve only known him such a short time, but he’s already someone that I can’t imagine not being a part of my life. It’s as if he’s a magnet, and I’m a piece of iron.

  Pain twists his features, and he reaches up to stroke my cheek. “Yes. I’m sorry, Austen, but I don’t belong here anymore than Nico.”

  I open my mouth to argue but no words come out. There aren’t any because, once again, he’s right. Ian’s carved a place for himself here in our corner of the world, but if I look close enough, I can see the fissures and cracks, and underneath it, he’s as foreign and alien as the pterodactyls and the monsters outside.

  ***

  That night, I dream of pirates and little boys with dark, soulful eyes and a young man with an old soul who spins glass from thin air, making wings to fly away.

  Chapter 14

  Despite his assurances that he wouldn’t leave right away, I figure Ian will try to sneak away before the weekend, probably just to keep me from following him. He has no idea how stubborn I can be. Besides, I’ve been to that island before. I know those pirates. Well, as much as anyone can who doesn’t speak their language. I know their camp, what supplies they have and, even more importantly, I know how to get away.

  I push away the thought that this might be the last time I ever see him again, because I can’t dwell on that right now. I have to focus on something other than myself, and helping Nico serves that purpose perfectly.

  After I finish closing up the diner, I go home, shower, change, and scrounge around my cupboards for some supplies. I end up with a can of pepper spray, which would have come in handy the last time I went through the portal, my mom’s car keys, a bottle of water, and a few granola bars. It’s not much, but it’s easy to carry, so I stuff it all in my pockets, except for the water.

  Holding my breath, I creep out the back door. Guilt at my deception nags at me, but I remind myself that if it helps Ian or Nico, then it’s worth my mom’s wrath.

  Once I maneuver the car far enough away, I flick on the lights and drive to the side road that leads to the camp. Praying that Phoebe’s asleep and that I won’t get caught, I park just up the road from the camp.

  Her vehicle sits empty and dark next to the rec center. After waiting a couple minutes to make sure I’m alone, I slink up to it and try the driver’s side handle. The door clicks open, and the interior light floods the inside of the Jeep.

  Yes! Finally something’s going right. I reach in and fumble around the visor for the remote to Ian’s gate. Once I have that, I slip it into my pocket and jog back to my mom’s car. This might actually work after all.

  I use the same sneaky approach to get close to the lighthouse. I park just outside of view, and situate myself outside the clearing under the cover of the trees. I don’t think Ian can see me with all this brush in the way, but I have a pretty good line of sight from the lighthouse to the cave. Something rustles behind me, and I whirl around, sure it’s another grotesque creature of some sort, but it’s only a little brown bird hopping through the leaves and undergrowth.

  “Idiot,” I mutter. “It’s just a bird.” Who knows, maybe Ian will say good-bye to me. Maybe he won’t sneak off and try to do this alone in some misguided attempt to protect everyone. The thought makes me chuckle. Sure enough, as the first tendrils of light streak across the sky, the front door to the lighthouse opens and first Nico then Ian slip out.

  “Thanks for keeping your promise.” I stand up and stretch, stiff from hiding for so long. There. Now I feel better. Feeling rejuvenated, I creep toward Ian and Nico.

  At the entrance to the cave, Ian crouches down and clasps Nico’s shoulders. He talks to him in that strange ancient language they share before standing up again. Then he turns to survey the clearing.

  I wait until his gaze passes my hiding spot before sneaking closer.

  Ian and Ni
co disappear into the narrow fissure between the rocks, and I hurry after them. When I get to the entrance, I pause, listening intently for any sound within. Nothing. Good. Hopefully it’s safe to enter.

  I slip into the darkness that I vowed never to return to. Once inside, I press myself against the damp walls, my heart hammering in my chest. Don’t screw this up. There’s more than your life at stake if you do.

  The glowing crystals around the portal reveal an otherwise empty cave. My stomach drops. They must have already gone through. I hope they went to the island and not someplace with man-eating gerbils.

  I approach the portal, eyeing the glowing, swirling crevice with distrust. Would I have gone through it if I’d known where it would take me? If it weren’t for that monster following me into the cave, of course not. But guilt overrides caution when I think of Nico. I have to make sure he has a better life than the one he left behind.

  I take a deep breath and step into the portal.

  Traveling between worlds is a disconcerting experience. One second I’m on my side, my feet planted firmly in my reality, then I step through something thick and rubbery, an in between place, and then I’m on the other side. I trip on a rock and tumble to the ground, rocks digging into my hands. I need to work on my dismount if I’m going to keep doing the time travel thing.

  As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I hear a couple of voices. One voice is deep and familiar; the other so very young and innocent. I start to call out to them but don’t. Something doesn’t feel right. Other voices swell over the gently lapping water. The pirates. Ian was right. Maybe I should have stayed on the other side of the portal.

  I inch closer to the cave’s entrance as a litany of curses erupts, and Nico cries out.

  My heart lurches, and it’s all I can do to keep from charging out there, essentially unarmed, to try to save the day. I duck out of the cave, and shade my eyes against the blinding sun until they adjust. When I slink around the side of the cliff, I see about a dozen pirates standing in a circle on the beach. Two of them rummage through Ian’s bag, tossing his supplies into the salty water. Ian crouches in front of Nico, protecting the boy from the closest pirates.

  One of the goons, the man I called Pizza Face, hands the captain, Ian’s ley line detector. The captain flicks a few of the wires and examines the frayed edge of the duct tape. He barks a command at Ian, who refuses to say anything. Angered by his silence, the captain flings the device into the side of the rock wall, shattering it.

  The pirates hand the captain a pair of shiny curved blades, which he pockets, and what looks like a hand grenade. Ian stiffens as the captain’s meaty finger curls around the pin, but he relaxes when the pirate chucks the whole thing into the sea.

  The bag empty, captain returns his focus to Ian and stalks toward him. When the captain gets within a couple feet of him, Ian spits on him. The other pirates stop their joking and stare at them. I don’t need to know anything about ancient Grecian culture to know that wasn’t a good idea.

  Faster than I would have thought possible, the pirate captain pulls a dagger from a sheath at his waist and presses it into Ian’s neck. My stomach churns when I see a deep-red rivulet of blood trickle down his neck.

  The captain leans close and growls something to Ian, who stiffens and glares at him. My heart jumps in my chest. Ian better watch it. He doesn’t stand a chance against these men.

  When Ian doesn’t respond, the captain turns on his heels and storms off, flicking his hand at one of his pirate cohorts.

  The pirates wrench Ian’s arms behind him and bind them with thick rope. That’s got to hurt, especially with his injury. Another of the pirates picks Nico up and throws him over his shoulder.

  As they follow their captain, one of the men kicks Ian in the back of his knee, roaring with laughter when he topples to the ground. Ian staggers to his feet, unwilling to show any weakness, even though there’s a growing red splotch on his side. Phoebe’s stitches must have ripped out.

  My feet itch to go after them and rescue them right now, but I stay still. I won’t be any good to them if the pirates capture me, too. I simply watch, vibrating with anger, as the pirates prod Ian forward and hike toward their camp.

  I follow the procession into the trees toward the other beach where the ship is anchored. They march to the center tent, the captain’s quarters, and Ian, Nico, and the captain disappear inside. A couple of men stand guard, no doubt to prevent another escape.

  As evening falls, the pirates begin to celebrate. They build another bonfire, even bigger than the last one I saw. From about ten yards away, I watch them passing around bottles and leather canteens.

  Feeling bolder, I scan the nearby forest for a weapon. The best I can come up with is a couple of sharp sticks. I use seaweed to tie the sticks together, forming a two-pronged spear. Ian would probably laugh at me if he saw my pitiful defense, but it’s better than nothing. After I find more sticks and a bunch of sharp rocks, I plant them upright at each of the trailheads. As far as traps go, they’re pretty terrible, but if I’m lucky, they’ll at least slow down the pirates.

  I head back to the beach to look for some fish bones or sharp seashells. While I’m scouring the seaweed and the few creatures that washed ashore with the tide, I feel a piercing sting on my foot. I stumble and search the ground in the dim light. A glimmer of moonlight reflects on something gelatinous. I didn’t know they had jellyfish in ancient Greece.

  I grab a stick and poke the thing, but it doesn’t move. This might work better than the sharp sticks and rocks. Careful not to touch the tendrils, I use a couple of twigs like chopsticks and pick up the dead creature. After searching the rest of the beach, I find six more to add to the pile. They’re not very large, only about the size of a grapefruit, but the sticky tentacles stretch out far enough to cross the narrow paths leading away from the pirate’s camp.

  Using my sticks, I carry them one by one and string the tentacles from the branches about head height on the path. Thank God they’re sticky enough to stay there on their own, I’m certainly not going to tie them there. With any luck, our pursuers will run straight into them. It won’t knock them out or anything, but it’s better than nothing.

  As the moon sinks toward the horizon, I watch the camp. The fire has died to embers, and most of the pirates are passed out or sleeping, except for the two guards outside the captain’s tent.

  I clench the makeshift spear in one hand and crouch down, channeling my inner Xena, Warrior Princess. I can do this.

  Sticking to the shadows, I weave through the tents until I get to the one in the middle. At the back, I dig my fingers into the sand and feel around, praying that they didn’t find the tear Nico and I used to escape. Relief fills me when my fingers snag against it. This might work after all.

  I wriggle my hands through the opening, stretching it as wide as I can. There. That should be wide enough for Ian to get through. I roll the spear in first, and then follow it. You can do this, Austen. Just don’t make any noise. Once I’m fully inside the tent, I wait for a few seconds to see if the pirate captain heard me before I crawl to the edge of the bed and peek around.

  The inside of the captain’s quarters looks the same way except it’s the guys who are tied up in the middle, not me. Ian’s sitting in a chair, and the captain paces in front of him. Nico’s slumped over on the ground, but I can’t tell if he’s sleeping or unconscious. Rage boils within me when I notice the bruise darkening the boy’s face.

  Ian catches sight of me. His eyes widen, and his mouth forms a silent, “No.” But it’s too late. The captain spins around, an ugly sneer twisting his face. “Págoma!”

  I freeze, hands in the air as they do on all those cop shows.

  The pirate captain swaggers toward me. The lanterns cast an eerie light in his eyes, but the shadows can’t hide his glee. He yells out the front of the tent and a couple of goons rush in. They grab my arms and jerk them behind my back, securing them with rope. Crap.

  One of the
pirates finds my makeshift spear and hands it to the captain. The captain waves it in the air and laughs before saying something to Ian. The skin around Ian’s eyes tightens, and his lips press into a firm line.

  One of the pirates yanks Ian to his feet and another scoops up Nico. Ian’s gaze meets mine before they drag him out. For the first time, I see a real fear in his eyes.

  As my trepidation builds, the pirates lead us to a smaller tent on the perimeter of the camp. They shove Ian and Nico inside. “Íxera óti tha érthei píso,” the captain barks what sounds like a command of some sort.

  Ian swears under his breath, and Nico whimpers. In full view of his captives, the captain strokes a loose tendril of my fiery hair. He brings the lock to his nose and inhales, smiling. Disgusting. I have got to get out of here. I have no idea why he’s obsessed with my hair, but I’m sick of it. If I ever get home, I’m shaving my head, I swear it.

  I crack him on the forehead as hard as I can with my head. The pirate captain roars and shoves me against a stack of heavy crates. Pain rushes from my arm up to my shoulder. Something snaps and darkness clouds my vision. I can’t move, I can’t think.

  “Austen, Síko!”

  I snap my eyes open. Ian leaps to his feet, struggling against the restraints, and throws himself at the pirates. They try to restrain him, but he’s like a wild man, thrashing, kicking, and biting.

  “Austen, Síko,” a little voice beside me insists. I tear my gaze away from Ian to see Nico gesturing to me from the shadows. “Síko!”

  Ian grunts, and I turn in time to see one of the big goons on his back, crushing him into the ground. Another pirate carries more rope, and the captain stands aside, barking orders at his men.

  Nico nudges me with his foot as Ian’s gaze collides with mine. Even though he must be in pain and terrified, his lips form one word: run.

  So I do.

  Chapter 15

  Nico and I rush through the trees. At first, I hear the crashing sounds of the men chasing us, but then their yells turn to yelps as they encounter the surprises I’d left for them. A thread of pride chases away some of the agony from my broken arm.