“Well, beam me back, Scotty, because I don’t want to be here.” She’d had enough of this train wreck. Either Charlie was crazy, or the stuff he’d injected had taken her on a trip to write up in The Junkies’ Home Journal.
“Jane, there is no way back. The portal has closed.” His eyes—brown, she noticed—filled with empathy.
“Portals don’t close on their own. Turn the key or cast a spell or do whatever you elves do to open it back up.” Jane blinked her eyes, hoping sanity would return.
No such luck. Giant trees still loomed over them. Too much green and too many leaves for the beginning of April told her she’d been transported to another season, as well.
Charlie watched her.
“Are you ready?” he asked with a touch of impatience.
She shook her pounding head. “Not until I get some answers. Who are you?”
“Charles of Sylthia.”
“A lawyer?”
He nodded.
“An elf lawyer?”
“Technically, not an elf. I’m a Whelphite.”
“And what,” she asked slowly, “is a Whelphite?”
“Half elf, half fairy-sprite. Interspecies breeding is not uncommon on Lowth.”
Jane took a step back. “Uh-huh. Don’t get any ideas about breeding with this species, buddy. I’ll show you a Klingon choke hold you won’t forget for a while.”
His brow wrinkled. “I’m not—”
“Familiar with that name,” she finished for him, feeling exasperated. Jeez. Did the guy live in a time capsule or something? “I suppose you have some proof of this preposterous claim of yours?”
In answer, Charlie reached up and removed the wool cap he’d been wearing. She first noticed his hair, gold and long—like Legolas, from the Lord of the Rings movies. The next thing she saw went right along with the first: two pointed ears.
What kind of whacked-out Trekkie had picked her up? She hoped his ears were silicone, not the result of some sick mutilation surgery.
“Nice ears, Spock. Buy them at a convention?” At his look of puzzlement, she waved away the comment. “Never mind. Obviously, they don’t have television on Lowth. I’ll tell you about it sometime over a cappuccino. That explains the elf half of being a Whelphite. I suppose you have proof of the fairy half?”
He frowned. “You won’t take my word for it?”
“The word of a drug-addicted white slaver who thinks he’s an elf? Riiight.” Jane snapped her fingers, feeling a twinge in her shoulder at the movement. “Cough up it, Keebler.”
“You’re not going to be satisfied until you’ve seen it all, are you?” he asked, arms crossed in front of him.
“Nope. I’m not budging another step. Don’t even think about sprinkling any pixie dust on me, either.”
Charlie glared at her, then softly swore. He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt. “I don’t do this for everyone,” he grumbled, shrugging them off. “And it’s still cold out.”
“I don’t get to see a fairy strip every day, either. Too bad I don’t have any dollar bills on me.” She tried not to think of her purse, a charred piece of imitation leather somewhere in another world. Or, outside this hallucination.
Charlie’s physique, however, wasn’t an illusion. He wasn’t thin and scrawny as she’d first thought, but simply of a slight build. It had been a long time since Jane had seen a man’s chest, and he had a nice one: chiseled, with golden threads of hair sprinkled across it. Hoo-boy. She was about to let loose with a hoot when he turned his back to her. A pair of glimmering, almost transparent wings unfurled, catching in the morning breeze.
Jane fainted.
Chapter Two
Jane woke to the smell of pine. It tickled her nostrils and made her want to sneeze. Intending to suppress it, she moved her hand in the general vicinity of her nose. On the way, her fingers brushed against something. Someone, she realized. Her eyes snapped open.
Charlie. Elf-man extraordinaire. His face wavered like the start of a cheesy dream sequence in a sitcom. Light filtered through leaves above him.
“Are we flying?” Jane asked.
“No,” he said. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Jane had a feeling he didn’t smile too often and had to stop and read the instructions when he did. “You fainted.”
“Fainted? Ridiculous. I never faint.” She touched her head to explore for bumps and found a large one over her right eye. It throbbed like a bad rap song. “Must be from that drug you gave me.”
“You fainted,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “It’s the third time you’ve been unconscious since I met you.”
“And none of them my fault,” Jane corrected. She struggled to sit, noticing for the first time that she lay on the forest floor and Charlie knelt beside her. He extended a hand. She accepted his offer and swayed to regain her footing.
“Your friend Tivat threw himself in front of my car, then you shot me up with happy juice, then you surprised me with your wings. I’m the most unfaintiest person you’ll ever meet.”
Jane glanced around cautiously. Forest surrounded them, the trees as wide as her Neon, God rest its charred soul, and rising two hundred or more feet in the air. Fern-like plants crowded their bases and spilled into the path.
She swung her gaze in Charlie’s direction. “These trees won’t throw apples at me or anything, will they?”
He wrinkled his brow. “Why would they do that? Is that what the trees do in your world?”
“Only in the movies, Charlie, only in the movies.” At his perplexed look, she added, “Remind me to tell you about it sometime.”
Jane rolled up the sleeves of the jacket he must have put on her. She noticed as she did that he had his shirt on again, his wings no doubt folded underneath like a Japanese fan. Too bad. He had a nice body.
“Do you really have wings?” she asked, unsure she’d seen them now that she’d had time to think. So many strange things had happened to her tonight.
“Yes, I really do,” he confirmed. His eyes, the color of coffee with two creams, filled with amusement.
Kind of cute when he isn’t being so serious. Jane stuck her hands in the pockets of her slacks. “I don’t suppose you’d let me see them again, would you?”
He looked baffled, as though women didn’t ask him to undress every day. Which, come to think of it, they probably didn’t.
She did her best Scarlett O’Hara impression, fluttering her Revlon-enhanced eyelashes at him. “Please, Charlie?”
“Certainly not.” His voice huffy, he took a step back. “I only showed you the first time to prove my point.”
The prude returns. “Oh, good grief. You act like I want you to audition for the Chippendales.” At his usual look of puzzlement, she added, “I don’t want to see you naked.”
Partial truths for one hundred, Alex. She did want another peek at the chest she’d swooned over. Nicely sculpted, if she remembered correctly. As for his wings, she wondered what they felt like. Hoo-boy, did it always get this hot in Lowth, or had her part-time job affected her libido?
Charlie blushed. Charming, she decided. She didn’t meet many men, and none of the ones she knew would be un-macho enough to blush.
“I didn’t think you did, Jane Drysdale.”
Back to the full name. She must have upset him more than she’d realized. Trying not to discomfort him again, she gestured ahead. “What’s next?” she asked.
“We’re almost to Sylthia,” Charlie said, starting up the path, his relief obvious from his haste. He motioned for her to follow.
“Right. Sylthia. Elven city of mystery. Or is that elfish?” She followed alongside and attempted to keep up.
“Elven,” he replied. “And the mystery we have does not concern the city. At least, not directly.”
Her ears perked up. She slowed. “Mystery? What mystery?”
He glanced at her, adjusting his stride. “You must concentrate on your own problems.”
She scratched her nose, which had b
egun to itch again. “Such as?”
“The murder trial.”
“Oh, right. That.” She’d killed a bunny. Correction, an elf. Tivat. She wondered what he’d been like and why he’d chosen that moment to dive under her tires.
“You hadn’t forgotten it?”
“In one of my many moments of elf-induced coma?” She sneezed and shook her head soberly. “Not hardly. But I have complete confidence in you, Charlie-defender-of-mortals. You’ve probably memorized every law volume in Elfdom—excuse me, Lowth. You do have books, don’t you?”
“Of course we do.” He looked at her, his gaze steady. She’d bet he never got in a fight with anyone. An odd profession he’d picked, then. A thought crossed her mind, chilling her.
“Charlie, what kind of lawyer are you?”
He looked uncomfortable and did not meet her eyes. After a moment he replied, “Trade agreements. Some family practice.”
Shock ran through her. She stopped in her tracks, one hand on her hip. “You’re not a criminal lawyer?”
Charlie shook his head. “We don’t have much crime on Lowth. Petty burglaries, an occasional break-in.”
Jane couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you saying,” she asked, trying to keep her panic in check, “that you’ve never defended anyone in a murder trial?”
He looked over her left shoulder, avoiding her eyes. “The last murder happened two years ago.”
“Great, just great.” She threw up her hands in exasperation and paced the trail. “You might as well lock me up in Elfcatraz now. I have no hope of getting free, let alone back to the real world. I knock over an elf in full view of six witnesses, the judicial system is rusted through with holes, and my defense attorney was in high school when they tried the last murderer.”
“I was twenty-five,” Charlie corrected. “I remember it well.”
“I’m doomed,” she said, finally buying into his story. A cool breeze ruffled her hair and continued downward to blast her heart. He meant what he said. Even scarier, she’d started to believe him. Murder? Her?
Jane took a step forward and caught her slacks on one of the ferns that littered the path. As she jerked free, the pungent smell of pine hit her again and made her sneeze.
“What is this stuff?” she asked when she recovered. The delicate lace plant had taken on the characteristics of a Stephen King creation.
Charlie touched one of the leaves. “Bellefern. A rogue weed. It’s taken over everywhere.”
“Too bad you don’t have Weed ’N Feed here.” She brushed green dust off her slacks.
As usual, he looked confused.
Jane moved up the path. Action kept her from thinking too deeply about this mess. “What happens when we get to Sylthia?” They had been “almost there” for the last half hour. Of course, she’d delayed them with fainting and the drug coma thing. Inconsiderate of her, she knew. “Do I go on trial right away, or is breakfast my last meal?”
“You will have many meals,” Charlie said with confidence.
“Yes? Why is that?”
“Because there is no body.”
The human woman didn’t say anything for a moment, which came as a welcome relief to Charlie. Growing up with three sisters, he knew how long and convoluted women’s stories could be. But this one, this Jane Drysdale, hadn’t stopped yapping since he met her. Half the time, he didn’t understand what she said. She referred to things of which he had no knowledge. He’d be glad when he could hand her over to Eagar, steward of Sylthia castle, and go home.
Charlie glanced at her and noticed how much of a prisoner she looked already. Her green eyes sported purple bruises above them, the largest on her right temple. Bits of leaves stuck in her short brown curls, making her look like a demented Spriggan. Stains and a small rip in her clothes completed the disheveled effect. She smelled of smoke.
So did he, he imagined. Just his luck to be on community duty when Tivat, arrested for stealing sheep, had escaped and gone through the portal. Otherwise Charlie would be home now, instead of making the last leg to Sylthia with a crazy woman. And saddled with defending her! Maybe, if she kept her mouth shut—
“No body?” she asked. “Bunny body or elf body?”
Charlie didn’t want to go into the intricacies of shape-shifting, or the effects of death on someone caught in another form.
“We didn’t have much time to look. The fire would bring other mortals, and we couldn’t risk discovery. We’d already taken a chance, coming so far. The portal is unstable at the best of times. It had started to weaken after the explosion. You had to be on the other side before that happened.”
She moved in a circle around him. “They have no proof? Then you have to take me home. Case closed, problem solved, I’m free to go.”
She didn’t understand. “No, you have to go on trial.”
“But you don’t even know if the bunny was Tivat. There are thousands of rabbits in Walker.”
“We tracked him from Lowth. We had him in sight when that machine of yours rushed from nowhere and hit him.”
“Hit him, yes. Killed him? No one stayed around long enough to find out. Maybe I just grazed him.” She pulled on Charlie’s arm, tugging him the way they’d come. “Take me back. Even if I killed him—and you can’t prove I did—you’d crossed the state line. It was outside your jurisdiction.”
Charlie shook his head. “I know my duty. There will be a trial, I’ll get you off, and we’ll proceed from there.” She didn’t need to know now that the portal had a mind of its own and might refuse her entry.
Her brows knitted. “How can you be my lawyer if you saw it happen? Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
“At any other time—”
“I don’t want to hear about another time. Let’s talk about now.” She tapped her foot on the dirt trail.
He sighed. She might as well hear everything. “I was last in line. I didn’t see the murder. Jaspar, the one who helped you from your car, is the team leader. He declared me a nonwitness and your lawyer in the same breath.”
She shook her head. “And they trust you to bring me in? Who’s to say you can’t look away for a minute, and I’ll disappear?”
Charlie bristled. “Do you think me dishonest? That I would break the laws of the land I love?”
Her eyes flashed. “Excuse me, Mr. Rules, I thought you were on my side. You don’t want this any more than I do.”
His thought exactly. He’d never met anyone who made him feel awkward the way she did. Talking about wings and nakedness—the idea! The sooner she disappeared from his life, the sooner he could get back to his routine.
“I’m sorry,” he said, placing their fates together. “I really don’t have a choice. I’m bound to the law.”
She regarded him for several moments before nodding. Some of the fire faded from her eyes. “All right,” she acquiesced. “How long can it take? A day or two? I don’t have any parties booked until Thursday. It will be like watching the Discovery Channel. ‘The Secret Lives of Elves.’ ”
A few minutes later, they came to the edge of the great Malin Forest. The Sentinel, the largest tree in this part of the Malin, stood before them. One of the last of the old growth, it towered over everything. It had watched Charlie’s ancestors build Sylthia thousands of years before. Only the Groke, in Malik Forest, stood taller.
“Wow,” Jane said, craning her neck so far Charlie thought she’d topple over. “That is one whale of a tree.”
He didn’t know what a whale was, but it must be enormous in her world.
“Touch it.” At her quizzical look, he took her hand and laid it on the well-worn bark. “It’s good luck.”
“I can understand luck.” She rubbed the trunk. “Come on, seven. Momma needs a new pair of shoes.”
Puzzled, Charlie looked at her footwear.
“Not literally,” Jane admonished. She looped her arm through his, startling him with her familiarity. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.” She returned to the pa
th to continue their journey, but stopped in her tracks.
“A castle,” she whispered in awe.
“Sylthia,” Charlie corrected. He followed her gaze to his favorite view in the world.
It lay on the other side of a vast plain of hardscrabble rock that had served as defense and battleground in the old times. Rising from the foundation of a hundred-foot plateau, it stretched another two hundred feet into the sky. Unseen from this angle, Charlie knew the other side plunged to the sea and boulders as big as houses. Impenetrable, it had been home to the Malin family of Elves for centuries.
“Walt Disney, eat your heart out,” Jane said. “What a lucky man you are, Charlie, to have such a place to live.”
He felt the warm glow that only Sylthia could give him. He’d come to it as a foundling. The city meant as much to him as his adopted family, maybe more. One of the reasons he’d chosen to be a lawyer was to protect it with the fair interpretation of its laws.
“It’s your home now, Jane,” he said, catching sight of Hugh, his adopted brother, driving a pony-pulled wagon. Eagar accompanied him. Neither looked worried about Charlie’s delay in bringing the prisoner Jane to the place of her trial and possible execution.
Her home? Not by a long shot. As soon as this farce was over, she would head out. If she couldn’t convince Charlie to take her, there ought to be an elf version of Han Solo she could hire to get her back through the portal.
Moving closer to Charlie, Jane eyed the two strangers who neared. So far, Charlie had been her only contact with Sylthia and Lowth, and she’d like to keep it that way. At least, until tomorrow morning when she woke up in intensive care, her head bandaged from her severe concussion.
“Who are they?” she asked her companion.
“The younger is my brother Hugh.”
Hugh was the stereotype in every drawing Jane had ever seen of an elf. He had pointed ears, dark hair and skin, and a stockier build than his brother. They looked nothing alike.
“And the other?” A cold chill not caused by the weather made Jane hug the jacket around her. The smell of woods and smoke drifted from it.
What Do You Say to a Naked Elf? Page 2
