The Spaces Between Us

by Ethan Johnson

  She reached up with her free hand and turned the page of a spiral notebook that was spread out on the table before her. Agnes’s knit bag laid in a heap just beyond her reach. Agnes dropped her mug, breaking it into six pieces.

  CHAPTER 37: ARISEN

  For someone who didn’t travel much, Marc had put on quite a bit of mileage since his candle and incense ritual, which defied his comprehension. The voice that goaded him to do it belonged to the naked olive-skinned beauty that laid contentedly against him in a strange bed. He looked around the room. Where exactly was this? Maybe more to the point, when?

  He and Inanna laid upon a grand bed, framed out in polished dark wood with luxurious eggshell linens bunched up around them. He rubbed the fitted sheet with his free hand—he always kept one pressed against Inanna, lest she float away—and suddenly realized why people make such a big deal about thread counts. Flannel sheets were going to be quite a downgrade after this. But Inanna would share his unassuming bed just the same, he hoped, so thread counts were the least of his concerns.

  The sun had risen and the curtains let in enough light to allow for some inspection of his surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished, but elegant. A large urn was placed opposite from the bed. Long reeds poked out and arced toward a steel and glass bookcase that mostly displayed small decorative objects, and a square wooden box with a thin iron hasp. No framed artwork hung on the walls. Fabrics were hung at intervals from thick rods with large finials.

  He looked to either side of him and saw stone statues in either corner. One was an anatomically correct man that appeared to be approaching middle age, seated on a marble pedestal. He seemed to be sitting on a toilet. Marc thought his full bladder was probably doing whatever it took to get his attention. The other corner featured a middle-aged woman wearing something like a bathrobe, with a face frozen in horror, arms raised to head-level, as if trying to shield her eyes from something. Whoever decorated this room had strange taste in art, he concluded.

  Nature called. He wriggled free from Inanna. He stepped out of the bedroom and tiptoed around, looking for the bathroom. A few doors later, he found it. He snapped on the light and let out an involuntary, “Holy crap!”

  The bathroom was rather plush. The walls and floors were marble. The toilet seemed standard issue, but as he tended to his morning business he marveled at everything else. The towel bars appeared to be pure gold. Marc squinted at the dazzling gleam off the one closest to his line of sight.

  After flushing, he went to the sink. The counter top looked like marble. He rapped on it hesitantly with his knuckles. The sink fixtures appeared to be gold with lustrous pearl accents. Wherever he was, somebody was full-on loaded. He thought opulence like this was only found in places like Beverly Hills. He had never been there, but TV seemed to reinforce this as a universally accepted truth.

  He washed his hands and splashed water on his face. For all he knew, the part of water was being played by liquefied platinum. He dried his hands on the most luxurious hand towel he had ever felt in his life. He felt as though he could fall into it and land on a bed of clouds. He switched off the light and found his room once more.

  Inanna was sitting upright in bed. The sight of her was immediately reassuring. Still not a dream, he thought. That bathroom wasn’t helping him reconcile any sort of objective reality. Then again, he thought happily, who cared? She was beckoning him to the bed. Today was going to be a great day.

  He kissed Inanna. Her luscious lips met his own; less exotic but perfectly serviceable. She moaned softly and pressed in against him. She forced him down onto his back and straddled him with a look of unbridled desire and wanting.

  “Again? You’re incredible.”

  She smiled and said something incomprehensible.

  Marc shook his head. “What’s that, now?”

  She leaned in and smothered him with kisses. That’s what, he figured. Minutes later, she rolled onto her back, and Marc stared up triumphantly at the ceiling. He thought he should defy every law of known physics more often. Maybe all the women in Nineveh were like this.

  “Wow, that was amazing,” he panted.

  A well-dressed, impeccably groomed gentleman leaned over the bed. “You will join me for breakfast.”

  Marc yelped and pulled a sheet over himself. Inanna just propped up on one elbow and gave her brother a smoldering wink. Then she said some gibberish to him. He said gibberish back.

  “Have I forgotten all of the English language this morning?” Marc swiveled his head and looked incredulously at Tobias and Inanna.

  Tobias smiled. “Please… dress yourself. We shall dine soon.”

  Marc nodded. Inanna smiled.

  Tobias gestured toward the door. Two servants dressed in sand colored tunics and billowy pants entered bearing bundles of dark fabric on bronze trays, topped with matching slippers. They set them down on the edge of the bed, bowed to Tobias, and left. Tobias nodded to the two lovers and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  A few minutes later, they emerged single-file from the room, hand-in-hand, dressed in black robes with red silken cuffs and linings. Their slippers tapped on the bare floor. They were halfway down the hallway when Marc’s arm got tugged sharply backward. Inanna said something completely nonsensical. A female servant escorted her into the bathroom.

  Marc stood outside, waiting patiently.

  Moments later, they continued their trek down the hallway. It emptied out into an oversized room, that seemed to stretch three stories high. Marc couldn’t see out of the bay window, but he did see a large expanse of water.

  Tobias rose from his seat at a long polished-wood dining table. He gestured to the seats closest to him. Marc sat to his right. He expected Inanna to take the seat to his left, but instead she knelt on the floor behind Marc, bowing her head subserviently. Tobias smiled apologetically. He clapped his hands and pointed to the seat next to Marc. She rose to her feet slowly and obeyed.

  “Please forgive my sister. She is not yet accustomed to these times. I have been taught much but have much more to learn about your world.”

  Marc nodded and decided to be brave. “Why isn’t she speaking English anymore?”

  Tobias waited for a servant to place a plate of food before each of them. Glasses of water followed by way of another servant, in cut crystal goblets. The servants left the room in silence.

  Tobias smiled and said, “Why aren’t you speaking in our tongue?”

  Marc recoiled. “Excuse me? You both were speaking perfect English last night. What changed?”

  Tobias sipped his water and set the glass down softly. “We spoke no English.”

  Marc looked around uncomfortably. He tried to loosen up and used his fork to point at his water glass. “Got any coffee?”

  Tobias looked perplexed.

  “You know, java? Wake-up juice? Caffeine?”

  Tobias frowned, and clapped his hands twice. His head servant entered the room and leaned in as Tobias conferred with him and struggled with the pronunciation of “coffee”. The servant’s eyes darted to Marc, who in turn grimaced at the trouble he was causing for his host. The servant nodded and bowed and returned to the kitchen. Tobias smiled pleasantly at Marc.

  “It’s okay, I didn’t mean to put you to any trouble,” Marc said, waving his hands.

  Tobias looked up expectantly as the servant returned with a hot ceramic mug, which he placed before Marc, then stood to one side and waited. The mug was plain white with MERCURIO-ATLAN etched into the side. Marc leaned forward and sniffed the brew. The aroma wafted up his nose and stimulated pleasure centers in his brain that Inanna apparently could not reach. He took a hesitant sip and let out a satisfied sigh.

  Tobias leaned forward. “Is the couf-hee... to your liking?”

  Marc nodded vigorously, to the servant’s visible relief. Tobias dismissed him with a wave.

  CHAPTER 38: RECONCILIATION

  Mother rushed into the kitchen. “What broke?” Agnes was crouching dow
n, picking up the larger pieces of her tea mug with her bare fingers. Mother fussed and retrieved a broom and dustpan. “Don’t hurt yourself, Agnes. Use these.”

  Agnes took them from her and swept up the mess. She dumped the wreckage in the kitchen wastebasket and turned to hand the broom and dustpan back to her mother, who had returned to her TV show.

  Agnes sighed and put the broom away. She ran through all number of scenarios in her head as she performed the task. How would she explain the notebook to her sister? Should she just swipe it away from her and hope for a guiding light that led anywhere else? Should she summon Bess, and try for safety in numbers? Bess was bigger than she was… maybe she’d punch Gracie in the nose. Or they could get up in her head and give her nightmares for a month. Oh, and if Henry and the Order were to find out about this… expulsion was the best possible outcome. Or what if Henry told the countess? She didn’t know her, having only seen her once or twice, in passing. What were her capabilities? Agnes started to tear up.

  She took a deep breath and decided to take the boldest step of all.

  Agnes walked up to the dining table and took her usual seat. Gracie finished another spoonful of cereal and looked over a full page of handwritten material intently. Agnes tracked her eyes as they moved down the page. When they reached the bottom, she inhaled to speak, when Gracie suddenly closed the notebook and pushed it aside. She collected up her cereal bowl and spoon and spun off her chair and into the kitchen in a few steps. The bowl and spoon clattered in the sink. Gracie looked over at her sister.

  “Your homework is weird. I knew college wasn’t for me.”

  Agnes smiled thinly. “Maybe it is.”

  “Nope. I always said that most of what I learned in high school was total crap, and if that stuff is any indication, it’s not going to give me anything I can use in the real world either.”

  “Maybe it will.”

  Gracie ran some water over her dishes and shut off the kitchen faucet. “Sheeze, Agnes, look at us. I only graduated high school. You went to Van Buren. And now we’re both working part-time, for effing peanuts. Tell me again how college is so useful.”

  Agnes began to speak, and Gracie stomped off to her bedroom. She took the opportunity to slip the notebook back into her knit bag. She carried it up to her own bedroom and slung it over a wooden chair. She left her room and gently closed the door. She walked over to Gracie’s door and rapped softly.

  The door did not open. “Beat it.”

  Agnes rapped again. “I need to talk to you.”

  The door did not open. “I’m not in the mood for your weirdness today, Agnes. Go find a background to be part of.”

  Agnes rapped again. “Marc has a girlfriend.”

  The door opened, and Gracie poked her head through the crease. “He what?”

  “May I come in and talk to you?”

  “No. What do you mean he has a girlfriend? How in the hell would you know that and not me?”

  Agnes decided it was time to speak her way to success. “Which makes him one-up on you.”

  Gracie turned red and her eyes bulged in a blend of rage and terror. She made a shutthehellup gesture and pulled her sister into her room and pushed her backward onto her bed. Agnes managed to maintain her balance and bounce into a sit.

  Gracie folded her arms. “Spill.”

  “You’re not half as clever as you think you are.”

  Gracie shushed her and punched her shoulder. “About Marc, you weirdo. How do you know he has a girlfriend? Last I ever heard he was having some sort of nervous breakdown.”

  Agnes tipped her head. “What gave you that impression?”

  Gracie grabbed her cell phone from her nightstand. She tapped away with her thumbs and turned the screen to face Agnes, who in turn read through the messages Marc sent regarding Agnes’s whereabouts. She felt her stomach turn a bit sour. She inhaled to speak. Gracie beat her to it. She looked at the phone, then at Agnes, and smacked her forehead. “Ohhh, I get it now!”

  Agnes was puzzled. “You do?”

  “Yeah! Marc’s got a secret girlfriend, he’s not ready to spill the beans to any of us… okay, me, and he somehow accidentally tells you, or you find out and he knows that you know…” Gracie’s face brightened as she reached the punchline, “and now he’s totally losing it!”

  Agnes nodded, dazedly. “That… certainly sounds... plausible.”

  “I totally nailed it! I should be a detective.” Gracie hopped in place, grinning.

  Agnes tried to be supportive. “Well…”

  Gracie set her phone aside and plopped down next to Agnes. “So… what’s she like? Is she into hockey? Does she have a sleeve full of ink? Or is she some hush-hush office romance?”

  Agnes tried to find a way to avoid lying, but not volunteer the truth. “Well, I can say it’s very hush-hush.” She gave Gracie a conspiratorial smile.

  Gracie’s face fell. “Oh, an office thing? Let me guess… is she in middle management?” She let her voice drop an octave on those last two words.

  “It’s quite possible.”

  “Ugh, dammit Agnes! I need details! That’s why this is a job for the pros, and not you.”

  “Sorry.” Agnes was sorrier that she didn’t have enough momentum to keep this rare moment of sisterly bonding going. Gracie grabbed her phone from the nightstand and tapped and swiped a few times, then held the phone to her ear.

  “Let’s totally bust him.” She bounced up and down on the bed in anticipation.

  Agnes felt a thrill as she watched Gracie listen to the phone ring, relishing the moment. She was really going to let him have it. Instead, the sound of Marc’s voice mail greeting crackled through the line. Gracie groaned and considered hanging up. Then she licked her lips and took a deep breath as she was prompted to leave a message.

  “Heyyy jerkface. Put your girrrlfrieend down and pick up the phone! Call me. Busted!” Gracie disconnected the call triumphantly. “He’ll probably call me later while I’m at work. This is gonna be fun.” Agnes grinned. She was enjoying this. Gracie shoved her aside. “Okay, out of my room, whack job.”

  Agnes got up to leave. She paused at the door. “This was nice.”

  “Out.”

  Agnes stepped out into the hallway. Well, it had been nice. Now they’d return to their usual routine of barely speaking to each other.

  Agnes.

  She frowned. Who was calling?

  Yes, I am here.

  Agnes, this is Bess. Henry is sending a car for you. Be ready to go soon.

  This was not normal. She wasn’t supposed to be “working” today. And when she was, Bess was her driver.

  How soon?

  The clang of the door chime provided the answer.

  CHAPTER 39: CONNECTED

  Breakfast had been strange, but Marc felt as though he was at the start of a great adventure, and while he wasn’t expecting to fall in with Tobias or Inanna, it felt right. There was much that he didn’t understand, starting with saving her life by way of time traveling a few thousand years, then back to the present day to… someplace he had never been before. Tobias’s home—put mildly, as Marc didn’t know how else to process where he was, not having seen the outside of it—was astounding in scope, breadth, and sheer opulence. If it could be gold, marble, emerald, pearl, onyx, or silver, it was. It seemed like a weird thing to notice, but it appeared someone went through an already impressive loft, condo, or mansion and tinkered with the details, upgrading them considerably.

  As interesting as his surroundings were, one look at Inanna quickly dissipated any attention that wasn’t being lavished on her. He stood in the grand living room, looking up and down at the details when a pair of sleek arms wrapped around his waist. He felt Inanna bury her cheek into his back, and she swayed slowly back and forth, like a palm tree on a balmy day. Marc grinned and swayed along with her. He crossed his arms, touching her forearms, and enjoying the nearness of her.

  He loosened her grip and turned to face her. She l
ooked up at him adoringly and said something in her strange language that sent thrills through every fiber of his being. He wanted her in all the clichéd ways of every love song ever written, every ballad or sonnet, or greeting card. But with Inanna, none of it was frivolous. He felt so deeply for her, in ways he never imagined possible. He was never able to fully convince himself that their first time together, beyond the towering walls of Nineveh was fully real, but now she was here, and he wasn’t letting go.

  He leaned forward and kissed her deeply and passionately. His hands slid down along her robed form, and she teased him with her slender fingers. He was more of a blunt instrument, whereas she… well, he would have finished the thought, but her hands had invaded his robe and her nails sent shooting stabs of excitement up his sides. He’d have long red marks there later, no doubt. He didn’t care.

  He gasped and enjoyed the swirling sensations of pain and pleasure, just like she had promised him the first time they met. He looked past her and felt relieved that Tobias had retreated to some other room in his home, presumably disinterested in seeing his sister give herself yet again to a strange man. They dropped to the floor and reveled in the sensations of an oversized white fur rug that added another dimension to Inanna’s extraordinary, exotic beauty.

  There are no secrets before Nineveh.

  Inanna did not speak, but he heard her voice in his head, like before. He nodded. “Yes.”

  There are no secrets before Tobias.

  Marc sucked in his breath but did not answer.

  You have saved his Inanna. Tobias is grateful to you. He has rewarded you.

  Marc didn’t speak. He tried responding in kind.

  How…?

  He felt her mount him, and her robe fell away, revealing her nakedness before all who would see it.

  Tobias has rewarded you with Inanna. Inanna is yours.