by Carmen Caine
Before I could reply, Rafael’s arm slipped around my shoulders once again. With a laugh that sounded almost genuine, he lightly suggested, “Perhaps you should be the one going home, Ellison. Maybe you’re ill, too.”
“I don’t feel so well myself,” piped up the barista who had fainted. But as Samantha’s razor-sharp eyes slid in her direction, she quickly coughed and scurried back to the espresso machine. “Next customer?” she asked brightly.
Taking advantage of the distraction, we escaped to the kitchen and then out the back door to where Al’s yellow Ford pickup waited. The mist swirling around its oversized wheels betrayed the fact that one of the Fae had just shifted it from his driveway for our use. Or maybe Rafael had. But I didn’t feel like asking. I just wanted to be quiet. Too much had happened.
The three of us climbed into the cab, and Al drove home, past the group of Fae Protectors waiting at the bus stop. They watched us pass with slight frowns on their faces. Clearly, they would have preferred to shift back to Rafael’s house to the newly established Fae Command Center. But with Samantha still unpacking pink cake boxes from her car across the street, they had to keep up the pretense that they were mere actors and take a normal human mode of transportation back to Rafael’s house.
I don’t remember much of the ride home after that. It was raining, a soft fine mist. I just noted dimly that even though it was late in the afternoon, it was already growing dark. Seattle didn’t have much sunlight in the winter.
I felt lost and a bit disconnected from reality. When a bad thing happened to me, I usually tried to ignore it and stuff it away to be emotionally dealt with later. But, then I never would. Instead, I’d eventually forget about it, so the process worked for me. It just made life easier. But I didn’t want to ignore what had happened to Jareth. It just didn’t feel right. Besides, how could anyone pretend he’d never been around anyway? He was too obnoxious to forget.
I only became aware of my surroundings as I stepped onto the creaking porch of our bright blue rambler and Rafael’s hand dropped onto my shoulder in a comforting squeeze. Somehow, I’d exited the truck and followed him.
“I will return shortly,” he murmured, his lips brushing the tip of my ear. “You’re safe here. The Protectors are ready and on alert.”
That didn’t really inspire much confidence. For being the Elite Guards of the Fae royalty and such, the Protectors had actually seemed pretty useless in the coffee shop.
I guess it wasn’t hard to read my face. Rafael’s long finger hooked under my chin, forcing me to meet his clear, unwavering gaze.
“And you also have Al and Ajax,” he added softly, his cheek creasing into a whisper of an encouraging smile.
I attempted to smile back, but it was too hard. Instead, I just stood there, looking into his warm gray eyes flecked with tiny specks of blue. I could see the pain buried in them. He was suffering more than anyone knew over Jareth. After all, they were half-brothers, even though he’d just learned that recently. I didn’t know how to comfort him, especially when I was pretty much a mess myself. But with my heart filling with sympathy, I lifted my hand to tuck a lock of his blond hair back behind his ear.
His smile broadened and his long lashes closed for a brief moment.
I heard the slam of the truck door and the gravel crunching beneath Al’s boots as he joined us.
“I must leave,” Rafael informed Al then, stepping away from me. “But not for long.”
Al simply nodded, and we stood on the porch, watching Rafael sprint across the street to his two-story home that now housed the Fae Command Center.
The door to our blue rambler opened, and Betty poked her head out, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “Samantha said you’re sick, honey?” she asked, concerned.
I looked at my foster mom standing there with her mousy-brown hair framing her pleasant face and I wondered how I’d ever thought there was nothing unique about her. Once, I believed she’d be able to pull off the perfect crime because no witness would ever remember what she looked like. I had been so foolish. Betty was the sincerest, most caring person I’d ever met. How could I ever forget an inch of her gentle face, lovely smile, or the warmth in her kind eyes?
“Honey?” she repeated, looking more concerned.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly, my eyes misting with emotion.
Squaring his shoulders, Al stepped up to kiss his wife on the top of the head and then entered the house.
I followed, maneuvering around a pile of packages UPS had apparently just delivered for Betty’s eBay business. Not wanting to think about Jareth, I peered inside one of the opened boxes. It was a shipment of “Baby Mops”. They were ingenious, actually. Warm baby onesies that had chenille mops attached to the fronts, so when the babies crawled around, they would actually polish your floor.
I wandered into the kitchen and found Tigger right where I expected him to be, splayed out on the yellow tiles and snoring in front of the refrigerator. I crouched next to the old brindle bloodhound and fondly ruffled the fat rolls around his neck.
He kept snoring.
A loud humph of a sigh came from behind me. It sounded supremely annoyed, and I knew it could only belong to that muscle-bound brute of a Doberman, Ajax. I straightened and glanced over at the dog standing behind me. He was gorgeous, really, all black and shiny with long, wicked ears.
“Hi, Ajax,” I greeted him in a neutral tone.
He stared back at me with a blank expression.
We weren’t enemies anymore. But we weren’t exactly best buds, either.
Heaving a sigh of my own, I inspected my work-clothing and suddenly wanted to change. But I’d only taken a step towards my room before I hesitated. That Tulpa had appeared again at the coffee shop, and it clearly still had an appetite for me. Would it show up in my room? I shot a sideways glance at Ajax, wondering if I could convince him to escort me.
I know he saw me and that he’d followed my thoughts. With a loud yawn of pure boredom, he abruptly sat down and stretched out his long legs, as if he were settling in for the night.
“Come on, Ajax,” I grumbled, drawing my brows into a deep scowl. Why did the dog have to make everything so complicated? “Can’t you just be nice for once? You’re such a brat!”
He actually grinned at that, his dog lips peeling back to reveal his shiny white teeth. I really don’t know why he took that as a compliment.
There was a thump on the floor, and I glanced down to see that Tigger had awakened. Heaving himself laboriously to his feet, he gave his tail a vigorous wag as he stared at the refrigerator door.
It gave me an idea. Could I bribe Ajax with a hot dog? It was worth a try. Removing a couple of hot dogs, I tossed one to Tigger—who inhaled it with one gulp—and then dangled the other in Ajax’s direction.
“Want one, too?” I coaxed in a friendly voice. “It’s niiiiicce and juuuuicy.”
He sent me an “Are you utterly insane?”-look and turned his nose away as if he were a lofty prince and I’d just offered him the most revolting peasant morsel he’d ever seen.
I rolled my eyes and tossed his unwanted hot dog to Tigger. He cooperated by immediately downing the evidence. I think he knew as well as I did that Betty would be mad—well as mad as Betty ever got—if she caught me sneaking in a few extra treats. She was still trying to get him to lose weight.
“Do you want something else?” I asked Ajax, turning back to peer into the refrigerator.
Picking up a slice of cheese, I held it out for his approval.
Slowly, he turned his head the other way, somehow managing to look even more insulted.
I tried a boiled egg.
Same response.
Frowning, I resorted to holding out for his inspection each and every food item in the fridge. He deemed to look at a few. Some lean turkey lunchmeat actually got a sniff before he adopted his utterly disgusted expression and turned away yet again.
“What kind of dog are you?” I asked, outraged, shoving the co
ntainers back onto the shelf. “Are you reading the fat content to see how it would affect your lean, trim figure?”
His dark, almond-shaped eyes narrowed, and he lifted a lip, showing me a tooth of displeasure.
“Oh, I’m not scared of you anymore,” I snapped, glaring at him.
He returned my annoyed look with one of his own. Scowling, I slammed the refrigerator door shut, causing a heaping box of used tennis balls on top to shift. One of the balls rolled off the fridge and bounced with a thud.
Ajax leapt to his feet and pounced. His actions were more like a kitten’s than a dog’s—a big, mean, nasty-tempered kitten.
I reached for the ball, but Ajax, of course, beat me to it.
Quickly, I retracted my hand. “Want me to throw that?” I asked, thinking I just might be able to throw it in the direction of my room and get him to escort me despite himself.
He almost looked tempted. He stood there, majestic, chewing the ball in the side of his mouth as if it were some kind of dog-sized jawbreaker. I clearly wasn’t going to get that one back. Reaching for the box, I took out another ball.
“Let’s go,” I said, tossing the ball down the hallway.
He stood there, clearly knowing what I was doing. But the temptation of the ball was just too much. After stomping in place a couple of times as if trying to control his feet, he gave up and bounded after it, but not before pausing a second to shoot me a dirty look.
I almost cackled. I would have, if it hadn’t been such a rotten day. Instead, I just let myself feel relieved and taking a couple more balls, headed after him. By the time we made it to my room, he’d managed to stuff three tennis balls in his mouth. It made him look a bit like a platypus, but that was something I could never tell him.
I’d been a bit afraid to go to my bedroom, but once in it, I didn’t feel as scared as I thought I would. Walking out of my shoes, I left them on the floor as I surveyed the familiar fuzzy blanket on the bed, the sunflower-shaped rug, and Jerry’s cage perched on top of the dresser. I guess my diversion with Ajax had lightened my mood a little, at least enough to allow me to function, anyway.
As Ajax spat the tennis balls out onto the bed to sit on them much like a dragon protecting his golden treasure, I hurriedly shrugged out of my “Bean There, Baked That” T-shirt and slipped on my favorite hoodie and a tattered pair of jeans. Moving to the dresser, I took out a small bag of gerbil feed from the top drawer.
My mouse, Jerry, was fast asleep, curled up into a tiny gray ball in the middle of a monstrous nest he’d constructed of shavings, toilet paper, and what looked like one of my socks. I wondered how he’d gotten ahold of it. Not wanting to wake him, I decided to feed him later. Actually, he didn’t even need to be fed as I could see his private stores scattered throughout the plastic tubes of his cage. He had enough food in there to easily last him the rest of winter.
I glanced in the large mirror hanging on the wall behind the dresser and pulled my black hair back into a ponytail, noting that my cheekbones were more pronounced than they’d been when I’d first arrived at Al and Betty’s home. The dark smudges under my green eyes seemed almost permanent now. I winced. My skin looked pale. It was no small wonder Samantha had sent me home. I guess I really did look sick.
And I was definitely sick at heart.
Sitting down on the bed next to Ajax, I heaved a sigh.
I guess he sensed what I felt. He dropped the last tennis ball from his mouth—the one he’d been chewing like a piece of gum—and held still, as my fingers lightly traced over his glossy fur.
My Blue Thread was the only one left now.
Rafael had failed. And Jareth. Well, I didn’t know if he’d failed his Blue Thread but what did it matter since he’d died over it? He’d lost all the same. I screwed my eyes tightly shut a moment, swallowing a wave of emotion. Clearly, they’d both had to face their own horrible demons. I wasn’t even sure what my inner demons even were.
It was hard for me to really think about. Long ago, I’d learned to not care much for anything, knowing at the rate my mother moved to escape boyfriends that whatever I grew accustomed to, it wouldn’t stay the same. Not feeling or getting too close to anything or anyone made it easier to leave and survive. I had avoided all attachments.
Except I was doing the opposite now.
And it had all begun with Jerry. I glanced at the tiny gray mouse still snoring in his cage. Jerry was the first thing that I’d ever truly loved, even in spite of the fact that I might lose him.
Somehow, Rafael had crept inside my heart, too.
Not to mention Grace, Al, and Betty.
My eyes misted.
And Jareth.
Somehow, I guess I’d been opening up these past few months. I’d grown to love each of them in their own way. Rafael had been right when he’d told me there were many shades of love. Love seemed a bit contagious as well. I hadn’t known I could care for so many people at the same time.
I glanced down at the temperamental Doberman holding still beneath my hand. I hadn’t even been conscious of the fact I was still petting him. It was surprising but even more so that he was letting me. I think we both realized the marvel at the same time because he growled. I knew it wasn’t a real growl. But I stood up anyway, pretending to be scared even though we both knew I was only indulging him.
“Let’s go,” I said, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else.
I guess Ajax wanted to go, too, because he jumped down from the bed at once, leaving his precious collection of tennis balls behind. He padded softly down the hall after me as we made our way back to the kitchen.
Rounding the boxes stacked into the hallway, we ran right into Betty.
“I just got my PayPal money, so I’m off to the grocery store. I’ll be back soon.” She smiled in greeting as she zipped her jacket. After rummaging in her purse for the car keys, she suddenly paused to send me a stern look. Well, for Betty I guess it was stern. For anyone else, it was just a warm, concerned smile. “Don’t let Al turn the house into a chicken coop while I’m gone,” she warned. “And I’ll pick you up some soup. You just go rest on the couch, honey.”
I smiled and nodded. Betty warmed me down to the toes. She made me feel like I was wrapped in a soft fuzzy blanket and that everything was just going to work out and be OK in the end. But I guess that is what good moms do.
After closing the door behind her, I headed for the kitchen to pour myself a glass of milk. While pouring it, I watched through the kitchen window as Betty backed Al’s truck out of the driveway. She’d scarcely pulled out of the cul-de-sac when suddenly the Fae appeared, popping into the kitchen in poofs of mist. And even though you’d think I’d be used to Fae surprises by now, I almost dropped my milk just the same.
I turned to find Rafael’s tall frame leaning against the countertop near the sink, his arms crossed and his handsome face pale. I’d half expected to see him in a new outfit and with his thick blond hair fashionably styled, but he was wearing the same clothes from the coffee shop and there was hardly any eyeliner ringing his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked. Clearly, there was a new crisis of some kind.
Rafael’s intense eyes searched mine. He looked like he wanted to tell me something. His lips parted, but then glancing over my shoulder at the Fae Protectors still popping into the kitchen, he seemed to change his mind.
“It’s Melody,” he said, clearing his throat. “She’s disappeared again. She obviously has allies.”
I could tell it wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, and it wasn’t particularly surprising news. Al’s army boots thudded across the vinyl tiles, and I looked up at the frown lines indented between his brows.
“What about the GPS tracker I slapped on her back?” he boomed at Rafael. “Where did it end up?”
“GPS?” Rafael repeated, blinking in surprise. Exchanging a quick glance with me, he turned to the Fae Protectors and ordered, “Recalibrate the locators. Doubtless, she wouldn’t think of such primitive signals eithe
r.”
Several of the Fae Protectors vanished in a poof, apparently to detect GPS signals, as the others took out their trions and murmured into them with soft words.
If Al was insulted by his GPS tracker being called primitive, he certainly didn’t show it. “I’ve got some equipment that might help you boys out,” he offered, nodding his head at the cupboard that held his spy gear.
My foster father looked tired, drained. I could tell that Jareth’s death weighed on him, too, but he sent me a heartening smile and patted me fondly on the head before pausing next to Tigger. “How’s my wily boy tonight?” he asked with a hint of pride in his voice.
The old bloodhound responded, his tail beating the floor like a drum. But as Al moved to the cupboard and it was apparent that no hot dog was forthcoming, he turned three times and settled back into his nap with a loud sigh of pleasure. Apparently, tail-wagging was exhausting business.
As we watched Al dig through his cupboard, Rafael reached over and, grabbing my wrists, pulled me close into the circle of his arms. It was comforting being there, and I laid my head on his shoulder. I could feel myself relaxing. I could feel him relaxing too as he rested his chin on the top of my head. His arms were strong and gentle, and he seemed just as content to hold me as I was to stay there.
With a whistle of triumph, Al waved the Protectors over to the kitchen table to give them a demonstration of his gadgetry, and using the opportunity, Rafael pulled me out of the kitchen. Weaving through the piles of cardboard boxes, he guided me into the empty family room to stand near the window.
“What is it?” I asked in a hushed tone.
He stood there a moment, reaching out to absently twine a lock of my hair around his finger. His enigmatic eyes thoughtfully considered me.
“What is it?” I asked again, beginning to fill with anxiety.
