Eight.
Undraland 101
I awoke in a different bed and a new house that was far grander than Jens’s hut. Cream-colored curtains framed the windows and painted the walls, giving the whole room a heavenly glow.
My body was weak, though that could have been from passing out or not eating or the whole being kidnapped thing. The sun coming in through the window was still far too bright, but I looked sideways out the glass anyway through my fingers, trying to put this new world into an order I could accept. When my eyes finally began to adjust to the slice I could sort of see, I found that I was on the third floor of a home, and there would be no popping out the window and jumping down to safety.
I touched the space between my neck and my shoulder, wondering if I’d ever feel safe again. A bandage covered the spot where Jens bit me, so naturally I peeled it back to get a look at the wound. Two puncture marks stared at me like snake eyes, and I covered it back up with a shiver. I was still wearing the stupid dress and no shoes, which did not bode well for any sort of escape plan. From the third floor. Of who knows where.
A gentle knock shook my heart in my chest. “Who is it?” I demanded.
“It’s Sir Jamie, Miss Lucy. May I come in?”
Such a pretentious title for someone I did not peg as arrogant. Though, he’s helping drug me and hold me hostage, so what did I know?
I opened the door, taking notice of the four locks that hitched on the inside and the rabid-looking scratches all up and down the door. I backed against the furthest wall when he entered. A little shorter than Jens, but still a respectable six feet and handful of inches, Jamie’s proper stance and genteel brown eyes took in my distrust with sorrow. He opened his mouth to begin a sentence several times before the correct words actually came out. “Are you well, Miss Lucy?”
I blinked at him, wondering if he wanted an answer to such a stupid question. “Um, no. Where am I?”
“You’re in my home.”
I slumped down against the wall in the corner, not caring that I was making a mess of my dress. “I suppose you’re going to tell me something like I’m being held here for my own safety or something.” I hugged myself to keep my body away from him.
The pity in Jamie’s voice kept my mind from going to the bad place. “Miss Lucy. I mean you no harm. Don’t worry. I can take you to Jens, if you’d feel safer.”
I scoffed. Yes, please send me to the man who punches women in the face.
It was then that the only source of comfort left in my world entered in behind Jamie. “Who’s been hiding my favorite niece from me so cruelly?”
“Uncle Rick!” I scrambled clumsily to my feet and stumbled into his long, outstretched arms. He had always been crazy tall, though it seemed everyone I was meeting in this strange place was uncommonly stretched. His hug was familiar, which was all I wanted out of life in that moment. Something, anything that felt real. And here he was, holding me with great affection, as he always had. “Uncle Rick, what’s going on? Why am I here? There was a bear, and then Jens, and now everything’s a wreck!” Before I could stop myself or listen to his explanation in that beautiful deep voice I’d missed so much, I was recounting everything that happened to me since Jens abducted me from my apartment.
Uncle Rick listened patiently until I finished. Then he turned to Jamie and waved his hand toward the door. “Go fetch her the clothes she came here in, James. Britta should never have taken them without her consent.”
I could tell Jamie wanted to defend Britta, but he nodded and left. Uncle Rick patted the top of my head, making me feel like I was a child again. Like I was safe because he was there. “I need answers, Uncle Rick. I don’t understand a thing.” I shook my head at his gray wizard costume. “And why are we both wearing dresses?”
“When in Rome, dear.” His ebony skin had acquired a few more wrinkles, but the life in his eyes was as youthful as it ever was. Really, he’s my mom’s friend, but we always called him Uncle Rick. It’s a little obvious we’re not blood relations. I mean, I’m fair-skinned and blonde, and he’s a towering black man with the kindest smile in the world. He was the only family I had left, and I clung to him as such. He smoothed my blonde hair away from my face and smiled as if I was something that brought him joy. Man, did I miss that fatherly affection. “Lucy, Lucy. You already know everything about my world. Don’t you remember the bedtime stories I used to tell to you and Linus?”
I let out a gusty laugh I had not accessed since I left home. “Sure. The ones about elves and garden gnomes, dwarves, Fosse-what’s-its and stuff like that? We loved those.” The adventures he spun always featured Linus and me with Uncle Rick, fighting bravely and saving the day against an evil siren queen.
That nagging unsolved puzzle clicked into place.
Pesta. The Siren Queen.
Linus and I used to act out the battles, fighting over who had to be the bad guy that was vanquished and who got to be the hero.
Linus. He’d needed a hero, and I hadn’t been able to save him.
“Sit down, Goose.” Yup, my nickname as a kid was Goose. Lucy Goosy. Super clever.
I obeyed, sitting on the side of the bed and tucking my hands under myself. He sat at the foot of the bed, his large frame sinking down so much, it tilted me slightly. He scratched his half-inch long thick gray beard that had not changed my whole life. “Tell me what you remember about elves.”
I shrugged. “They do magic, usually connected with the elements. They study different charms they can use to heal people, fight battles and help out. Stuff like that.”
“We don’t age properly, either.”
“We?” I raised my eyebrow at his admission.
Uncle Rick nodded, his smile still in place as he watched my facial cues for freak-outs. “I’m an elf, Lucy. I’m three hundred four years young. The wise mage in my stories? Those were about my mentor, King Hallamar of Elvage.”
Understand, I’m not gullible. But Uncle Rick and I have a deal. We never lie to each other. Never. When I asked him as a kid where babies came from, he told me, and then made sure my mother did a proper woman’s version on the birds and the bees that very night. When I was five and Linus’s leukemia came back and put him in the hospital, everyone around said with terrified expressions that Linus was going to be just fine. When I asked Uncle Rick, he told me the truth. That there was a good chance Linus might not be okay, but there was always hope.
If only I could blame his confession on a growing senility in him, but that was not probable, either. So I relied on a tactic I employed in my angst-filled days as the new kid. It was Rule #1: When in doubt, shut your mouth. I looked up at my uncle and nodded to at least let him know I was listening.
Uncle Rick continued on with his education of Lucy Kincaid. “I’ve mentioned the nation that resides in the Warf, correct? I believe Linus was particularly fascinated with that race.”
I nodded, recalling many an excavating venture Linus took me out on with his shovel in hand when we were little. “The Warf? Yeah. Dwarves, right? They’re shorter, hairier and mine for treasure.”
A polite knock interrupted his flow, and Uncle Rick beckoned the caller inside. The door swung open, revealing Jamie with a folded pile of familiarity in his arms.
“My clothes!” The wave of relief that washed over me shone on my face as I took the pile from Jamie, who seemed uncomfortable to be holding such mannish women’s clothing. I hadn’t noticed before, but he had on a red sort of hat atop his wavy brown hair. It was the size of a yarmulke, but was pointed at the center like a miniature gnome cap.
And he thought my clothes were embarrassing.
Uncle Rick motioned to the partition in the corner of the room, so I ducked behind it and found a water basin and soap to wash myself with. “Space, guys,” I ordered, jerking my thumb toward the door. The men bowed politely and gave me the ten minutes it took to sponge off and get dressed. The simple gown was flung over the partition, and I emerged in my jeans, green long-sleeved T, purple tank
and mismatched Chucks. Oh, the difference being in your own clothes makes. I almost felt like I had a right to ask questions again.
Alrik smiled indulgently at me when I let him back in. Jamie studied me with curiosity, as if I’d come out with a bird’s nest on my head.
Yes, it’s my nest, and I’ll wear it proudly. I dare you to criticize my shoes.
“Are you well, Miss Lucy?” Jamie asked; his erect stance bent slightly whenever he spoke to me. It was like he wasn’t sure I could understand him from my shorter stature. I’m 5’7”, so I wasn’t used to being the shortest one everywhere I went, but that seemed to be the case in Jens’s land. Or Uncle Rick’s. I really wasn’t sure where I was anymore.
“I’m getting better.” It was at that moment that Jens let himself into the room, not bothering to greet anyone. “I spoke too soon.” I backed up, giving the larger men the floor to converse without me.
Jens was all business, accessing none of the biting humor we exchanged in the car. “It’s past the midpoint of the day. If we’re going to meet with your friends and talk to the king, now’s the time. Tor’s already at my place, stinking it up.”
Jamie shook his head at his friend. “You know you shouldn’t be here. If my father finds you’ve been in my house, he’ll have you thrown out for sure. I told you I’d bring her out for you.”
A cold look settled over Jens, his upper lip sneering. “I couldn’t care less if your father finds me. He’s already tried offing me three times. Four would just be amusing at this point.”
Arrogant prick. I didn’t know totally what they were talking about, but I recognized haughtiness when I saw it.
Uncle Rick’s disappointed expression was directed at Jens. “Patience was never your strong suit. It won’t do to provoke King Johannes before we meet. Sneak back out, Tom.”
Jens glanced at me with a hard look in his emerald eyes. “You couldn’t wear a dress to make things easier for us, could you?”
I kept my voice deadly quiet as I glared at him, fists clenched at my sides. “Look, Jimmy, I don’t have to lift a finger to make your life easier. And you can get your rocks off looking at women in dresses all the livelong day. I won’t stop you. Just look elsewhere.”
“Jens,” he corrected, steaming already. His posture stiffened as he spoke. “My name is Jens, and if the others don’t respect you, they won’t listen to Alrik and come with us. It’s more important than your precious feelings, what we’re dealing with here.”
“What who’s dealing with? You want me off your team? Fine by me. Drop me at the nearest Y.” My stomach was upset, and it was making me more irritable than usual.
“You still don’t know? Come on, you can’t be this slow.” He pointed to Uncle Rick. “Alrik, elf. Jamie and Jens, Tomten. You, human brat.”
I bristled, shaking my shoulders as if that might rid me of him. “Lay off, Jens. I’m warning you. You burned my apartment down, let them take my clothes, poisoned me with your vampire fangs, bossed me around and pissed me off.” I touched the bandage on my neck. I could still feel the faint sting where he’d bit me. “Get out, Lestat!”
Uncle Rick waved Jens off. “We’ll meet you back at your house within the hour. I trust by then you two will learn how to get along?”
I wanted to stick out my tongue, but didn’t think that’d be as intimidating as I wanted to appear.
Jens looked like he wanted to shout at me, but held his tongue out of respect for Uncle Rick. He stepped to the door that had far too many locks and bolts on it and tugged on his ear, tossing me an unfathomable look before disappearing.
Like, literally vanishing into thin air.
Undraland Page 8
