Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories)

by Ringle, Molly

  “Hello? Whitney?” the girl said. She had evidently dialed their R.A. Meanwhile her roommate, in bed, rubbed her eyes groggily. “There’s some dude on our floor. I think he broke in.”

  Quentin sauntered out of Sophie’s room, leaning on her cane. “Goodbye, then, dear,” she told Sophie on her way past. “I’m truly sorry you’ve chosen the wrong path.”

  Sophie knew she should jump on the lunatic, zap her as well, try to detain her for the cops, something. But Quentin was elderly enough that Sophie feared the weapon might kill her, and she wasn’t ready to commit murder. In addition, a wave of weakness and nausea overcame her and she slid to sit upon the floor.

  Quentin walked on by, into the stairwell. Sophie leaned against the wardrobe in the other girls’ room and closed her eyes.

  “Thanks, Whitney.” The girl hung up. “She’ll be right up. What the hell did you do to that guy? Taze him?”

  Sophie nodded, resting her head on her knees.

  “Wow. You’re bad-ass,” said the girl in admiration.

  Sophie didn’t answer. What she longed for, even more than eradicating Thanatos from the face of the Earth, was to get Adrian here right now, seek reassurance in his strength and closeness.

  But the next half hour went by in a flurry of activity.

  Whitney, the R.A., arrived just a few minutes before the cops, and went pale at the news. Learning that a cult nut-job had somehow gotten into one of the student’s rooms, with a violent accomplice in the hall, was probably high on the list of an R.A.’s worst nightmares. While they waited for the cops to arrive, Whitney noticed Sophie’s nausea and illness, and had Sophie lie down in her bed again, and drink from a water bottle she brought her. Meanwhile, the girl from across the hall was happy to take the stun gun and point it at the dude in the hallway, covering him in case he got any notions of violence again.

  The initial electric shock sufficed, though: he was still on the floor, immobilized, when the police tromped in. They slapped handcuffs on him and carried him out. Sophie caught glimpses of it all through the open door, as she lay curled in bed, sipping water.

  The police came in to get her report. She sat up in bed, and this time insisted they add Bill Wilkes’ name to the list of people to interrogate—even if he was a cop.

  Taking her statement lasted ages, or so it seemed. Finally they left, promising her they were scouring the area for Quentin and any other accomplices. They also strongly suggested she change her lock.

  “We’ll do it tomorrow,” Whitney promised Sophie. “Will you be okay tonight?”

  Sophie nodded. “Thanks, Whitney.”

  “Call if you need anything. Any hour. I’m so sorry—I don’t know how this happened.”

  “Not your fault.” Sophie waved wearily, and watched as Whitney left to file her own incident report.

  After retrieving her stun gun from the enamored girl across the hall, Sophie locked her door, sat against her bed, and finally dialed Adrian.

  He answered after three rings, his words slurring in sleepiness. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Professor Quentin was here. In my room. Watching me sleep.”

  “What?” Instantly his voice changed to full-alert mode.

  “Warning me about you. Threatening me.” Her breath came sharp on the next inhalation, and she realized she was on the verge of crying.

  “Bloody—where is she? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. She’s gone now. My R.A. was here, and the police, and…I stun-gunned a guy in the hallway who tried to grab me. But Quentin got away.”

  “A guy in the—? All right, I’m coming over there.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Yes I can.” He sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “I can threaten that woman right back, and I will.”

  “I said, she got away. The cops are looking for her. I only called you to tell you.”

  “God, Soph. How’d she get in? This is bad.”

  “Maybe she knows a locksmith, or copied someone’s key; I don’t know. We’re changing the locks tomorrow. But I might never feel safe again.”

  “Me neither.” He sighed, sounding wretched. “What are you going to do the rest of the night? Will you be able to get any sleep?”

  “I don’t know. She probably won’t come back now, or even tomorrow, but I’m freaked out. If I could go home, I would, but it’s too far. And there isn’t anywhere else.”

  “Yes there is.” His voice lowered and warmed. “Come stay with me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SOPHIE STUFFED A CHANGE OF clothes into her backpack, her mind in a flutter. Even without the Thanatos issue, the problems of staying overnight with Adrian would be enough on their own to worry her. Was it actually dangerous, with spirit-realm microbes floating about? Would she be disgusting and snore all night with her cold? Would he try to cuddle with her even when she was disgusting, or would he not want to? Which would be worse?

  Adrian had said he was going to come all the way to the dorm to meet her, since it was the middle of the night and she was sick. He overrode her protests by assuring her he had a disguise of some kind, which Nikolaos had provided for him a while back.

  So, on top of the other concerns, Sophie also worried she’d burst into nervous giggles at the sight of whatever this disguise was.

  Her phone rang.

  Sophie answered. “Hello?”

  “I’m downstairs,” said Adrian. “Do you want to come down? Or buzz me in?”

  “I’ll come down. See you in a minute.” She hung up and grabbed her pack. Dizzily, blowing her nose on the way, she hurried down the staircase and stepped out the glass door. Night air gusted into her face, rattling leaves on the shrubs. No one was around except a guy leaning on the wall, holding a cigarette. He had straight hair to his shoulders, brown streaked with bleach-blond. He wore a black fedora, glasses with thick dark rims, and a typical emo-kid long black raincoat.

  Oh, no. She stopped, closed her eyes a second, then looked at him again. Giggles overtook her. She leaned back helplessly against the window.

  Adrian slid the unlit cigarette into his coat pocket, and stepped back into the shadow of a high hedge. “Pull yourself together. Let’s go.”

  She followed. “You look—this is—” She grasped a handful of the wig, then fell against his chest, unable to do anything but laugh.

  He hugged her. An extra swoop of dizziness, and the cessation of the university noises, told her they had switched realms.

  She lifted her head, trying to see his face in the darkness. “Don’t ever go blond.”

  “Deal. I was only ever going to wear this disguise in extreme emergencies. Like when a murderer threatens my girl.” He removed the glasses, and her adjusting vision could make out the shine of his eyes, and the concern in them. “You all right? Really?”

  Her laughter faded and her emotions teetered back to the verge of tears. She leaned on him. “No. I’m a wreck. And so tired.”

  Adrian stooped and lifted her, tucking an arm under her knees. She hugged his neck and he carried her across the fields, moving branches out of the way so nothing scratched her. At the Airstream he transferred her to one arm while he opened the door, then climbed in with her. It was warm inside; the generator was humming. Two small lamps shone, one above the sink and one on the wall above his bed, at the end of the trailer. He set her on the bed, and took her backpack and coat, pushing them into a tiny open closet. He removed the pieces of the disguise and shoved them onto the top shelf. Sophie curled up on the blankets, watching him.

  Kiri thumped her tail on the floor. Sophie held out her hand, and Kiri leaped up to snuffle it.

  Running his hand through his flattened curls, Adrian sat on the fold-down bench that served as the only seat in the small bedroom, other than the bed itself. “Okay. Tell me what she said to you.”

  Sophie did so, dully recounting all the threats and disturbing suggestions Quentin had made.

  Adrian listened, gaze steady on
her face, his knuckles pressed to his lips and his dark eyes burning with anger. When she was finished, he dropped his gaze to the floor and sat motionless a while. Then he rose and kissed her on the forehead. “You did the right thing getting out of there. But it’s okay to lie in the future and say you’ve had nothing more to do with me.”

  “I will.” She reached out for his hand. “But I do want more to do with you. I know it’s real, everything you’ve shown me.”

  “Good.” Adrian squeezed her fingers and let go. “Tell me what you need—for now, or for morning. I’ll get it. Tea? Orange juice? Vegetables?”

  “Right now I just need rest. But for breakfast, I guess some kind of herbal tea, maybe with rosehips or echinacea. And apples and almond butter, if you don’t have them.”

  “What kind of apples do you want?”

  “Aww. People don’t usually ask me what kind of apples.”

  He gave her a half-smile. “We in New Zealand are apple experts, I remind you.”

  “I know it. We in Washington import them when ours aren’t in season. I like Honeycrisp best, but if you can’t find them, Fuji are fine.”

  “Anything else? Are you warm enough?”

  She nodded, drawing his blanket up over herself. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Kiri’ll stay with you. I won’t be more than an hour or two. Call right away if you need anything.”

  He went out. Sophie lay with her eyes closed, comforted at being in his bed, in a realm out of reach of lunatics like Quentin. Kiri snoozed near her, getting up once to drink from her water bowl in the kitchen, then returning. Outside, the generator hummed and some kind of wild dog or monkey yipped in the distance.

  It’s a strange realm, but it’s my realm, she thought, letting Persephone’s identity steal over her in her exhaustion.

  She heard the click of the Airstream’s door opening, and the rustle of a plastic bag. Sitting up, she saw Adrian enter. Her phone indicated that an hour and a half had passed since he left—it was almost three in the morning now. She must have fallen asleep.

  He set the plastic bag of groceries on the kitchen counter and walked to her, still in his flannel-lined coat. Dirt was smudged across his shoulder and chin. “How are you doing?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Not bad.” She thumbed the dirt off his chin. “How’d you get all dirty? Did you fall over or something?”

  “No. I, uh—”

  He moved his right hand behind his back. Kiri whined and lifted her muzzle to sniff it.

  Catching a glimpse, Sophie gasped and seized his hand to drag it into view.

  It looked like a car had run over it, was her first horrified thought. It was crushed and bloody and mangled. His cuff was wet with blood, and a few red drops had fallen on his jeans and stained them.

  “I’m fine,” he protested.

  “How is this fine? What did you do? Did you find Quentin?”

  “No. I wanted to, believe me. But I didn’t even know where to look, so…after getting the food I took out my aggressions on some rocks in the spirit realm.”

  “Some rocks.”

  “The smaller river over there, I think it’s the Marys River. I started picking up boulders and throwing them down into it, just to smash something, and…” He sheepishly covered his injured hand with the other. “One of the really big ones slipped and landed on my hand. Probably broke just about every bone in it. Stupid.”

  “Oh, my God. Doesn’t it hurt? It does. You’re pale.” She laid her palm on his cheek, finding it clammy.

  “I’ll recover. It’ll be fine by morning.” He picked up a black T-shirt from the floor, and wrapped it around his hand.

  She set her fingers on top of it. “You were this mad because some woman was a bitch to me?”

  “No.” Adrian gazed at his lap. “I was mad because she’s right.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “She is right. I thought of all those things myself, or most of them, those two years I was waiting for the immortality fruit to grow. I told myself it wouldn’t be a problem, it’d be fine, we’d work it out. I’m stubborn and selfish.”

  “You’re not. She’s crazy.”

  “At first I thought it’d be enough if I could just have you. If I had to pick one person to bring into this with me, then of course I’d pick you. I told myself that was all I was trying to do. One real companion isn’t so much to ask for, is it? But wouldn’t we eventually want our best mates and closest relatives to join us? Then wouldn’t they want their loved ones to join us too? Numbers would multiply in no time.”

  “There’s a whole other realm for us—for you. There’s room. We wouldn’t be overpopulating the living world.”

  Adrian flexed his injured hand carefully inside the T-shirt, and winced. “The more of us there are, the harder it becomes to keep secret. The likelier it becomes that the wrong people will hear about the fruit and steal it.”

  “Then why not hide out in the other realm? Hardly ever go to the living world at all?”

  He didn’t lift his face. “It comes to that, eventually. Closing the door on the world you know, only seeing it in quick visits, never living properly in it again. That isn’t what you’d want, is it?”

  When he put it that way, Sophie realized it was pretty much how Adrian lived now. She laced her fingers into his, on the uninjured hand. “There still has to be some way to compromise, to be a part of both worlds. You said it yourself: most people wouldn’t mind immortals existing. They might even protect us. Thanatos is the extreme—the crazies.” Her throat rasped as she spoke, her cold reasserting itself. She took a moment to cough and clear it.

  Adrian glanced at her. “Right, go back and forth. Bringing new plagues to humankind.”

  “I don’t have a freaking plague. I have a cold.”

  “That’s the one thing that didn’t occur to me in those two years. Didn’t occur to Rhea either, because she doesn’t think in modern terms—germs and all that. But it’s completely possible. Likely, even. Weird giant animals evolved out there. Of course different bacteria and viruses would have too.”

  Though fear shivered through her, she adopted a brave tone. “All right. If I get worse and look like I’m about to die, rush me to the orchard and feed me the blue orange.”

  “That’s my plan. Though it would mean turning you into one of their targets.”

  “Whatever. I already am. That’s the choice I made.” When he glanced at her cautiously, she added, “I came running straight to you and your realm, didn’t I? I never called the cops on you for kidnapping me. I’ve been choosing you since day one.”

  He leaned over and hugged her, cradling her head with his cloth-wrapped hand. Then he moved back to kiss her softly on the lips. “That doesn’t have to be your final answer,” he said. “But thanks.” Suddenly his expression brightened. “So you know it’s a blue orange?”

  Sophie paused, thinking about it. “Yeah. I do. Though I haven’t totally unpacked the memory yet.”

  “You will soon.” He rose. “Want some tea?”

  “Sounds good. And you can tell me about New Zealand.”

  “New Zealand? Why?”

  “Because I want to know everything about you. The things the memories can’t tell me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I got good marks in social science, bad marks in maths, my favorite color is green, and are you falling asleep with boredom yet?”

  She plumped the pillow upright and settled her back against it. “Make that tea. And wash the blood out of your coat before it dries that way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A CLOUDY GRAY LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the Airstream’s drawn curtains. Almost seven a.m., said the vintage analog clock set into the wall.

  Sophie was alone under the blankets. Rising onto her elbow, she found Adrian and Kiri asleep on the floor. Kiri was curled up on her dog bed. Adrian’s head shared the edge of it; he lay on his back with his knees drawn up to fit the small floor space. He still wor
e his jeans, boots, and green flannel shirt, as if he hadn’t intended to fall asleep.

  His right hand lay across his chest. She leaned down for a closer look at it. Though smudges of blood marked his skin, his flesh was whole and unbroken, the lines of his finger bones perfect. Incredible.

  To avoid waking him, she stepped over him and tiptoed to the tiny bathroom, and slid the pocket door shut. Adrian’s coat hung over the one towel rack, its sleeve damp from where he’d washed out the blood. She moved it to the edge of the bucket-sized tub, wondering with a smile how Adrian fit in that, and spent several minutes making herself feel more human again with the help of warm water and a washcloth.

  After blowing her nose enough to use up nearly a dozen tissues, she could breathe more freely, though the noise must have woken up her companions. Dog toenails clicked on the floor, and Adrian murmured something. A moment later, he said from outside the bathroom door, “Sophie?”

  “Hi. Yeah.” She glanced in the mirror—oh well, dark shadows under the eyes, no fix for it now—and opened the door. There he stood, looking anxious and adorable with sleep-disordered hair. “Sorry,” she said, “I’ll get out of here for you.”

  “No, take your time. I was about to take Kiri out. Just checking on you.”

  “I’m okay. At least, my throat feels better, and I don’t think I have a fever anymore.” They both smiled. “Just a cold. Told you,” she accused gently.

  Adrian pulled in a long breath, as if a weight had lifted off him. “Good.”

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Me?” He held up the hand that a boulder had smashed last night. “Fine. Good as new.” Eyes twinkling, he echoed, “Told you.”

  He hopped out of the trailer with Kiri, and Sophie employed her low store of energy in slicing up an apple and starting the coffee maker for him. Then she sat at the table and nibbled the apple slices with a spoonful of almond butter.

  Adrian returned, washed and changed in the bathroom, and came back to the kitchen with a fresh shave. Too bad her stuffy nose couldn’t detect smells today, she thought. The scent of shaving cream on his jaw would be a treat. He offered oatmeal to supplement her apple slices, and she accepted.