by E. L. Todd
“It’s beautiful,” Easton said.
“That’s the first time you used that word correctly,” Breccan said. “Now where are the cookies?” Breccan didn’t look at the tree because his gaze was focused on Easton. The beautiful lights didn’t attract his attention or elicit any memories at all.
“It looks lovely, Easton,” Calloway said as he stared at the twinkling lights. “You did a great job.”
“Thank you, Calloway.” She smiled. She ignored Breccan’s question.
After a moment of silence, Breccan spoke again. “So, what about those cookies?”
She sighed and turned to her bag. She pulled out a Christmas plate along with a bag of cookies and sprinkled the sweets on the plate. “My sister and I made them.”
“Speaking of your sister,” Calloway said. “Didn’t we promise her we wouldn’t do this?”
“And we kept that promise,” she said. “We said we wouldn’t hunt them—we’ve never hunted them.”
“I disagree,” Breccan said as he shoved a cookie into his mouth.
“Shut up. We aren’t doing anything wrong,” she said as she sat down at the table. “If they come to us, we’ll take care of it. We can’t control what they do.”
“I still feel like we mislead her,” Calloway said.
“She’ll get over it,” Easton said.
Calloway sighed then sat across from her. He stared at the flames of the fireplace then looked at the frost covering the windows. The Christmas season was heavy in the air and he could feel it in the library. The roaring hearth and beautiful tree reminded him of his childhood holidays even though he couldn’t recall them vividly. Being with Breccan and Easton chased away most of the sadness, but it crept back into his heart like it always did. The fact that his father might still be alive still weighed heavily on him. The revelation was enough to dampen anyone’s Christmas spirit. He wondered what his father was doing if he was still living. Did his father have another family somewhere else? Another life?
Easton opened the Kirin Book and placed the decoder alongside it. She started to work furiously while both boys sat in silence. Breccan ate all the cookies on the plate and wiped the crumbs from his lips. Calloway didn’t get to try one.
“How were they?” Calloway smiled. It still amazed him how much his cousin could eat. Even if they ate a large meal, Breccan still had room for desert and a snack. His cousin was thin and lithe, and Calloway was astonished he wasn’t obese.
“Good,” he mumbled while he tried to chew the cookie in his mouth.
Calloway rolled his eyes and stared at the lit Christmas tree while Easton worked quietly. Since he had no knowledge about the symbols he couldn’t assist her. Being silent was the best help he could offer.
“I’m done,” she said an hour later.
“With the whole book?” Breccan asked.
She glared at him. “With the chapter,” she said. Easton reached for the plate but realized it was empty. She glared at him again. “You are disgusting.”
“What?” Breccan asked. “I thought those were for everyone.”
“Then why didn’t anyone else get some?” Easton snapped.
“Calloway ate a few,” he said.
Easton didn’t bother to verify with Calloway—she knew he was lying. “You’re such a pig,” she snapped. “Anyway, let’s get back to this.”
“Yes,” Calloway said. He didn’t want to hear another argument. “Please read it.”
Easton grabbed the page. “The darkness in light and the light in shadow are most prevalent to the Hara-Kirs, allowing them to distinguish between what is essence and what is hollow. Vision is secondary but the light source is their prevalent means of tracking. The essence is the light in shadow and the hollow is the darkness in light.” Easton finished the page and looked up.
“Is that it?” Breccan asked. “That wasn’t a lot.”
“Their language is different than ours,” she explained. “It takes more time to express the same ideas,” Easton sad.
“Even though they take so long to explain their point, it still doesn’t make sense.” Breccan turned to Calloway. “You have a guess?”
On the stormy night that Calloway first came to the Grand Historian Library, the Hara-Kir had said those words to him—that he could see the darkness in light and the light in shadow. Calloway knew it wasn’t a coincidence. “They distinguish the essence inside our bodies—that’s how they see.”
Easton shook her head. “They have eyes just like us,” she said. “They can see the world as we do.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Calloway said. “And perhaps they can do both. The Hara-Kirs can detect obstacles and dimensions like we do. Seeing the essence might be an extended feature.”
“So they aren’t human?” Breccan asked.
“I suppose not,” Calloway said.
“And what about the hollow?” Easton asked. “That must be the darkness in light.”
Calloway nodded. “Yes, but I don’t have a clue what that means.”
“Well, hollow means absence of something, right?” Breccan said. “It might be referring to humans that lack an essence. They can detect who has one and who doesn’t.”
“But humans can’t live without an essence,” Easton said. “I don’t think that’s right.”
Breccan shrugged. “I gave it my best shot.”
Since humans can’t live without an essence, Calloway suspected the feature was directed toward their race. “Breccan’s right,” Calloway said. “But I don’t think this feature works on humans. Hara-Kirs don’t possess an essence themselves so that’s how they recognize their own—they see the hollow.”
Easton leaned back in her chair. “That makes sense,” she said. “If they all look identical it would be difficult to determine who was really human and who wasn’t.”
“I is smart.” Breccan smiled.
They both smiled at him then looked away.
Calloway wondered why the Hara-Kir had said those words to him. It was dark in the library when the Hara-Kir was having a difficult time located him on top of the bookshelf. “The Hara-Kir never tried to take my essence,” he said. “He just tried to take the book.”
“What’s your point?” Breccan asked. “You already said this.”
Calloway shook his head. “I don’t understand why the creature said that to me.”
“What are you implying?” Easton asked.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I—I don’t know.”
Easton stared at him for a moment and looked away. She glanced at the time on her phone and sighed. “We should probably get going. My family is expecting me and I’m sure yours is as well.”
They finally had one chapter deciphered that detailed information about the Hara-Kirs. Yes, Weston would be furious if she knew about the book, but Calloway was certain she would take it from them if he admitted the truth. “I’m glad we finally read a chapter,” he said as he grabbed his backpack. “Now we know how they communicate, in a sense.”
“I don’t think it’s helpful,” Breccan said. “It’s not like we can use this ability.”
“It’s still knowledge,” Easton said as she walked toward the door.
“What about your tree?” Breccan asked. “Are you just going to leave it here?”
“Christmas isn’t over yet,” she said. “Besides, the Hara Kirs will have something to look at when they visit.”
“That’s thoughtful,” Breccan said as they left the library. They hurried to the car to avoid the cold air and drove back to Breccan’s house across town. When they stopped in the driveway, Aunt Grace was carrying groceries out of the trunk, and the three of them left the car and helped her carry the bags into the house. Calloway peaked inside and spotted the ingredients for a pie and cinnamon cookies—they were his favorite.
“Thank you,” she said as she turned to them. She wiped the sweat from her brow. “It was a zoo out there.” She sighed. “I can’t believe how many people wait u
ntil the last minute to do their shopping.”
“Aren’t you one of them?” Breccan asked.
“I suppose.” She smiled. She turned to Easton. “Thank you for helping as well. And I’m grateful that you keep Breccan out of the house. He tends to eat everything while I cook.”
Easton smiled. “That doesn’t sound like Breccan at all,” she said sarcastically.
“Take it as a compliment, Mom,” Breccan said.
“Are you spending Christmas with us tomorrow?” Aunt Grace asked Easton. “You’re more than welcome.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Breccan said quickly. “You don’t have to.”
Easton’s eyes lit up like beacons on fire and her smile stretched wide. “I would love to spend Christmas with you,” she said. “But I have my sister as well.”
“Bring Weston, too,” Aunt Grace said happily. “We have plenty of food. You did just carry it all in the house.”
“Thank you,” Easton said.
“Of course, honey,” she said as she hugged her. “You two are my favorite girls. In fact, I like you more than my two sons. You’re always welcome here.”
“Thanks,” Breccan spat.
“I don’t blame her,” Calloway said.
The girls ignored their comments. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Easton said as she walked to the door. “Good night.”
“Good night,” they all said. She shut the door behind her and disappeared.
Breccan moved to the living room and sat on the couch and watched television with Uncle Scott. Calloway watched them for a moment before he decided to walk upstairs to his bedroom. He shed his clothes and lied in his twin bed against the wall and thought about all the recent events of his life, wondering how he got there to begin with. Initially, he assumed his father left him a trail to follow and a mission to accomplish, but now he was losing his belief in that. Perhaps he misread the signs. He was certain his father had those gifts because he was fighting for the Life—there was no doubt—but something was missing. The idea that his father abandoned him because he didn’t want him was too much to bear and he felt the tears under his eyes. Every year on Christmas Eve, he mourned the loss of his parents but now he didn’t know what to do—one of them was alive.
Escape from Reality
Christmas morning arrived but Calloway didn’t want to wake up. The scent of the red velvet cupcakes drifted under the crack of his door and filled the room, making Calloway’s stomach growl by the smell alone, and he tried to stay in bed and ignore the tasty odor, choosing to linger on his depression a moment longer, but his resistance was becoming weaker. He had a dream about his father last night but he couldn’t remember the details—just that he was at the Grandiose Historian Library.
There was a knock on the door. “Christmas morning is here!” Aunt Grace said happily. “Come get your breakfast.” She walked down the steps and returned to the kitchen. Calloway listened to her receding feet as she moved down the creaky stairs.
After a deep sigh, Calloway rolled out of bed and dressed himself. Breccan rose a moment later and donned on his afternoon clothes. Before Calloway walked downstairs, he walked into the bathroom and tried to comb his hair like Aunt Grace did on his formal night but the results weren’t comparable. It still looked better than usual so he kept it.
When they came downstairs they sat at the table and ate their red velvet pancakes, along with scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. Christmas was Calloway’s favorite holiday because Aunt Grace unleashed her magnificent cooking for every meal, baking tasty holiday pies and homemade cookies. The house was usually vacant of sweets but Aunt Grace served batches of cookies for special occasions.
After breakfast, Calloway and Breccan washed all the dishes and cleared the table. Breccan helped with no argument because it was Christmas and he didn’t get his mother a gift, so they placed all the plates in the dishwasher and started the machine.
They moved to the living room and sat by the roaring fire. Everyone was tired and sleepy from the large breakfast. Uncle Scott had one eye open and the other was starting to close by its own will. Calloway stared at the lights of the Christmas tree and felt his body grow relaxed with non-existent fatigue. He hoped Weston and Easton wouldn’t be too bored when they arrived.
The knock on the door announced their arrival and Aunt Grace answered the door. “Merry Christmas!” she said as she hugged them both. “Please come inside and ignore the slugs on the couch.”
Easton placed her jacket on the coatrack and Weston removed hers as well. Both of the girls were wearing warm winter boots over their pants. Weston was wearing tight leggings and a loose fitting sweater with a golden scarf wrapped around her neck.
“Merry Christmas,” Easton said as she sat on the couch next to Breccan.
All the chairs in the living room were occupied, so Calloway stood up and offered his seat to Weston. She smiled at him then sat on the floor by the blazing fire. “Happy Christmas,” she said.
Calloway returned to his seat and looked away from her.
Aunt Grace appeared from the kitchen. “I’m almost finished with the mid-day dinner,” she said.
“We just ate.” Breccan moaned.
“What’s your point?” Easton smiled. “I’m surprised you still aren’t hungry.”
Aunt Grace looked at her husband. “Show them the winter formal pictures that we printed.”
Uncle Scott opened his eyes and yawned. “What?”
She placed her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Show them the pictures, dear.”
“Okay,” he said as he grabbed the photo album on the table. “Here you are.” He leaned back in his chair and closed on eye.
Aunt Grace shook her head and went back into the kitchen.
“Let me see,” Weston said as she took the binder. She flipped through the pages and Easton sat beside her so she could get a look. The boys already saw them many times at their mother’s insistence, so they didn’t move from the couch.
“You look so nice, Calloway,” Easton said. “Your hair was combed and everything.”
“Thanks.” Calloway smiled. “It was a special occasion.”
“How did I look?” Breccan asked.
Easton didn’t look up from the binder. “Yes.”
Breccan stared at her for a moment. “What?”
“You—look—yes,” she said.
Calloway and Weston laughed at her imitation of Breccan while Breccan glowered in his seat. Easton looked at Breccan. “That’s the only compliment you’re getting from me.”
Breccan rolled his eyes. “Get over it.”
“Lunch is ready,” Aunt Grace announced from the kitchen.
Calloway moaned. “I don’t think I can eat anymore,” he said. “How do you do it, Breccan?”
Breccan sighed. “Where did I get this reputation as an empty garbage disposal?”
“You’re like a cow with four stomachs,” Easton said. “You just keep going—constantly.”
“That’s not true,” Breccan snapped.
Easton stared at him. “What about those two dozen Christmas cookies I made? What happened to those?”
Breccan shrugged. “I thought we were supposed to eat them.”
“All of them?” Easton asked incredulously.
“Well, I don’t like to waste food,” he said.
“Come take a seat,” Aunt Grace said from the kitchen.
They rose from the living room and sat at the kitchen table. Breccan and Calloway sat across from the girls while Uncle Scott and Aunt Grace sat at the opposite heads of the table.
“Dig in,” Aunt Grace said.
Calloway spooned the mashed potatoes onto his plate along with the honeyed ham and strips of asparagus. Even though he was full he still ate because everything smelled so delicious. After this large meal was over he knew he would be lethargic and sleepy for the rest of the day. Weston and Easton ate more than anyone else, and Aunt Grace smiled happily as she watched them shovel the food onto the
ir plates.
Aunt Grace turned to Weston. “So, do you have a boyfriend, Weston?”
Calloway dropped his fork on his plate and it clanged against the glass loudly, disrupting the quiet of the room. Uncle Scott stared at him for a moment with an alarmed look. The unexpected question made his heart race in his chest. The food sitting in his belly wanted to come back up his throat and splatter onto his plate. He was so uncomfortable by the conversation, and he hoped Weston wasn’t offended by the personal question.
“No.” Weston smiled. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Aunt Grace asked.
Calloway felt his cheeks redden. He thought about dropping his plate on the floor so the conversation would be halted immediately—he didn’t want this to continue. He knew why his aunt was asking these questions and he hoped it wasn’t obvious to Weston. He loved his Aunt Grace but he wished she would shut her mouth and stop talking.
Easton caught his distressed look across the table. “Thank you for inviting us to spend Christmas with you,” she said to Aunt Grace. “Weston and I really appreciate it. Your cooking is fantastic.”
Aunt Grace smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for being here.”
Calloway sighed, thankful the moment was over, and returned to eating his mashed potatoes. The last thing he wanted was to make Weston uncomfortable. She was a flight risk that could be spooked off at any minute.
When they finished their lunch, everyone helped clean the dishes and clear the table, eliminating the work for Aunt Grace, and she smiled happily as she watched them work.
“That’s very sweet,” she said. “But you don’t need to do that.”
“You cooked,” Easton said. “So we clean.”
“I could get used to this.” Aunt Grace smiled.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Mom,” Breccan said.
When everything was finished, they moved into the living room and sat by the fire next to the Christmas tree. Aunt Grace handed out mugs of homemade hot cocoa with floating marshmallows and they drank their beverages by the flames of the hearth.
