Special Rewards (The Coursodon Dimension Book 2)

by M. L. Ryan

  I couldn’t read any of the text, but there was a diorama of sorts. I studied the moving, three-dimensional images that reminded me of the holographic message for help Princess Leia sent to Obi Wan Kenobi via R2D2 in the Star Wars film. Courso criminals, most stone-faced and resigned to their fate, were crowded together awaiting their turn to be exiled. One by one, they were forcibly shoved into the unknown dimension, the familiar ripples of transcommutation visible even in the recreation. And one by one, they disappeared. When the entire group was gone, the scene repeated.

  Staring at the disturbing images, Alex said softly, “It’s bad enough that they got rid of actual criminals in that way. But many were unjustly convicted because they made enemies in high places. Or had disabilities. It wasn’t uncommon to ship off whole families with limited magical acumen in order to keep Courso bloodlines pure.”

  “There are similar stories in human history. Hell, that kind of fucked-up shit happens now,” I observed with disgust.

  “The Courso have tried very hard to avoid repeating that type of behavior. We have inter-kingdom forces whose charter requires them to protect against these types of abuses. Fortunately, we have not had this kind of repellant government-sanctioned behavior in a very long time.”

  The next room was dedicated to improved relations with humans. This apparently referred only to improved sexual relations with humans because everything involved information regarding pairings that produced Courso-Human hybrids. Because, when you fling people into a foreign world with no hope of return, they’re going to eventually start having flings with the natives. If the number of displays was any indication, the outcasts apparently developed quite a taste for dalliances with humans. One entire side of the room was filled with small rectangular plaques, each engraved with the name of a human with at least one-quarter Courso blood.

  There was also a number after the names, all in the thousands followed by a one or two-digit number after a decimal point. “What’s this?” I asked as I pointed to one about eye level that read “5238.6.”

  “That’s the birth date; the first number is the year and the second is the month. We don’t measure time in terms of when Jesus was born, he did not exist in our dimension. Or, if he did, a huge religion did not develop out of his teachings. Anyway, our calendar begins with recorded history. That number is equivalent to June of 1920.”

  “Who’d have thought there were so many inter-dimensional marriages,” I marveled while taking in the 20-foot, ceiling-to-floor wall of names.

  Nodding, Alex noted, “It’s actually not that common of an occurrence; keep in mind that this represents hundreds of years of progeny. And the numbers have dwindled. If you notice, there are not many new names. After we stopped the forced-immigration in-lieu-of-incarceration policy, fewer liaisons occurred.”

  Scanning the many placards, I could see that the majority of births occurred in roughly a 100-year period beginning with the year 4027.

  “Is everyone recorded?”

  “I suspect not. Courso who have children with humans are supposed to register the birth, but it’s hard to believe everyone complies. Plus, there must be some babies born of whom their fathers are not aware.”

  “And most of them have no idea they are of…mixed heritage?”

  “The original Couryumanixa — humans with Courso blood — may have known,” Alex responded with a shrug. “The exiles were not sworn to keep our existence secret as no one realized there was anyone there from whom that knowledge should be kept.”

  Even if they had sworn, people that are abandoned in a harsh, unknown environment can’t really be expected to adhere to a vow to those who abandoned them in the first place. As I continued to contemplate the irony, another thought occurred to me. I knew that humans with Courso blood generally lacked much magical skill. But the Coursodon are also naturally stronger and faster that humans.

  “Are those with Courso kinship more athletic than regular humans?”

  Alex nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, they are. And, obviously, the more Courso blood, the greater the physical attributes. Many of your world’s most gifted athletes have at least some Courso heritage somewhere in their past.”

  He pointed to a gallery of photos on the opposite wall. The pictures showed people proudly wearing Olympic medals, or hoisting trophies won in some sports competition. One in particular caught my eye. I moved closer and studied it more carefully.

  “Is this who I think it is?” I asked incredulously.

  “Of course. He’s an eighth Courso, I believe. Too bad he chose to use performance enhancing drugs. He really didn’t need them.”

  Still open mouthed, I stared at a picture of Lance Armstrong. Garbed in the coveted yellow jersey, he sat upright on his bike, arms raised in triumph after one of his many Tour de France titles. “Wow. How dominant would a full-Courso be in the human sports world?” I wondered aloud.

  “Completely. In fact, one would have to consciously tone down their physical prowess to still be perceived as anywhere near normal, even for an elite athlete. Maybe while you are here we can catch a football match; then you can appreciate just how fast and powerful Courso athletes are.”

  That sounded like fun. I love soccer, particularly the English Premier League games on cable. While I began to ponder what a Wjxsintiz Whatevers match might be like, for some reason I suddenly realized that aside from an occasional museum employee, we were the only ones in the place.

  “Alex, why is there no one else here?”

  Before he answered, he lowered his head and an odd expression crept across his face — like embarrassment mixed with resignation. “After last night, I was in no mood to deal with being recognized. I knew the museum is closed until the afternoon this day of the week, so I called the curator and asked if we could come by this morning to avoid the crowd.” He looked at me sheepishly. “I usually don’t like to use my family’s position to garner special favors, but I just wanted a couple of hours out in the world without anyone gawking or kowtowing.”

  “Hey, no problem. This is great. No screaming children, no oblivious tour groups taking up more than their fair share of the museum. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with occasionally taking advantage of the perks being you affords.” Hell, if I was second in line for the crown of someplace, I’m pretty sure I’d have no trouble playing the royalty card now and again. “It could come in handy sometime. Is there a Courso-Disney around?”

  ~15~

  After spending a few hours at the museum, we had lunch at a café. Alex knew the owner, and we entered through an alleyway door and went through the kitchen to a small, otherwise unoccupied dining room in the back of the restaurant. You don’t often get a chance to check out the sanitation practices of an establishment’s food preparation areas before you eat somewhere, which I suppose could be a plus. The traveling incognito thing was odd, to say the least. Once we ordered, both the waiter and the bus-person gave Alex a small bow and withdrew quietly.

  Alex watched as they slowly backpedaled to the door. Shaking his head, he said forlornly, “I can’t bear it when I am treated that way. There is no reason to act as if I am better than they are.”

  “Well, you did arrange for a secret entrance and a secluded table. Even if they didn’t know who you are, you’re not exactly keeping a low profile as far as they are concerned.”

  He looked thoughtfully at me. “I never considered that by avoiding the public, I was perpetuating the pretentiousness of entitlement that I abhor.”

  “Oh my God,” I chided. “You sounded just like Sebastian. And if anyone perpetuates pretentiousness, it’s him.” I intended the comment as a jest, but Alex seemed so taken aback, I regretted it immediately. Placing my hand over his, I quickly added, “I’m kidding. You are so not like Sebastian.”

  Alex didn’t respond immediately, but if his dubious expression was any indication, my back pedaling wasn’t completely successful. Eventually, he conceded, “The purported resemblance to my mentor notwithstanding,
you may have a valid point about trying to avoid being recognized. But it isn’t just my misgivings about being conspicuous; you are affected as well. Are you okay with being in the public eye?”

  “I admit it takes some getting used to, but mostly all they do is gawk and make surreptitious comments under their breath which I can’t understand anyway. It’s not much different than when, in high school, I was convinced cornrowed hair was a good look for me.”

  “All right then, he announced as he slapped his hands on the table. “After lunch, we walk out the front door.”

  And we did just that. It wasn’t the grand achievement I had anticipated – there were only three other people in the place when we left. A woman sitting alone was the only one who even noticed us as we strolled through; she looked like she recognized that Alex was someone she should recognize, but couldn’t really place.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent sightseeing. When my feet, which were clad in more-or-less fashionable but not necessarily comfortable shoes, began to protest, we headed for the nearest marqizobaz and back to the Inn. In front of the door to our room, was a tall package wrapped in blue, opaque paper tied with a silver bow. It looked like a holiday goodie-basket, but there was no indication for whom the parcel was intended, nor could we see exactly what was inside.

  Alex picked up the parcel and placed it on a long narrow table under one of the smaller windows. “It’s probably from the Inn’s management,” he remarked, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  I could use some chocolate right about now, I thought as I began to tear at the wrapping. Our midday meal was great, but I always needed a little something in the late afternoon to tide me over until dinner. Or cookies. The paper was tougher than I anticipated and not easily shredded, and I was forced to slow down and untie the ribbon. That accomplished, the stiff covering fell open. Inside, was a deep basket filled with a fibrous material halfway between sphagnum and crinkle-cut paper basket filler. But no food. No anything as far as I could tell.

  Disappointed, I called out, “That sucks, there’s nothing in here,” and started to dig under the tangled brownish filler in hope of discovering something edible. Without warning, something struck out at my hand. I jumped back so fast; I knocked the basket off the table and then crashed into a valet stand that was opposite the window.

  Shouting, “Fuck,” I wind-milled my arms in a futile attempt to keep myself upright. I ended up on my ass in the remnants of what had likely been a pricey antique. As I grimaced at the pain that radiated up my tailbone, Alex burst into the room.

  He frantically looked me up and down and demanded, “Are you alright? What happened?”

  I sat up. “The fruit basket attacked me!”

  Pointing to the overturned container next to the table, a small snake, pale green with white and yellow bands, emerged from the mess. It slithered across the floor and stopped about two feet in front of me.

  “Don’t move,” Alex ordered, “It’s poisonous.”

  “Not moving,” I croaked out nervously. I’ve never been afraid of snakes. In fact, except for the eating of live things whole, they were kind of interesting. But even without ophiophobia, I wasn’t happy about having a venomous one sizing me up.

  Alex went to the bed, removed a pillowcase and slowly maneuvered behind the snake. The reptile remained motionless except for the occasional flicking of its forked tongue. It was almost completely stretched out as its thin, scaly body formed an elongated “s” on the hardwood. It seemed relaxed.

  As Alex crept stealthily closer, it resumed its original course. I heard Alex gasp when it wiggled over my foot and onto my pant leg. Wide eyed and afraid to even breathe, I stared in horror as it reached my thigh, coiled, and tucked its head under itself.

  And it just stayed like that.

  I glanced furtively from the snake to Alex and back to the snake. “Is it asleep?” I wondered, apprehension creeping into my voice.

  Shaking his head, Alex replied, “I have no idea.” He was silent again for a bit, obviously contemplating what to do next. “I could try and zap it, but I don’t want to injure you in the process. As long as it is…resting, I believe I can safely immobilize it without the risk of you being bitten.” He lifted his hand and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he looked down at me, carefully picked up the reptile, and placed it in the pillowcase.

  As the tension abated, I cradled my head in my hands. Alex crouched down in front of me and grabbed my arms.

  “Did it bite you?” he implored, examining my hands carefully.

  “No. It scared the shit out of me when it launched out of the basket, but it didn’t bite.”

  Obviously relieved, Alex wrapped his arms around me and held me close. Then I started shaking.

  “What was that, and why was it in there?” I asked once I had calmed down.

  Rising from the floor, he gently guided me to the arm chair. “It is a Coulubrix. They are not native to this region, so it didn’t just crawl in.” He glanced over at the pillowcase. “Someone did this on purpose.”

  Yanking his cell phone from his pocket, he punched in a number. I could tell he was angry. The little vein on the left side of his head always throbbed when he was pissed off. This time, both temples were pumping. In a clipped tone, he rattled something off in Courso, and abruptly ended the call. As he was finishing the third heated conversation, there was a knock on the door. It was the manager, and he was clearly mortified. As usual, I couldn’t understand what was being said, but I was pretty sure he would have committed seppuku to atone for the booby-trapped basket if Alex had asked. After a lengthy discussion, the fawning functionary made his exit.

  “Well,” Alex began as he shut the door behind him, “The good news is he comped the room.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “Apparently, someone isn’t happy with me.” Another rap on the door announced the arrival of Sebastian.

  “Hello my dear. It never ceases to amaze me that wherever you go, trouble seems to follow,” he pronounced as he swept into the room. “A Coulubrix in Wjxsintiz? Where is the legless vermin?”

  Alex pointed to the pillowcase on the floor and Sebastian picked it up and looked inside.

  “Still immobilized, I see.” Sebastian closed his eyes and I could feel the slight electrical pulse of his magic. Because we shared the same magical core, I sometimes sensed his magic when he used it in my presence. The bottom of the bag began to move.

  “That thing could have killed me. Why did you wake him up?”

  Sebastian shot an exasperated look my way. “There is no need for hyperbole. Even if you were bitten, Alex is more than capable of removing the venom. Besides, you were never in danger of expiring. A few hours of excruciating pain, perhaps, but not death. And I remobilized him so that I could observe him better in hopes of gleaning some information about his origins.”

  Before I could inquire about how watching it move around could possibly provide clues to where it came from, the snake began to thrash wildly and strike at the sides of the pillowcase. Sebastian held the bag-o-snake at arm’s length and quipped, “Now what’s got into him, I wonder?”

  The poor thing was hissing so loud, I was worried it might have a herpetological heart attack. “Leave him alone. He’s probably freaked out because he was trapped in a basket, magically incapacitated and then jammed in 1000 thread-count bed linen.” I grabbed the pouch and immediately, the snake calmed down. “That’s weird,” I said, puzzled.

  Alex crossed the room and stood between me and Sebastian, stroking his chin while he evaluated the situation. “Interesting. Hailey, give the bag back to Sebastian please."

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I handed it over with a shrug. As soon as Sebastian took hold, the snake began to hiss and flail. Alex motioned for Sebastian to return the bag to my grasp, and once I had it, the snake quieted. I extended my arm to place the pillowcase just inches from Sebastian and, sure enough, the reptile resumed its frantic undulations. I re
peated the process of moving the pillowcase back and forth between us, and each time it was closer than about six inches from Sebastian, the Coulubrix freaked out. It seemed calmest when it was near me, and only a little agitated when it was on the other side of the room away from everyone.

  “Well, I believe that explains the sudden cavalcade of creatures at your house,” Alex chuckled when I had finished my Mr. Wizard experiment for the day. “It appears that the combination of your essence and Sebastian’s magic is attracting them. And the reason this ability didn’t manifest itself before was because Sebastian alone is repellent.”

  “And not only to animals,” I teased.

  Sebastian dismissed my jest with a flick of his hand. “I am not an animal lover but, I assure you, my ability to beguile higher forms of life is not in doubt.” He turned to Alex and commanded, “Explain.”

  Alex filled him in on the mammals, birds, reptiles and insects that congregated around me since Sebastian left Tucson. “It’s almost like she is holding court. And there seems to be some sort of an understanding — a truce — between species because there is never any attempt at predation.”

  “That is most unusual,” Sebastian replied when Alex had finished. He then turned to me and inquired, “And you are not calling them to you?”

  “Nope. Don’t really have their numbers programmed into my contacts. They show up all on their own.”

  Sebastian grinned from ear-to-ear like a proud papa. “There is so much to learn about our unique chimera, my dear. When this absurd trial is over, we must explore this in greater detail.”