“Just wait until the summer,” the waitress laughed. Her soft Southern accent made everything she said sound genuine and friendlier than what Sadie was used to. “You’ll feel like your breathing in water.” She set down a glass of ice water and left.
“I’ll be gone before then,” Sadie whispered.
That was one thing her life afforded—constant movement.
She made enough money on advertising from her travel food blog to keep her life adventurous. For the next three months, she’d be living near Oxford, tasting all the delicious fare Mississippi had to offer. Having scouted out the menus as she planned her work itinerary, she’d also be leaving Mississippi about fifty pounds heavier.
Sadie opened the digital notepad on her phone, and typed, “Fried Food Nirvana,” as a possible article title. Staring at it for a second, she deleted it. Not all ideas would be golden.
Three months was just long enough to explore the area and see the sights. She’d meet a few people and taste the culinary delights without getting too close for comfort.
“Country Fried Reporter,” she typed and then deleted. Dammit. Normally she had a collection of good story ideas by now.
Sadie’s main goal in life was to feed her appetite for adventure, feast on people’s cultures and customs, and enjoy their foods without hanging around long enough to become a local. Anthropologically speaking that made Sadie a vampire.
“Vampire reporter sucks her own brain dry of ideas,” she typed in her notes. “As a society, you eat what you are, and I devour cultures. Developed societies boast of their advancement with an array of cuisines, fine dining to fast foods. And developing countries rely on customs to frame their meager but healthier diets.”
That idea she saved. She’d have to take out the vampire bit, but the rest was workable.
For now, Sadie was content in losing herself in all that the South had to offer—starting with Northern Mississippi, down through the Delta, and ending in Memphis. Since the iconic city sat on the border of three states, she was counting Memphis as part of her Mississippi tour.
She pulled out her laptop and personal Wi-Fi device to get a little work done while she waited. It wasn’t a Wi-Fi-computer kind of restaurant, but no one at the other tables appeared to mind.
She opened a document entitled, “Soul Food Tour of the South,” but instead of writing further, she ended up staring at the historic courthouse below, beyond the wrought iron railing. The white building served as the center focus of The Square. It was located in the middle of an island, surrounded by a roundabout. She imagined the cars drove around it in circles, like sharks swimming a moat outside of a castle. Opposite the historic building, restaurants, bars, boutiques, and bookstores framed the picturesque setting.
Oxford seemed as nice of a place as any. And for a moment Sadie wondered what it would be like to live in one location.
As a child, her military father had been relocated almost yearly, taking her from post to post. When she moved out as a young adult, she kept traveling—three months here, six months there, crashing with someone who advertised for a roommate, extended stay hotels. She made no real friends because she was better with first meets and small talk.
Meeting people was easy. Sustaining a relationship was hard.
Sadie had smelled the fried green tomatoes before they appeared. The waitress set the plate down on the table. The woman mumbled something along the lines of, “I’ll be right back with the rest of your order,” before scrambling away.
Sadie turned her attention back to her surroundings. The restaurant had a history if the proud traditions displayed on the walls were any indication. The tin signs and authentic memorabilia looked like they’d hung on the exposed brick walls since the beginning of the last century. Framed posters boasted products from yesteryear that Sadie had never heard of, but could be dated to the early 1900s by the artwork.
All around her, couples—young and old—looked at each other knowingly as waiters and waitresses arrived with their orders. Visitors like Sadie watched while the legendary dishes immortalized on walls of social media materialized onto plates in front of them.
She could spend the next however long, maybe forever, eating her way around Oxford. Easily.
An intermittent draft pestered her until she had to pull her jacket off the back of her chair and throw it over her shoulders. A group of people walked below, initiating conversation with another group at a table next to the railing.
“Hotty Toddy!”
“Hotty Toddy, yourselves.”
They yelled up and down at each other in greeting. Seconds later the waitress joined in on the loud conversation about football prospects, the team’s chances, and the next great quarterback.
What would it be like to be a waitress in this restaurant, coming to the same job day after day for years, knowing nearly everyone who passed by? Or the owner of the restaurant? Generations of family members passing down their legacy.
Part of her always felt she was missing out on something everyone else took for granted. Oxford appeared to have those things—family, traditions, friends, and community pride.
Candy coated music wafted through the square, floating all around the fantastical setting, engulfing the citizens of Oxford in a vibe that lifted spirits and the mood of those who flocked there. The quaint college town had been likened to a bubble or an oasis, and some even went as far as to call it utopia.
She lifted her finger to the keyboard and paused as the conversation died down. A man at the nearby table explained the fine art of formal tailgating in support of the local college’s football team. “… no, not on the tailgates of trucks, tents go up and down the entire grove like a small city… people pay to have it catered... now there is a business opportunity to be had if I didn’t like going to the games and drinking beers so much.”
Laughter erupted in favor of his statement.
“Everything all right?” The waitress motioned toward the untouched appetizer.
Sadie lifted her phone with a small laugh. She opened the camera app. “Photo op. Meals don’t happen anymore unless they’re posted on the Internet.”
“Post away, be sure to tag us,” the waitress said, before winking. “As long as you have something nice to say.”
“Will do,” Sadie said as the woman went about her business.
To keep her word, Sadie stood up and took a picture of the green fried tomato slices. A bright light flashed as she tapped the screen. The picture turned out distorted. She frowned, turning her phone over to see if something was covering the lens.
“What was that light?” the football fan stood and peered over the street below.
Sadie followed his gaze. Two men strode across the street on the opposite side of the square toward the courthouse lawn. They were dressed strangely, part medieval re-enactor, part gothic performer.
The tallest one wore a tank held together with cross lacing up the side and tight pants with matching cross laces along the thighs. The other had a looser tunic style shirt over dark pants and boots. They both carried a messenger-type bags strapped over their chests. Beyond their brown hair, she couldn’t see much else.
“Ha, college towns,” the football fan said to his guests with a boisterous laugh. “Never know what you’ll see.”
The men moved onto the small patch of lawn and stopped to look around, their postures showing they were in serious conversation. One pointed into the distance and tried to walk. The other grabbed his arm and made a sweeping gesture toward the balcony diners. Sadie wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or something else that made her stomach twitch with nervousness or her heart beat a little faster.
Sadie suddenly realized she was standing in the middle of the restaurant.
Slowly, as if it mattered, she lowered herself back into her seat, placed her phone down on the table, and swapped it for a fork. Her eyes remained in the direction of the courtyard to watch what the men would do next.
One of the men turned, and she felt her breath catch
. A sweep of brown hair quickly covered the impression of dark eyes. Maybe she’d been daydreaming about normal for too long, and it had affected her, but she felt a strange pull toward the men, or to be exact, the one closest to her.
The moment felt so simple. First meets were easy. All Sadie had to do was stand up, walk down to the courtyard, and say hello. Then she would be part of that man’s story, a part of whatever interesting thing he was doing on a weekday late afternoon.
She closed her laptop and slid it back into her bag. The fact she wanted to be a part of that man’s story made her do exactly the opposite. She wouldn’t seek him out. She’d stay on task for the day and do her job. Then, tomorrow, she’d do it again. And, in three months, she’d leave Oxford to start over.
3
“Let’s try this way. I see a crowd,” Finn pointed toward a pack of humans passing by the opening of the tight passageway. “We’ll have greater odds with more numbers.”
He began to walk toward the humans when Ivar stopped him. “Look closer and remember what planet we’re on. They are too young by human years.” He gestured in the opposite direction.
Finn did a small circle as he reexamined the site. The short, narrow passageway where they landed gave little sense of a location and yet was exposed on both ends.
Only half of the passageway was covered from above. The corridor appeared to be made from two buildings. An “alleyway,” if he remembered the human word correctly. If someone were to lean against the wall at the wrong time, they’d fall through to Qurilixen. A black door against a white wall marked the general area, and a sign in the passageway read, “Faulkner Alley,” to mark the exact positioning of the magical location. He frowned as he looked at a skull hanging front and center on the door. “This does not feel like the safest place for a portal. If there had been more people someone might have seen us.”
“Yes.” Ivar pointed at the metal skull. “A torture chamber, or prison, perhaps? Either way, it is a clear warning that death awaits us if we go inside.”
“It will work to protect this portal,” Finn decided. “No one would seek death so readily as to come knocking on its door.”
“That is probably why the scouts marked this location as safe for passage, but crossed it off their charts and said no one was to go through to this stop,” Ivar answered. They didn’t know enough about portal travel to change where the openings manifested. “We must take care. We cannot let anyone see us return home. We do not want to be responsible for the humans finding out our location and following us through.”
“We didn’t have a choice. We need to find wives and don’t have the luxury of waiting for pre-approved travel. The elders wouldn’t agree if we were to ask permission first, and then we’d be defying an actual decree.” Finn noticed several people had paused at the end of the passage and were staring at them. “I think no one saw us come through. They’re curious, but no one appears panicked.”
Ivar strode away from the inquisitive group looking at them and headed toward the end of the passageway before stepping out into the sunlight. Finn followed him, making a mental note where they were.
They were in a town. The tightly pressed building and balconies maximized space while blocking distant landscape views. People kept in small groups as they took the many paths winding around a central white building.
“To the rhythm, to the rhythm…”
The scene was just like in the intergalactic broadcasts his people had intercepted.
A green metallic flash in Ivar’s eyes was the only giveaway of how surreal it was for the cat-shifter to be back on the planet Earth.
Finn once again found himself immersed in the blue orb’s decadence, and its people’s unashamed drive to have fun. A smile rested on his features momentarily as he surveyed his surroundings. The rush it gave him was exhilarating. A tingle worked its way over him. His armored shell broke the skin on the back of his hands and several other places on his body, but Finn eased himself back out of the transitory state before it was too late. He had to resist the urge to shift from all the excitement around him.
Careful not to let Ivar see how he felt, Finn swallowed the small lump forming in his throat as he watched the strange yet wonderful humans in their natural habitat.
Humans. They stood in doorways and sauntered about the place before settling in bars and restaurants where they feasted without worry or care for anything but themselves, looking vaguely out into the universe like no one else existed but them.
Their ignorance and passive veneer fascinated him. To Finn, they were shifters who could not shift. Prisoners of their fears, living in denial that there was anything beyond what they knew, until one day their minds could not live with the lie anymore. It was only a matter of time until some alien species made themselves known. It would not be the Draig or the Var, but it would happen.
Finn felt deeply for the unshifted. Their naivety and vulnerability made them even more attractive.
Finn shrugged off feelings of nostalgia and pity to resume his role as leader and savior of his people. Here on Earth he had one goal. To find a mate.
“We go there.” Ivar continued walking, not giving Finn a choice but to follow. “Where people eat. Rafe found his woman in a food place and has had much luck in his marriage. We will go to those locations.”
“Kyran found his woman in a tavern,” Finn reminded Ivar. He pointed in the other direction. “I hear what could be one that way.”
Ivar grabbed his arm to stop him. “We have been to many of those places. I believe your brother to be blessed that night because the gods saw we were new to the planet and lost. Those tavern women are not looking for mates. They are looking for fun.”
“I like fun,” Finn said.
“Do you forget why we’re here?” Ivar’s frown deepened. “This was your plan.”
No. Finn hadn’t forgotten, but it was amusing to poke at Ivar’s serious nature. “Fine. We will look at food places.”
Since they found themselves on grass rather than a sidewalk, Finn positioned his hand on the fence and leaped over it to land on the concrete. He heard Ivar do the same as they made their way toward the balconies where people dined. Cars moved past in the street. He’d learned his lesson about looking for cars on his first visit.
His eyes turned upward. A man stood, making giant motions with his arms before a group of spectators. Next to him was an empty table with dishes.
“We need to choose quickly so we have time to convince them to come,” Ivar stated. “We will be cutting our time close, but we should wait for the evening before grabbing a woman to bring through.”
“The universe didn’t give us much time with these portals, did they? Not even a full day through, and about a year in between portal jumps to the same place. One night hardly seems like enough time for a proper courtship.”
“Perhaps it is enough,” Ivar countered. “Why would you need a year to understand what you should know in a moment? All shifters say it is the same. One look and they know.”
“You don’t think they exaggerate?” Finn didn’t want to confess that he sometimes worried that part of him was broken. “We have seen so many women in our travels here, and not one has spoken to the shifter inside of me.”
“Perhaps you question it too much,” Ivar said. “Besides, we’re not here to find our mates. We’re here to find any mate. This is not about us. It’s about—”
“I know what it’s about,” Finn interrupted, aware of a father and daughter crossing the street toward them. “Now is not the place to discuss it. We’re drawing attention.”
He noted the painted boundaries the man kept his child within and took that same path across to the opposite sidewalk.
“Hello,” a soft voice greeted.
Finn glanced down to the little girl and nodded his head uncomfortably. The child hugged closer to her father’s leg. He knew little about children, especially female children. Since women weren’t being born on his home world, Finn had little in
teraction with them. This one in a pink dress with her dark hair pulled up in a tight bun looked fragile. He thought it best not to step too close.
A low growl sounded behind him as Ivar acknowledged the child. The girl screamed and ran the rest of the way across the street. The father looked upset, but instead of facing Ivar he ran after the girl. It was a wise decision. The cat-shifter could be deadly in a fight, and a human would be no match for his claws.
“What was that?” Finn demanded.
Ivar actually looked confused by what had happened. “I growl at the Var children all the time. It makes them laugh. I think that one might be broken. Did you hear the noise she made?”
“Or she’s human and doesn’t know how to speak shifter,” Finn countered. “Come. We need to hurry before that father turns back. And try not to scare any more locals, particularly their offspring.”
“Hotty Toddy!” a man yelled down from the dining balcony.
Ivar stiffened, as if ready for a fight. He lifted his arms and put his back against Finn’s. The battle cry was echoed several times down each of the side streets until finally it dissipated. The man on the balcony grinned in pride at the wave of sound he’d created as he sat down.
“We should leave,” Ivar stated. “That man must be a commander. See how he stands above the others surveying the area from a vantage point?”
“I don’t think that was a threat,” Finn corrected, more curious than worried about this new location. “I see no one coming for us.”
“Still, perhaps we should show respect to the reigning authorities.” Ivar turned toward the balcony, placed a fist over his heart and bowed. Finn, slower to move, did the same. The balcony man laughed and pointed down at them before pushing to his feet and bowing in return. Under his breath, he said, “Let us retreat to another section of this town, away from that man’s sight.”
Walking around the human town proved to be a fruitless endeavor. All the women they saw were too young, too married, or too pre-mated to human males. None of them caused his inner shifter to surge forth to make claim. Still, Finn hoped he and Ivar would find their true mates, proof that the portal should remain open. That would be the simple route to solving the futures of their people.
Mischievous Prince Page 2
