“Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house.”

- Henry Ward Beecher

“Faelan, do you use preserved cherries in your desserts?” I asked, days after the ‘outing’ to Infinitus and the alarming situation Rob and I had found ourselves in.

“I tend to prefer them fresh but if there are preserved cherries to be used, I sometimes make cherry pie or use them in a fruit compote.”

Bastian made a mock gasp as he picked up a tray of dirty dishes to take into the café.

“You mean you use fruit that isn’t ‘pure’?”

“Concern yourself only with your slaughtered beasts,” Faelan retorted, “and leave the desserts to me.”

Used to their bickering by now I paid it no mind as we worked into the early hours, cleaning up the clutter left by the dinner party. It had been a lovely night that had dispelled all my fears about the guys being able to handle the booking. Because ‘House of Figs’ was not overly large, bookings were limited to a maximum of fifty which meant it avoided larger crowds that might get out of hand. I think, even if the space had allowed for larger groups, Aunt Jo would have still limited it, preferring to have quality over quantity.

As it was, the dinner party that had booked only had thirty guests.

It had been quite a learning experience. The couple who had booked the dinner had come in a week before and spoken to myself and Rob at length about the place settings and table layout. Rob had asked me to take notes though I knew he wouldn’t forget anything they asked for and chose.

“It reassures the customer that we are being attentive.” He explained.

“I’ll make sure to look studious as I write everything down.” I nodded solemnly. Rob eyed me with his upgraded eyes and more sensitive understanding of the world around him.

“I suspect you are being funny…”

“Obviously not.”

‘House of Figs’ had a cellar which I remember being terrified of when I was a child. When the trapdoor opened it was a gaping hole that threatened to swallow me up. I never went down there and Aunt Jo rarely did either as it had a tendency to flood. I learned that Bastian had suggested a floating floor on stilts so that, even if water should seep in, it would be well below the floor. This meant there was ample storage space beneath the house for crockery, glassware, cutlery, tablecloths, decorations and everything else needed for fifty or so guests. And with plenty of lighting, the cellar was no longer creepy but kind of magical. The tables were too large to fit down the trapdoor but there was a sizeable garden shed, tastefully hidden behind a hedge and its exterior, made to look like a log cabin that they and the extra chairs required fitted in. These were all the same, stackable and storable.

“I’m glad the furniture in the café part of ‘House of Figs’ is so eclectic.” I remarked as I dragged another tablecloth off a trestle table exposing its practical but plain body underneath. “There’s nothing romantic about trestle tables or warm and inviting. They’re purely practical.”

“They do take up less space.” Rob held a basket to me and I dropped the tablecloth into it.

“It has been ‘suggested’ that ‘House of Figs’ would be able to fit nearly twice as many people into its interior if only the furniture was changed to be all the same.” Rafael said, his voice dripping with dangerous scorn. I spun around and looked at him in horror.

“I would never say that!” I gasped, thinking he was accusing me.

“He wasn’t talking about you.” Bastian assured me.

I shivered in relief. “Thank goodness. Oh, Rob, this one has wine slopped on it.”

“I will soak them all.”

Despite the lateness, or perhaps the earliness of the hour, we were all determined to pack the courtyard up. A full day of ‘House of Figs’ being open following would leave little time to clean up. Besides, with such efficient workers, we would have it done very quickly.

And it was nice to work with them, laughing and chatting about things that we’d seen and moments that had caught our attention. I’d never had that with any of my work colleagues and certainly not at the school I attended in the city. I liked working alongside the strange group of guys that had invaded my world.

Now and then a niggling thought would return to me that it was possible one of them might have hurt Aunt Jo and put her in a coma…but being suspicious all the time was exhausting and it was easy to be lulled into a sense of security, false or otherwise.

“May I ask what the question about cherries pertains to?” Faelan and Rafael stacked the glassware carefully into a box to be taken inside and washed.

“Oh…when I was helping bring the box of glasses out of the cellar, I noticed a half dozen jars of cherries on a shelf.” I shrugged. “I thought it was odd that they were down there.”

Faelan frowned then his eyes brightened. “Those jars are probably filled with the syrup that the cherries were originally in. I always drain the syrup unless it is required in the recipe. It seemed a waste so I poured the remains back into the jars and sealed them. I did wonder where they had gone as they were originally in the cool room.”

“You did all the right things to seal them first, yeah?” I asked.

“Was there something more I should have done other than latch the lids?” Faelan asked.

“Oh good,” Bastian rubbed his hands, “moonshine!”

“Elf hooch.” I giggled. “I bet Tolkien never thought to put that in Rivendell. We might need to toss those jars.” I looked at Rafael, never quite sure if he was in a mood to bite my head off or be pleasant. “The champagne fountain was beautiful. You’ve got such a steady hand.”

“It comes from many hours of practicing latte art…with varying degrees of success.” Rafael admitted.

“Lovely of them to include us in the toast.” I eyed the pretty autumn hued bouquet with reds, oranges, peaches and yellows in it. It was as though someone had scooped up a handful of autumn leaves and simply tied a big yellow bow around it.

“Query, does having one of the bouquets handed to you also count as catching it?” Rob asked.

“What do you know about wedding bouquets?” Bastian chuckled.

“I have completed extensive research on the wedding ritual as well as every type of cultural reception to ensure I am not remiss in details should a reception be booked here.”

“Were you aware that the dinner party was in fact a small reception for a couple who had eloped?” I asked Rob.

“They did not say it openly but I did hear the young lady ask her husband if people might be angry.” Rob paused. “Query, why would people become irate about an elopement?”

“You should read ‘Romeo and Juliet’.” I suggested.

Rob paused, tilted his head then nodded. “Done.” I slapped my forehead. “Query, are the lives of the couple in danger? Query, should the police be called?”

“No.” I moaned.

“If you’ve studied wedding, surely you must have come across ‘elopement’.” Rafael rolled his eyes, carrying the case of glasses inside. Eustace offered to wipe down the last of the tables and put them away so we could take the crockery inside and clean them. With the five of us, we were a bit crammed in the kitchen but there were two sinks and we made do.

“I understand the term, however, I do not understand the concern of anger regarding it.”

“I suppose some people might be hurt that they weren’t invited to the wedding.” I explained.

“Query, if this is the case, why not avoid elopement and have a traditional wedding?”

“Sometimes it’s a spur of the moment thing.” I dried a dish and put it on the stack that was forming. “They’re on holiday, the proposal comes up and they go, why not!”

Rob blinked. “Curious.”

“Weddings can be expensive and often hopelessly complicated, especially for a single day’s event.” I realised I was on my own in the explanation as the others were listening to me talk. “Sometimes parents don’t understand or families object to marriages.”

“You mean, they elope because it is a match their parents would not approve?”

I looked at Faelan, surprised at him asking the question.

“Well…yeah, sometimes. Not everyone gets along,” I rinsed a glass and laid in on a tea towel, “for instance, and this is extreme, back when segregation was a big thing, what we saw tonight wouldn’t have happened, or if it did, it would have been in secret.”

“Because the husband had dark skin and his wife, your hued skin?”

I liked the way Rob avoided the term ‘white’. It was hopelessly inaccurate.

“Yes.” I sighed. “In our own culture, way back when it was first established, children born of such unions were called ‘creamies’ and looked down upon or even stolen from their parents.”

“Because their bloodline was…contaminated.”

“Woah,” I blinked and looked at Faelan, “that was harsh!”

“It is not inaccurate,” Faelan responded, “if the bloodline had but one culture in it and it becomes mixed with another, it is no longer pure.”

I floundered. “Pure…you know what…pure is…it’s like one of your drinks.”

“This’ll be good.” Rafael rolled his eyes.

“No, really,” I shot him a glare and then looked at Faelan, “say you have a bottle of ordinary lemonade and you put a flavour in it, especially a coloured flavour…then you could say it’s ‘contaminated’…but actually it has flavour.”

Faelan’s eyes were thoughtful. “But what if what was added was ‘impure’?”

“That was the whole argument behind segregation, looking at other humans as lesser and putting them into lower class categories.” I glanced at Rob.

“It seems a common thread in both this world and mine.” He nodded.

“Books tended to be written about themes that have occurred before.”

“Can I ask,” I turned to Faelan, “in your world…are elves all as fair as you?”

“Yes.” Faelan nodded. “The bloodline of my forefathers has been preserved.”

“I suppose that’s why you see a couple like we saw tonight as being ‘wrong’.”

Faelan sighed and turned to me fully. “If I have given you that impression, I apologise, Bethany. That was not my thought at all.”

“Oh,” I blushed, feeling bad about jumping to a false conclusion, “sorry…”

“I, for one, am attracted by the idea of interracial romances…” Bastian gave me a wink. I threw a tea towel at him which he caught deftly and tossed it in the washing basket. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll go back to my den and have forty winks or more.”

“Oh, well…if you could wait…”

“For what?”

I opened my mouth to explain when Eustace entered the café.

“Tables are wiped down and put away.” He announced. “Need anything else done?”

“No, we’re good, thanks.” I said quickly. “Why don’t you check on the egg and have a shower?”

“You sure?” I nodded enthusiastically. Eustace gave a little shrug. “Alright then. Night guys.”

He ascended the stairs to a chorus of ‘goodnights’. I turned the guys and before they could say anything I announced loudly,

“I’ll walk you all out.”

I put my finger to my lips and jerked my head towards the backdoor. I could almost guarantee that Rafael was rolling his eyes, Bastian was doing an exaggerated ‘stealth’ walk and Faelan was more silent than ever as all four followed me to the Observatory. I hustled them inside and closed the door behind us, turning to face them.

“Rob tells me that, while Eustace’s ears are sensitive, he shouldn’t hear us if we’re in here with the doors closed and our voices low.” I said softly.

“And the point of this pantomime?” Rafael asked dryly.

“Look, I think we all have to agree that Eustace hasn’t been himself since dragging me to dragon world and the whole saga with the egg.”

“Yeah,” Rafael snorted, “he’s been much more bearable.”

“You only commented yesterday that Eustace had lost his bounce.” Bastian called the vampire out. “Stop being such a hard arse.”

I wanted to applaud Bastian’s words but I had to get the conversation back on track.

“He’s not happy and what with his all consuming need to protect the egg and somehow ‘atone’ for what he did out of ignorance, he’s barely left that lounge room.” I licked my lips. “I’m also concerned that he’s not reverting back to his dragon form or having any ‘water therapy’ time.”

“He has bathed several times in the stream in the gulley past the edge of the property.” Faelan reassured me.

“That’s nothing like a proper soaking,” Bastian shook his head, “and I think he’s conserving what reserves he has inside his body.”

“He used a bucket of water to clean the tables tonight.” Rafael admitted. “The old Eustace would have held his nose and shaken like a dog. And we would have been drenched…”

“But it goes to show that we’ve all seen a drastic change in his personality.”

Faelan eyed me firmly. “Do you have an idea or are you asking for one?”

“I’ve got an idea,” I admitted, “in three days, or rather, the day after tomorrow now, ‘House of Figs’ will have a closed day. I know it’s your day off and I hate to ask…”

“The plan is to offer to babysit the egg to enable Eustace to return to his world.” Rob explained.

I nodded, glad Rob had finally made the request over my blundering and hesitation.

“It’s his responsibility towards the egg that binds him to this world…practically to the lounge room,” I sighed, “if he knows it’s in good hands…”

“Why do you need all of us?” Rafael asked. “You could babysit the egg for a day without our help. Eustace trusts you.”

“I’ve offered but he won’t have it.” I looked at them all. “I thought, with all of us kind of…ganging up on him…that he’ll that know we care and that we’re serious.”

Bastian pressed his hand over his heart. “What a tender soul you are…”

“Have you given any consideration,” Faelan said before I could tick Bastian off for his flirting, “to the possible danger of his world? The door has not been opened since you locked it. We know not in what state it is.”

I sagged. “I…I don’t know what else to do. If he could fly to the ocean in this world and swim for hours without risking being spotted by a surfer or satellite, then I’d tell him to go for it but the last thing we need is a blurry picture of a dragon frolicking off one of the most popular beaches in the country going viral.” I looked at Rob. “We know there’s no ocean in Infinitus. Do you three have any ideas?” I turned to the others.

“It is a long way to the ocean from where the door opens into my world,” Faelan admitted, “and there are other dragons who would view his presence as an affront to their territory.”

“I’m sure there are oceans in my world,” Bastian shrugged, “but humans tend to populate near the coastlines and lakes and they are very good at hunting.”

I wondered briefly whether or not he knew that firsthand.

“Rafael?” I asked the vampire. “Would Engaland be an option?”

He shook his head. “It’s pretty well winter there all the time. The surface of the lakes are frozen and I’ve never even seen a coastline. I can’t say for certain that we even have oceans.”

“Then it seems Eustace’s world is the best option.” Rob concluded.

“Without that crazed ‘mother’ dragon raging, it should be safe and all the elemental dragons have the attention span of goldfish.” I tapped my teeth together. “He needs to know that growing up doesn’t mean losing fun from his life.” I licked my lips and dropped my hands. “What do you say?”

Out of all people to agree, I never thought the vampire would be first.

“Count me in.”

“Really?” I blurted and everyone else was just as surprised.

“What?” He shrugged off our stunned looks.

“I will help as well.” Faelan nodded.

“Bring egg sitting on.” Bastian paused. “We don’t actually sit on it, do we?”

“No.” I giggled. “I’ll even ask Jet if he’d like to help out. We’ll spring it on Eustace tomorrow after closing.” My shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you so much.”

“My lady…” Bastian bowed with regal flare, gave me a heady look with his amber eyes and returned to his world. Faelan and Rafael were quick to leave as well.

“That went better than I expected.” I said to Rob as we left the Observatory and headed inside.

“Did you doubt the calibre of your companions?”

“Well…not doubt the calibre…but I did wonder if I could reach them. I mean, Bastian and Faelan are fine…but Rafael…”

“Your success is to be commended.”

“Oh, don’t commend it just yet.” I breathed. “We still have to get Eustace to agree.”

I got about five hours sleep before my alarm started barking at me. I hit snooze three times before dragging myself out of bed and making it downstairs after Rafael’s takeaway coffee window had already opened.

“Nice of you to join us.” He remarked, sipping his coffee.

I yawned, unable to think of a decent retort in my dozy state.

Rob handed me my apron, notebook and pen. I thanked him through another yawn.

“Next time we do a booking, we need to make it on the day before a closed day.”

“How many hours of sleep did you get?” Bastian asked, firing up the grill and seasoning it.

“Not as many as you.” I sighed. “How are you so damn…awake?”

“Time flows a great deal faster in my world.” Bastian grinned wickedly. “A day passed so I’ve slept twice.”

“Ugh…”

“I can go several days without sleep,” Faelan explained as he popped mini cheesecakes out of their moulds, adorning each one with a drizzle of fruit compote, an elegant bow made from toffee and a strawberry nestled against their sides, “and if I feel weary, I simply rest in nature.”

“I do not require sleep and as such, all the tablecloths are clean and all the ingredients for your baking today, Faelan, are prepared as ordered.”

“You’re worth more money, Rob.” I shook my head and then paused. “You are paid…aren’t you?”

“Technically we’re ‘volunteers’.” Bastian did the exaggerated parenthesis with his fingers.

“You’re not serious…” I gasped.

“Hard to pay people who, technically, don’t exist.”

“But…all the work you do…”

“We enjoy it,” Faelan insisted, “and material wealth matters little to an elf.”

“The Wolfgang stronghold of Befest is a rugged and warm place…” Bastian boasted, winking at me. “What need have I for paltry human money?”

“Rob?” I turned to the robot. “Surely you receive a wage…”

“I do not require food but I am supplied with room, board, clothing and sanctuary.” Rob replied.

“I’m starting to feel really selfish about my wage…” I whispered.

“We are compensated.” Bastian assured me. “Instead of a wage, we have a budget.”

“That’s just for supplies that keeps the café running.” I argued.

“No, this is a budget to fund our own creativity.” Bastian rubbed his hands. “I’ve got an order with the butcher for lamb cutlets and all the ingredients to make a Moroccan feast.”

“Rafael buys all kinds of coffee from all over the world.” Faelan nodded towards the vampire. “My own dessert creations come from research and experimentation.”

“And Eustace always eats the fails.” Bastian laughed.

“I guess…as long as you don’t feel like you’re being taken advantage of…” I could have sworn Rafael shook his head and muttered ‘unbelievable’ but I didn’t pay him any attention. I glanced at Faelan. “Are you sure you’re going to be free enough to come to the hospital today? You look pretty busy back there.”

“So long as someone can serve my creations…”

“Eustace will come down when we go,” I reassured him, “and we’re all good for our ‘intervention’ after closing?” They all nodded. “Okay…then I’d better wake up. It’s a big day.”

Thankfully being on my feet kept me from remembering how tired I was and by the time Faelan and I set out for the hospital, I’d forgotten I hadn’t had my preferred eight hours.

Faelan was carrying a two box stack with us so I opted for a taxi to take us there. I didn’t feel the need to avoid them as I once had because my wage from ‘House of Figs’ was a good one. At the hospital he presented one box to the emergency department staff and then I showed him to the ICU. Word spread quickly through the department of the three dozen, lighter than air, cupcakes with a stethoscope piped in blue onto the smooth white icing surface.

“I think I should have made more.” Faelan remarked as more nurses poked their heads in, asking had they missed out.

“You made thirty six!” I shook my head. “You can’t be expected to feed the whole hospital.”

“Mind you,” Dr Ishani was there, enjoying her top end cupcake with her crappy instant coffee, “you might have some more desperate souls turning up at your aunt’s café after this.”

“Wish we could do a mobile service or something…” I mused.

“We’ve got legs. We can make the effort.” Dr Ishani chuckled.

I looked around at the hospital, the beige walls and the tired staff and clucked my tongue.

“I tell you what,” I announced, “I’m gonna make it ‘House of Figs’ policy that if anyone who works here comes, buys a cup of coffee and shows their hospital ID, you get a bonus muffin or something. And not a leftover one. They’ll be good ones.”

“I’ll spread the word.” Dr Ishani winked.

I smiled as she walked away and led Faelan to the room where my aunt rested. I paused upon opening the door.

“What is it, Bethany?” Faelan asked.

“That was a bit…presumptuous.” I grimaced. “I just committed ‘House of Figs’ to a discount…I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Not at all. I believe it would be something your aunt would have done.”

“Yeah…but it’s her business.” I sighed. “Whether I like it or not, I don’t really have the authority.” I put my hands on my hips. “But it’s my commitment and I’ll sacrifice from my wage to make sure we don’t go short.”

“I would be more than happy to make enough muffins, cupcakes and anything else required.” Faelan replied warmly.

I smiled at him then showed him into the room. Aunt Jo lay quietly, machines beeping their little melody around her.

“In retrospect, I should have brought you here ages ago.” I murmured. “If anyone has a chance of healing Aunt Jo…”

“I will try.” Faelan assured me.

“I’ll just shut the door a little in case someone thinks you’re weird.” I closed it halfway and glanced back at Faelan who was staring at my aunt. “Well…what are you waiting for?”

“I cannot heal her.” Faelan said flatly.

“What?” I whispered. “You…that was quick to give up!”

“I could not even try.” Faelan admitted. “Jo…her mind is gone…”

My knees wobbled. I grasped the edge of the bed. “Well…there’s not a lot of neural activity…”

“No, you do not understand,” Faelan turned to me, “in order to heal her, I must join my mind, my spirit to hers and pass along my genetic ability to heal. I give of myself in order to do so…but I cannot heal what does not exist.”

I sank onto the chair. “You mean,” I whimpered, “she really is brain dead?”

“That is not what I feel upon looking at her.” Faelan frowned. “I do not know much about humans and their mental state but it is not that her brain is dead. There is something there…but…her mind…the essence of who she is, is…gone.”

I let out a sob before I could stifle it. Faelan gazed at me, distressed.

“Bethany…”

“It’s not your fault,” I sniffed, feeling my chin tremble precariously, “I guess I got my hopes up.”

Faelan stood in the shadow by the bed. “You should not take my inability to heal her as a sign to give up. It may simply be something she has to do on her own.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, standing and rubbing my nose. “And if there was anyone so dogged and determined that she would attempt to do a thousand piece puzzle of van Gogh’s starry night, then she can put her mind back together.”

We didn’t stay long. I felt odd talking to Aunt Jo as if she was awake with others present. Faelan asked some questions about the equipment and what it all I did. I answered him as best I could. I think we were both relieved to leave, struggling with our own inadequacies.

Rather than skirt the CBD on the way home, this time I deliberately went down it, glancing from side to side, searching for a shop front. I needn’t have worried about missing it. The large red and white striped candy pole out the front with the round ball on top with the glass window in the background embossed with the words ‘The Scissor Wizard’, was a dead giveaway.

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“Would you mind if I went in here?”

“Do you require a haircut?” Faelan eyed me. “Is it not short enough?”

“No, not for me.” I laughed. “Besides, this place is more for guys and their facial hair…oh…I’ve never heard of an elf with a beard…”

I swear Faelan shuddered slightly at the thought. I ducked into the barber shop and an older man with wrinkles, no hair on top of his head and a black apron wrapped around himself, ambled over to me.

“How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if I could book a friend for a cut?” I asked, taking in the sight of the barbershop’s furnishings. It was delightfully vintage but what was even better was it was probably authentically so. There were two chairs in the shop that looked like they weighed a tonne and were made from World War II steel. There was something heavy and intimidating about them and about the great black and white photos on the wall and the brushes and shavers for doing facial hair.

“Now?”

“Oh no,” I could just imagine the look on Jet’s face if I called him and told him to come on down, “he needs to be prepared.”

The gentleman looked in his wrinkled book and ran his knobbly finger down the days. “I’m booked solid tomorrow cause I’m on my own…what about the day after?”

“Great. What time?”

“Ten?”

“Perfect. His name’s Jet.” I was just putting it in my phone when he handed me a card with the time and date on it. “Thanks. Oh,” I frowned, “I should have asked first…my friend is a bit sensitive to clippers. Like…runs scared. Could you use only scissors?”

He chuckled. “I’ve got me a grandson the same way. I’ll make a note of it in the book in case I do something senior and forget.”

“Thank you.” I breathed out in relief. “Personally, I think scissors sound scarier.”

“Well, we’re all entitled to our oddities.” He nodded to the window. “Tell your friend he’s safe with me.”

I glanced at Faelan through the window. He was wearing a jumper with the hood up, long strands of blonde peeking out of its shadowed curve. Though he wasn’t in the shop with us, his eyes widened and he shook his head slightly.

I laughed loudly. “Oh…no not him. I’d never get him to cut his hair. No, it’s another friend with a brown mop that needs…help. Thank you so much.”

I exited the shop and couldn’t resist a slight smile at Faelan. “You sure you don’t want just a little trim?”

“Yes.”

We continued to walk down the street. “I can’t imagine a male elf with a crew cut.”

“With good reason.”

I pointed to my hair. “I mean, I’ve seen movies with women playing elves who have hair as short as mine but it’s always called a ‘pixie cut’ not an ‘elf cut’.”

“Indeed.”

We continued to walk. “Mind you, if you got it cut, you wouldn’t have to wear the hoodie when we’re out in public.”

“I will suffer the hoodie beyond ‘House of Figs’ and in the café, I will tie it back for the sake of its length.” Faelan assured me.

It was funny seeing him dressed so normally. Even in ‘House of Figs’ there was something vaguely elvish about him but in the real world, wearing his skinny jeans and white trainers with an oversized hoodie on, he didn’t stand out at all.

I imagined Aunt Jo, sitting down at her computer, getting the guys to choose clothing that they liked so that they fit in better here yet still maintained some sense of their own style. While they all wore jeans, Faelan and Rafael preferred the skinny style over Bastian’s baggier look. However, Rafael always wore black jeans whereas Faelan preferred blue. Bastian liked his ‘Fast and the Furious’ muscle shirts, Rafael’s were always more tailored and stylish while Faelan liked cotton tshirts and hoodies with long sleeves and in natural colours. Rob was much more casual in his appearance and Eustace preferred cargos, oversized runners and tshirts. Even their shoes were very different, from Bastian’s chunky Doc Martins to Rafael’s patent shoes and Rob’s loafers.

I realised I’d been so distracted thinking about the guys that I’d missed Faelan’s question. I just caught my name at the end and looked at him.

“Huh?”

“I said it was a considerate thing you did, booking Jet a haircut. You are very caring.”

I felt a blush steal over my cheeks. “I don’t care about him…”

“You do,” Faelan insisted, “in the same way that you care about Eustace and his wrestle with responsibility and how you offered a special to the doctors and nurses of the hospital. You felt compassion and you acted on it.”

“Oh!” I was relieved he wasn’t inferring anything more. “I don’t know that I’m all that caring. Jet’s hair bugs me…but if it didn’t bug him I’d tell myself to get over it. But it does irritate him so I thought I’d look into it. And Eustace…well how could I not see how he’s suffering? And as for the staff at the hospital…they really do an amazing job under difficult conditions,” I shook my head, “it’s certainly not something I could ever do.”

“Given your caring nature I would have thought a career in compassion would have been appealing to you.”

“Not a big fan of blood…or guts…” I shuddered. “Besides, unless I was going to be a highly sought after specialist who works one day of the week and plays golf the rest…”

“Do you have a compunction to play this ‘golf’?”

“No,” I laughed and shook my head, “no…that’s only what my parents envisioned for me. Something that was highly reputable and deeply profitable.” I felt my phone buzz and glanced at it. As if summoned by my musings, the name of the caller was ‘Dad’. I flicked it to ignore and shoved it in my pocket. I’d message him later…maybe. “You want to get an ice cream?”

We each got a waffle cone. I got two scoops of honeycomb with a stick of chocolate crammed in the top and Faelan chose salted caramel and was somewhat bemused when it arrived adorned with pretzels.

It wasn’t really the weather for ice cream but the sun was out and we could fool ourselves that it was warmer than the temperature app claimed. We opted to go back to the café via a small portion of the ‘heritage walk’ which took in the sights of some of the most illustriously vintage buildings, rambling parkland and native flora as well as several creek crossings. We found a set of swings that had a view of a creek and sat down to eat.

“I take it your parents would not have approved of your current job?”

“Waitressing?” I snorted. “No. Not even as a side job to my studies.”

“What were you studying?”

“Oh…real estate.” I shrugged. “Actually, my parents had gotten me a ‘coveted’ placement which turned out to be one of several placements and instead of learning from ‘the boss’ I was relegated to head of the apprentices which meant no one liked me and I had to do more of the grunt work while answering to the apprentice supervisor.”

“This does not sound pleasant.”

“That’s an understatement.” I licked a dribble of honeycomb before it could escape. “I could have been a business degree holder like Kendra if I’d done double the workload…and been born four years earlier.” I looked at Faelan. “She’s the dreaded perfect cousin.”

“We have met.”

I looked at him in surprise, sitting on the swing without clutching at the chains. “You have?!”

“She has visited ‘House of Figs’ several times.”

“Why on earth would she do that?” I groaned. “She’s the one who said about cramming more people inside with boring furniture, isn’t she?”

“I was not there at the time of the comment…”

“I bet it was her.” I shuddered. “Dad keeps saying, are you sure you don’t want me to tell Kendra about ‘House of Figs’? You know she’s got a business degree…” I grunted, sure I sounded bitter and childish.

“You do not speak of your father much.”

I shrugged, watching random leaves wandering down the creek. “We’re not really on speaking terms. Well…we speak…if I can’t avoid it.” I pulled a face. “My mum…she died six months after doctors discovered she had an aggressive and rare bone cancer a year ago.” I swung on the swing a little. “I mean…I know it wasn’t his fault, that the cancer was well beyond curable but, a few months before the cancer was discovered…dad got caught out having an affair with his secretary…I mean, how cliché is that?” I looked at Faelan whose pale eyes revealed nothing. I turned back to the creek. “When the cancer was discovered, he ended the affair and came racing back but the damage was done. Mum was dying and I pretty well hated him.” It was strange to talk it out with someone I barely knew but Faelan’s calm presence was as soothing as watching the creek’s clear, gently flow. “We might have had a chance at reconciling…or if I’d given it a chance we might have…but I didn’t and after mum died, he went back to the woman he was having the affair with.” I nudged a rock with my shoe. “Not long before I came to Glenwilde, two days before I broke up with Eden, actually, he called and said he’d asked this woman to marry him.” I slid off the swing and turned to him. “Shall we go?”

Faelan fell into step beside me and I wondered if I’d said too much.

It was all a bit ‘Days of our lives’.

“I am sorry you cannot respect your father. But can you at least love him?”

“Look,” I swallowed, “if he died tomorrow, I’d probably regret all the things I never got to say or the fact that I didn’t swallow my pride and reconciled…it’s not that I don’t love him deep down…but I’m pretty damn angry with him.”

“For that I am sorry.” Faelan said kindly. “My father is the king of the elves of Iffah and sometimes I struggle to comprehend the weight of responsibility on him but I would never question it or disagree. I know it is not just for my benefit that he has to remain strong and vigilant yet it can make him a little…”

“Hard to please?”

“Indeed,” Faelan raised his chin, “but I love him just as you love yours, even when everything else is confusing. It is back to that truth that we return.”

“What about your mother?” I asked, keen to move the topic off of myself.

“She died ten years ago.”

“Oh I’m sorry…” Now I felt wretched.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yeah but still…” Faelan did not seem unsettled by the admission. I looked ahead through the trees, seeing the sunbeams break and then shine again, creating shafts of light that highlighted leaves and sharped edges while deepening shadows, the smell of eucalyptus all around. “What’s your world like, Faelan?”

“My world?”

“You never talk of it.”

“There is much to say. What would you like to know?”

I hoped I wasn’t being too obvious as I began to lead the conversation around to my deepest interest. “Where does the door lead?”

“Into the ruins of Xephis, a line of highborn elves that was lost a millennia before my time.”

“Are they in a forest?”

“In the hill country where the forest gives way to the sharp incline of the mountains that are impassable to the north.” Faelan explained. “The earth is dry and the air is clean. The ruins have been battered by winds and most of their civilisation has eroded away but a single arch remains amongst the rubble. It is there that the door exists.”

“So you travel every day to the door?”

“It is not far for a nimble elf like myself.” He insisted.

“Where do you live?” I popped the last of the waffle cone into my mouth and tried to crunch it quietly.

“The Iffah elves live in the valley where the earth is rich and the trees grow so large that their roots are paths, their trunks are immense columns and their branches interlock above, forming the ceiling. I use the term ‘city’ loosely as I have seen earth cities and my home does not look like that,” Faelan explained, “but our city exists within and around these trees, waterfalls cascading down two sides of the valley to fill the river, pouring out to where the hills grow soft and the land is lush.”

“Sounds beautiful.” I hoped my tone was light and breezy. “I’d love to see it sometime.”

Faelan looked at me, his pale eyebrows arched in surprise. “You wish to visit my world?” He asked.

“Well, yeah,” I was taken aback by his question when he’d just described a virtual paradise, “I mean, I’ve been to dragon world and future world…”

“I…perhaps I have boasted too much of its beauties that I missed telling of the dangers…”

He was moving ahead of me on the track. I felt a little slighted and skipped to reach him.

“They weren’t enough to keep Aunt Jo away.”

Faelan looked at me sharply. “How…did you know that?”

I thought hastily. “Rob told me,” I said, dodging around admitting about the haiku clue breadcrumb trail, “he said she’d been.”

“Well…”

“Maybe he was mistaken…” I walked in silence, wondering if Faelan was about to lie. He’d been an open book when talking about his world but the moment I said I wanted to visit, I felt as though the covers had been slammed shut in my face.

“No, Rob is correct,” Faelan admitted and I let out a held breath of relief, relieved he hadn’t told an outright lie, “Jo did ask to visit and I took her…”

“Just the once?”

“I escorted her on three occasions but she visited by herself several times.”

“So…it can’t have been too dangerous.” I hinted.

Faelan didn’t reply or make an offer. I felt like I might have been pushing it had I asked again so we headed out of the park and reached the cul de sac with ‘House of Figs’ in sight.

“Why don’t you go on ahead?” I suggested. “I’m going to let Jet know about his haircut.”

“Very well.” He lengthened his stride and reached the gate as I knocked on Gary’s front door. He opened it and smiled.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the loveliest lady in the cul de sac.”

“Hi Gary,” after Bastian’s heavy flirtations, Gary’s compliment was easily assimilated, “is Jet in?”

“In his room undoubtedly.” Gary sank into a chair. “Don’t mind me, I’m just watching a re-run of Wheel of Fortune.”

“Is that so you know all the answers?”

“Don’t know. I nod off halfway through.”

I laughed and went to Jet’s room and knocked. “What?”

“Come in is politer or even a nice, who is it?” I ticked him off through the door. The slab opened and Jet, with his hair sticking out around his headphones, appeared in the gap.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“I’ve had warmer welcomes…” I muttered. “You got a minute?”

“It’s paused,” he said, jerking his head to the screen, “what’s up?”

“First thing’s first,” I handed him the card for the barbershop, “I made you an appointment for the day after tomorrow,” Jet opened his mouth, “and before you say anything, I already told him you don’t like clippers and he even made a note to use only scissors.”

Jet looked at the card and I was surprised to see him so apprehensive. I began to wonder if I’d overstepped my bounds. It wasn’t up to me to try to ‘scrub’ Jet up and make him presentable.

“If you don’t want to go…” I offered.

“They always ask me, what do I want…” Jet sat on his computer chair. “I never know what to say. I just want my hair cut.”

“Google pictures, get an idea of what you like.” Jet’s unimpressed expression told me I was barking up the wrong tree. “I know,” I sat on the edge of the unmade bed, “go in there and tell the barber you need something that doesn’t require loads of mirror time and that works with your headphones. You need it to be practical without being army spec. If you don’t really care about style, then leave it in the barber’s hands. He can hardly make it worse than it is.”

This seemed to arm Jet with confidence and a strategy. He set about entering the details into his phone. The room was not a bad size and it was clearly set up for a gamer. He had no less than three screens at his corner computer desk, one in front and two smaller ones on the sides. His computer tower looked like something from Star Trek and his keyboard was a far cry from the crappy complimentary ones you get with a typical computer order. There was an air of custom made professionalism about them. There was a built in wardrobe with one door open. Rather than be irritated at the laziness of being incapable of closing the door, I was deeply impressed with the way it was organised. Shirts were folded neatly and stacks with precision Rob would be proud of, shoes were lined up, all of the same make just in different colours and even his jeans were on hangers.

He could have removed the doors and just let the neatness speak volumes…

…pity about the bed…

I was itching to make his bed but was frightened at what I might discover in it. Then I couldn’t handle it anymore and dragged all the linen off, careful to avoid dropping it onto the power board with USB charge cables resembling Medusa’s hair sticking out of it. I quickly began tucking in the sheet tightly, relieved not to find boxers or socks or crumbs in the bed.

“What are you doing?”

I could tell he was a little irritated so I turned on him and put my hands on my hips.

“You don’t like your food touching,” I told him, “I can’t handle this…” I pointed to the mess.

“Yeah but I don’t come to your house and rearrange the food on your plate.”

I growled. “Seriously, you don’t mind this?”

Jet shrugged. “It’s…making a double bed is a pain…and I hate the top sheet. It gets caught under everything.”

“Then don’t use it.” I fluffed up the doona in its cover and flicked it over the bed. It was with no small satisfaction that it fell almost perfectly into place. That never happened for me at home. “Then it’s just a matter of putting the pillows on.” I tossed him a set of two, gave my two a good shake to restore their shape and set them on the bed, Jet following my example. “There, so much better.”

“Yeah, it is.” Jet nodded and saw my look. “What? I don’t like making it but I don’t like the mess either.” He frowned. “Are you going to sit on it now?”

“You don’t have another chair.” I pointed out and sat on the corner. “I’ll straighten it before I go.”

Jet sat back in his computer chair. “Did you come just to clean my room and get my haircut?”

“I’ve come from the hospital.”

“Oh.”

“Most people would ask, and how’s your aunt today?”

Jet shrugged. “If she was better, you’d be happier instead of grouching at me.”

“Ugh…”

“Who went with you today?”

“Faelan.”

“Did you ask about his world?”

“I tried.” I tapped my teeth together. “We were chatting, sharing stuff about each other and then the moment I asked about visiting his world…down slammed the door of ‘you shall not pass’.”

“Worlds where elves lives are often filled with dangers like dragons, ogres, trolls, orcs, goblins, necromancers, giants…”

“He also admitted that Aunt Jo had visited his world…sometimes not even with him.” I argued then shrugged. “I don’t get it. She didn’t just go once to lay a clue. She went multiple times…”

“Maybe she discovered something there that made her realise that things weren’t as ‘rosy’ as Faelan makes out.”

“Oh…” I froze, recalling something that had always troubled me.

“What?”

“The haiku that she wrote about Faelan’s book…”

“I didn’t take pictures of those.” Jet admitted.

“I don’t remember it all except the last line bugged me. It talked about the purity of elves…at least I assumed it was them, something about being separated and then the last night said, ‘Hearts as dark as sin’.” I pulled a face. “Does that sound like elves to you?”

“Maybe you got the haiku in the wrong place.”

“The others seemed to line up with the other books.” I shook my head. “I suppose, ultimately, they had nothing to do with the locking mechanism. They were the clues leading me to the books. Even if I did get the clues wrong, I got the books in the right place…”

“Then maybe there really is something much more dangerous in Faelan’s world that he’s not letting on.”

“Maybe…”

“If that’s the case, look on the bright side.”

“Do tell.”

“Your aunt will have put the clue somewhere close to the door. I mean, she wouldn’t have endangered your life by putting it in the den of a lion, right?”

I paused. “Huh…that’s a good point.” I checked the time. “Nearly closing. Come on, you can be another body to bully Eustace into going home for a bit.”

“But…I was about to…”

“People are more important than games.” I chewed him out and he slumped and got up to follow me. As we walked past Gary, who had awoken to the sound of the end credits of ‘Wheel of Fortune’, glanced at us as we went.

“Off for a stroll, Jet, with your lady friend?” He asked none too subtly.

“Gonna get a coffee.” Jet replied, not answering the light taunt.

“Oh…mind if an old man tags along?” Gary peeled himself out of his chair. He smelled of mothballs and clothing that needed a bit of a wash. It wasn’t an offensive smell but it was very old. I wondered how much longer he’d be around. “I could use a decent coffee.”

“You’re more than welcome.” I insisted.

Gary slowed our pace quite a bit. Thankfully we didn’t have far to go, entering ‘House of Figs’ as the last customers were winding up with their meals and scraping the delicious remnants of their desserts from their plates.

“Rafael,” Gary said as we entered, “a flagon of your finest!”

“Aye sir.” Rafael nodded, taking down a decent sized mug and selecting a bag of beans.

Bastian and Rob were speaking, Bastian chortling and giving Rob a shove.

“What’s with you two?” I asked, taking the plate holding a sandwich Bastian had made for me. It was made from two large pieces of sourdough bread with curls of meat inside and a rainbow of shredded fresh vegetables layered on top including beetroot, carrot, red onion, cucumber and a dressing that reminded me of guacamole but was able to be drizzled on top.

“Our new and improved Rob,” Bastian jerked his head towards the emotionless robot, “was asked out today, not once but twice!”

“Really?” I looked at Rob who nodded.

“Bastian’s simply miffed that they were more interested in Rob than himself. One of them was rather an attractive young woman.” Rafael opened a fresh bottle of milk. “Full strength, Gary?”

“Lord no, I’ll be up all night.” Gary sank into an armchair. “Must have something to do with your new look, Rob. I like the hair. You’ve spruced yourself up. Might be for a young woman you have in mind?”

“I assure you it was not a romantically based decision to alter my appearance.” Rob paused. “I did not realise it was so radical a change. Query, was I truly so…unappealing?”

“No!” I exclaimed, probably a little too loudly and forcefully and immediately regretted it.

“Do tell, Miss St James?” Bastian chuckled.

“Bethany did seem rather…absolute in the matter.” Faelan spoke for the first time behind the safety of his kitchen counter.

“I just meant,” I had to stop myself from gritting my teeth, “that you’re making him out to have been a car wreck before. He was a good looking guy.” But even I couldn’t deny that the ‘upgrade’ had significantly altered Rob. It was nothing overt thanks to the attempt to make him look like he was before the upgrade so the changes could be explained away by simply having a makeover…but before, the ‘perfection’ he exhibited had made it a little hard to relate to him, especially when there were easy to smile hunks like Bastian winking from behind the counter or Faelan’s fresh, open expression. Now Rob had gained subtly in expressing emotions and his slightly tousled yet stylishly so hair had made him much more approachable and even desirable.

“There’s a world of difference between good and boots under the bed.”

“Oh honestly.” I muttered at Bastian then turned to Rob. “Are you gonna go?”

“Query, on both dates?”

“Not at the same time…or just one of them…”

“Do you good to have a social life.”

We all laughed as someone, probably Bastian, told Rafael that his statement was the equivalent of the pot calling the kettle black.

“While I am flattered by the attentions,” Rob said kindly, “I shall decline. I am quite content with my current existence.” He said smiling with his new and improved soft expression, his eyes alighting on me ever so briefly.

I felt myself blushing and looked away, seeing Gary’s eyes lit on me briefly. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Ah to be young and in love…”

“What about yourself, Gary?” Bastian asked.

“Me?”

“You’ve been around a while,” only the charm of a werewolf could allow him to get away with that statement, “surely you must have had your share of romance?”

“I was too preoccupied with running around and working to pay much attention to the affairs of the heart.” Gary admitted. “When it occurred to me that I’d been remiss, I was concerned that no one would love an old codger like me. Fortunately Debbie, Jet’s grandmother, took pity on me and my bachelor state and gave me a wonderful family.” He smiled softly. “We had a good twelve years together…but the irony is though she was younger than me by at least a decade, she passed away well before her time.”

We all paused, sensing the weight of the moment and grieving a little with Gary.

“Ah, pay no attention to an old man’s whimsy,” he waved his hand, accepting his coffee from Rafael, “at my age we must comfort ourselves with the saying, growing old beats the alternative.”

“Here, here.” Faelan held up his glass and we all toasted Gary’s sentiment.

I realised that, with Gary in the café, it would be difficult to confront Eustace but he didn’t stay long after draining his cup. Bastian sent him home with enough mouth watering meat to make dinner a breeze. Gary waved goodbye and headed down the path towards his house.

“Right,” I turned around, “now we just need Eustace to make an appearance.”

“I’ll count him in, in five, four, three, two…”

“Did someone want me?” Eustace appeared on the stairs.

I glanced at Bastian and he gave a saucy grin.

“Eustace, we wanted to talk to you. Come and sit.” I urged everyone to leave their posts and sit around the table with Eustace sat firmly at the end.

“Have I done something wrong?” He asked, his usually upright hair looking flat and limp.

“No, not at all.” I insisted. “But we are worried about you.”

“You’re not yourself lately.”

“And that’s not always a bad thing.” Rafael added.

“But it is not who you are.” Faelan finished.

Eustace shook his head. “Who I was, was irresponsible and foolish.”

“Well…” I faltered.

“Yeah,” Jet interjected and I shot him a glare, “what? He was. Even I could look after myself better than old Eustace…but that doesn’t mean his current state is any better.”

“You don’t smile anymore.”

“You don’t play anymore.”

“You don’t leave the lounge room.”

“You don’t revert to being a dragon.”

“And you’re looking really dry.” I finished. “So we wanted to tell you that the day after tomorrow, you’re going to have the whole day off to go play in the oceans of your world.”

Eustace looked at me then around at all of us, shaking his head.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly…” He stood up then suddenly fell back into his chair badly. He looked at Bastian who had barely moved in his seat, having stuck out his long leg and tripped Eustace up. “What gives?”

“Sit down and hear the young lady out.” The werewolf ordered.

“We,” I jumped in before we could become distracted, “won’t take no for an answer.” I hoped I sounded firm but kind. “We’ll check to make sure the world is safe for you to go back to but…you are going to go, change to your dragon form and spend a few hours playing and swimming.”

“And to ease your mind while you have some much needed reprieve,” Rob explained, “we will take turns in sitting in the lounge room and watching the egg for you.”

Eustace stared at us, stunned. “But…it’s my responsibility. I have to look after it.”

“And what happens when it hatches and sees you all shrivelled and aged?” Rafael demanded. “What are you going to teach this new dragon except that growing up is the last thing it ought to do?”

“You don’t have to lose your sense of fun to be an adult.” I nodded.

“You balance your weight of responsibility with the fulfillment of pleasure.” Bastian added.

“Do not become less of who you are…become more.” Faelan finished.

Eustace held himself rigid, almost holding his breath…before he sagged, his shoulders bowing.

“I…I’ll go.”

While the others applauded our efforts I suddenly felt awful, wondering if we’d bullied him unnecessarily.

“Are you sure?”

“What are you doing?” Rafael barked at me. I shrugged helplessly.

“No…you’re right. I need to go.” Eustace nodded. “I…it’s just hard…to leave the egg…”

“We’ll all take shifts to look after it.” Bastian promised. “You look after yourself for a day and we’ll babysit the egg.”

Eustace frowned. “You’re not actually going to sit on it…are you?”

On the day ‘House of Figs’ was closed, Eustace headed to the Observatory after handing over responsibility of the egg into my hands. As such I couldn’t go with him to see what his world was like. I watched from the window as Rob opened the door, ‘The Omnibus of Dragons’ in his hand. Eustace shot me a nervous look. I waved and nodded at him. He seemed to draw strength from our wordless exchange and followed Rob into the Observatory. I held my breath, wondering what would happen, if the world was safe enough for Eustace to return to and even if he could regain his dragon form.

A minute after they disappeared inside, Rob came out and looked up at the window. He gave me a thumbs up which looked really out of character for him before coming up stairs and giving me verbal reassurance.

“The island the door is on is still intact and thankfully in the correct orientation. Eustace changed to his dragon form once on the other side and dove into the water.”

“What did the world look like?” I asked.

“I did not venture far into the world, only enough to make sure that if Eustace required assistance, that I would be on hand to provide it. However, it seemed peaceful from my brief exposure.” Rob looked at the egg. “Query, would you like me to continue to watch the egg?”

“I’ll sit with it for now but if one of the other guys hasn’t turned up by the time I head off to visit Aunt Jo, I’ll hand over to you.”

It was heart warming to see the guys rally around Eustace and his vulnerable egg. Jet came in the morning and I praised his haircut. It had transformed his look from scruffy and unkempt to downright handsome. The sides were very short and the barber had taken a lot from the top, giving a very definite parting so that it was reminiscent of a mohawk yet the remaining length was flopped over and smelt ever so slightly of product.

“It looks incredible.” I gasped. “Wow!”

“Yeah?” Jet was quite self conscious. “It’s weird…there’s plenty of hair left…except where there isn’t.”

“How did he do the sides so short without clippers?” I marvelled, reaching out to touch the short hair. “It’s so soft!”

“All scissors.” Jet nodded. “I told him what you told me to say. Don’t want something that requires too much thought.”

“I can smell product.” I cringed.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Jet reassured me. “It’s one of those, rub it in, in the shower so I can clean my hands and then when I get out, dry and comb into this. Simple.”

“That’s fantastic!” I leaned back on the lounge. “I’m so relieved!”

“So is Pops. About time you started taking care of your appearance.” Jet shook his head after mimicking his grandfather. “He seems to think that, if I smarten up, I’ll suddenly become Casanova.”

“He’s just looking out for you. You’re his grandson, after all.”

“Not really.”

“Huh?”

Jet shrugged. “I figured it would spoil the moment saying so the other day…but things weren’t as rosy he made them out to be between him and my mum.”

“Oh?”

“Debbie, my Nan, had been married, then divorced when Gary came along, a man very much down on his luck, bankrupt and homeless. My mum didn’t like Gary. She said he was too old for my Nan and accused him of gold digging, taking advantage of her and her house and money.” Jet snorted. “My mum probably didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t sponge off my Nan anymore although she didn’t seem to mind dumping me on them every chance she got.”

“Sounds a big rough,” I admitted, “it doesn’t sound like Gary did anything wrong by falling in love with your Nan.”

“They did seem happy whenever I went to stay there…which was a lot.” Jet pulled a face. “I didn’t do so well in school. I was bullied and it didn’t help when I changed schools either. My mum had a tendency to move…a lot. I think ‘problem child’ was stamped in big red letters on my file by the time I was eight.”

“You can be a little pedantic,” I admitted, “but that’s hardly rabble rousing. Oh, that’s why you’re back here with Gary now. A safe place to be.”

“After boyfriend number, whatever, made a stink about me still living at home.”

“I’m glad you have your grandpa then.”

“Yeah, he’s alright…even if he does smell of mothballs. You going out?”

Over the course of the day, each of the guys came to ‘House of Figs’ and took turns watching the egg. Rafael made himself a coffee and sat with his feet up, the egg in the corner of his vision as he read a book. Faelan sat with his eyes closed, one hand on the surface of the egg, as though gently communing with it. Bastian read it recipes from a cookbook on a shelf. Rob stood calmly and quietly, no doubt running computations through his head as he acted as a sentinel and Jet played his games, sitting cross legged on the floor.

All of them played their part.

When it began to get dark, I started to worry. “You think Eustace is alright?” I asked Rob.

“It is more likely that he became unaware of the time than anything befalling him.” Rob said without alleviating my concerns. “I shall open the door to his world and maintain a vigil in case he requires help.”

“And to close it if anything other than Eustace attempts to come through.”

“Indeed. Query, will you be alright here, Bethany St James?”

“Oh yes, I’m fine.”

Once Rob was gone I sat up with my legs stretching out across the lounge, the egg sitting in its bassinet beside me on the floor. I was in my pjs and dressing down and bed socks and draped one of Aunt Jo’s holey crocheted blankets across my legs.

“Right,” I picked up the book ‘Synthetic Love’, “let’s see what this is all about.”

I hadn’t read anything other than text messages or angry social media posts for years. Settling in to learn about a new place, new names and new settings took its toll on my undisciplined mind. It didn’t take long for the yawning to start and then, inevitably, I snuggled down lower on the couch.

“It’s funny reading what people in the seventies thought the future would look like.” I remarked to the egg, trying to hold back another yawn which was like trying to tell Jet to put six things on his plate or to eat spaghetti with everything piled on top and not separated.

My eyes began to close. I fought it but not for long and the book dropped to my chest as sleep washed over me like a warm tide…

“Bethany…”

The silhouette of a man entered my dreams, light glowing behind him so that everything about him was darkened and yet, I felt no fear of him. He leaned down and, with strong arms, scooped me into his embrace. I smelt salt and wind and could hear the sound of surf breaking as though someone was holding a shell up to my ear. My body grew warm and my heart thrummed with a giddy pulse.

For a moment I thought lips brushed against mine…

…and then I woke up with a start and sat up in bed.

“What on earth was that?!” I gasped and looked around. “Hang on…wasn’t I in the lounge room?”

I’d been deposited during the night, into my own bed. I was still wearing my dressing gown and the combined weight of it and the crocheted blanket had kept me warm.

I pressed my hand to my heart, feeling it race. “A little too warm.” I shook my head.

Light was filtering through the window, broken from its sharp gaze by the leaves of the fig tree, letting me know that a new day had come. I glanced at my phone and saw I was about three minutes from being reminded that it was time to wake up. I flung the crocheted blanket aside to swing my legs over the side of the bed when I heard a clunk on the ground. Lying, sprawled face down, was ‘Synthetic Love’.

“I guess that came with me when I was moved?” I mused, picking it up. As I went to close it, my eye caught sight of the inside of the back page, not the back cover but on the paper. “Woah…”

I sat up in bed and bent the back cover so I could gaze at the illustration. It took up the entirety of the back page, an open door looking onto a man at a desk that was set in the alcove created by a set of stairs curving upwards from his lefthand side. The man’s back was to the viewer, writing with quill and ink, a candle illuminating his work from the far right, casting most of him in shadow. The image was drawn in a sketched manner with no colour and it was easy to miss the details…however, I realised that the frame of the illustration was an actual door frame…made from books.

“It’s…a drawing of the Observatory with the door unlocked.” My spine was threatening to retreat. I closed the book carefully and put it down, half frightened of the inanimate object. “That…that can’t be a coincidence…surely…”

When I left my room, heading for the bathroom, Rob greeted me from the door of the lounge room, putting his finger to his lips. He held out the copy of ‘The Omnibus of Dragons’ and I took it.

“Is he back?” I whispered softly.

“Eustace returned last night. He is asleep now.”

“I hope that means he played the whole time he was there.” I breathed. “How is he?”

“He seemed much improved from his dehydrated state.” Rob tilted his head. “Query, how did you sleep?”

“Oh,” I blinked, remembering that I’d been in the lounge room, “fine…did you move me?”

“Eustace carried you to your room and put the put in there with you.”

The warm dream returned. I made my excuses about not wanting to be late for work and dove into the bathroom, locking the door.

“Working in close proximity to five handsome young men is overcharging my stupid libido.” I muttered then slapped my forehead. “Rob, if you heard that…delete it.”

Upon returning to the bedroom, somewhat restored by my shower to a place of logical thinking, I dressed then sat on my neatly made bed and opened ‘Synthetic Love’ again. Despite the crawling sensation of my spine, I took a picture of it and sent it to Jet.

“Look familiar?” I texted. About thirty seconds later he replied.

“Five Suns…I’ll look it up.”

“Five what now?”

Jet sent the picture back to me but used the doodle function to draw an arrow on it. To my astonishment, what I thought had been texture in the sketchiness of the drawing around the outside of the illustration, were the words, ‘Five Suns Pty Ltd’.

“I can’t believe you saw that.” I wrote back.

“I can’t believe you missed it.” I rolled my eyes then glanced at his next message. “It’s a publishing company logo.”

“That just happens to look like the Observatory?”

“Do you have the dragon book there?”

I picked it up and heaved it open, removing the dustcover as it just kept slipping off. “Yep.”

“What’s the publishing company for it?”

“Um…” I looked inside the front cover. “‘Legendary’. Not the same…”

“Legendary is a publishing company that swallowed ‘Five Suns’.”

“So…they’re published by the same company. What about the other books?”

There was a long pause.

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“What?”

“Legendary also swallowed up ‘Aztec Publishing’ which was responsible for the publication of the vampire book. Legendary has the rights to all the books.”

“That’s…how is that possible?” I frowned. “Does that mean someone in the company has been carried over who is doing all this?”

“Maybe. It might have something more to do with the authors. I’ll look into it.”

“Thanks for doing that.” I wrote back

then glanced at the time, “I gotta go.”

“Hey, did Eustace make it back?”

“Yeah, he did. He’s asleep.”

“I’ll come by later. He owes me a rematch.”

It was a good day at ‘House of Figs’. Everyone was relieved that Eustace’s day off had gone so well and the mood was joyful and pleasant. Jess came by with her two children and now that I knew the motivation, I was quick to welcome her in and made sure she had a place to sit and that the kids could play. She said she was reading her way through the next book in the series, ‘The Farseekers’ and was really enjoying it. Bastian and Faelan supplied food for her and the kids and Rafael put a coffee in front of her.

“I feel so bad…” She said softly.

“Why?” I asked as I cleaned up a spilt drink.

“Because…I can’t help…or pay…” She tucked her arms around herself. “I feel…shabby in a place as nice as this.”

It was hard not to notice that her clothes definitely came from the lower end of the spectrum. They had an element of being cheaply made and not good quality. And I hated that I noticed such a thing. It came from my upbringing and how I was never to wear anything less than brand name labels or the best quality uniforms for the private school I went to. Even the clothes I wore at work, though plain, were excellent quality. And it wasn’t just the clothing. ‘House of Figs’ had high standards, not of the people who came but of the service it provided. However, it was easy to see that its reputation could be mistaken, especially if someone was already insecure about their appearance. Jess’ children were often snotty nosed and scruffy haired and I knew some customers didn’t appreciate the ‘kid factor’ while going out for coffee.

And yet, I didn’t give a damn what they thought.

I sat down in the chair opposite her. “My aunt would say that the greatest book ever written might appear worthless to the casual eye, but to one who knows how precious the story is inside, recognises that it is so true that you should never, ever judge a book by its cover. She has many second hand books on her shelves because she knows, regardless of appearance, the wonder of the treasure within.”

Jess smiled weakly. “You sounded just like your aunt then.”

I laughed softly. “I could do worse. Much worse.”

She looked around, clutching her coffee. “I just…when I come here…there’s something about the smell of the books, the good food…the atmosphere…I would say it feels like home…except my home never felt like this.” She glanced over at the counter where my guys were in full swing. “It certainly never had the handsome array you have to choose from.”

“The guys?” I coughed. “Me…choose one of them?”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Surely you’re not going to tell me that one of them hasn’t caught your eye?”

“To be honest, I keep my eye on all of them so that they don’t burn the house down.” I admitted and stood up. “I should get back to work.”

I turned around and caught Bastian’s grin, Faelan’s raised eyebrows and Rafael’s smirk. I knew Jess’ remark had not gone unheard.

“Shut up.” I breathed and they all chuckled and went back to work.

Goodness knows when and if I would live that one down.