“To learn to read is to light a fire;

every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.”

- Victor Hugo

My twenty first birthday was celebrated beneath the overhang of the fig tree in the grounds of ‘House of Figs’. I was with my six new friends who had overwhelmed me, spoiling me with reckless abandon and not a drop of obligation.

Never mind that they were fictional, fantasy characters.

Never mind that among them was a dragon, a robot, a werewolf, an elf and a vampire.

To me, it was normal. A bizarre kind of normal but a joyous moment that I did not expect and thought I would not experience.

And I wanted to capture it somehow, holding onto the moment for as long as I could and, should I ever have the gall to forget, a photo taken on my new phone to remind me.

Turning on my new phone meant I got to see all the messages I’d missed since breaking my phone. I had a few birthday messages and I spied one from my dad but I pressed on the camera button instead. It took some juggling and several lopsided and blurry attempts before we were all in frame, smiling as best as most of us could with me in the middle.

“There,” I gazed at the screen, “captured for all eternity.”

“You’re going to get rid of the fails, right?” Rafael asked.

“Heck no. They’re hilarious!” I laughed.

“Well, we’ve done the presents, the food, the ‘cake’,” Bastian eyed the empty fondue with wistful longing, “is there anything you’d like, princess, that we’ve missed?”

I thought about this for a moment, a curiosity started in my heart when we first talked about how old I was. “Actually, I have a request,” I said slowly, “I’d really like to know how old you all are.”

Rafael blinked. “Really? Why?”

“Cause you all know how old I am.” I explained. “I thought it would be fun to know how old you all are as well.”

Jet shrugged. “I’m twenty three.” He said easily.

“There, see, Jet isn’t afraid to tell me how old he is.”

“You know my age,” Rob pointed out, “I am thirty eight.”

“And don’t look a day past your production date.” I smiled.

“I’m twenty seven.” Bastian beamed.

“I am two hundred and twelve years old.” Faelan announced.

“Okay, that’s a jump.” I looked at Rafael and sensed his reluctance. “If you don’t want to…”

“It depends what you want to know,” Rafael sighed, “I was twenty two when I became a vampire so I’m stuck at that age in how I appear…but I’ve been around for over five hundred years.”

“Oh…” I breathed. “Wow…”

“Yeah…” He shrugged and looked at Eustace. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any clue, do you?”

“Well,” Eustace cringed, “I do know how many eggs I found for my mother…”

“Eustace…”

“And they took a while to appear and then for me to find them…” I felt terrible that my light hearted question was triggering such bad memories for him. I recalled the room full of dragon bones. There had been hundreds, maybe even thousands. “It’s possible I’m the oldest here…by a pretty large margin.”

We all considered this.

“Logically, if you were one of the eggs that survived the war between dragons and humans, it is conceivable you are as old as the span of time between then and now.” Rob concluded.

“And the dragon that professed herself to be your mother said it was thousands of years old…”

Eustace shrugged. “Seeing as she saw fit to lie to me from the moment I met her, I don’t know that I can trust anything she said.” He glanced at the egg in its bassinet. “I am glad I am alive, now, to protect this dragon who will usher in fatherhood to my world.” He patted the egg gently…

…and in the moment of silence afterward…we heard it crack.

All eyes locked onto the egg, Eustace’s eyes widening.

“Did you hear…”

“Hush.” Eustace barked, waving his hand at who had spoken. He edged closer but was halted by another crack.

We watched, still as statues as the egg in the bassinet shifted, another crack echoing and then another and another…and then two cracks made a larger piece and a pointed snout pushed up at it, lifting it, stretching the membranes, stringing them out until they were as thin as a spider’s web. A claw poked out, grasping the jagged edge and then…the snout slumped back in and the emergence halted.

Eustace reached out to pry open the breaking egg.

“Do not touch it!” Rob ordered. “Forgive my harsh tone,” he added when Eustace looked at him, hurt, “but upon having an egg in our care, I have completed extensive research on creatures hatching from eggs. It is often to their benefit to break through themselves and interference from outside forces can be detrimental.”

Eustace turned back at the egg. “But…” He whimpered. “It is struggling…”

“Talk to it.” I urged. “Encourage it.”

Eustace swallow. “Come on, little one…you can do it. You can break through.” At his words, the little dragon seemed revitalised and made another attempt to break through. “You’ve survived my foolishness and a controlling dragon’s schemes, you’ve survived a crack in your egg…you can do this. Come on…come on out…please…”

A large chunk of the egg broke away and a little black head poked out.

“The father of dragons…”

“Come on little one.” Eustace knelt in front of the egg, holding out his arms. “You can do this. You can. You’re a dragon…and I have so much to show you.”

The baby dragon let out a little yowl and wriggled, the spines on its back and the way it moved causing another larger chunk to fall away. The little dragon tumbled and Eustace, unable to be restrained, caught it and set it on its feet in the curve of the egg. It was not much bigger than a chihuahua although with its tail, it was a great deal longer. It was as black as night and its yellow eyes, rimmed with red, blinked several times, focussing on Eustace.

“Hi…” He gasped and I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling a sob of joy. “Welcome to the world, little dragon…” The baby dragon tilted its head on the side and studied Eustace a moment. Eustace looked down at himself. “Oh…I know I don’t look like it, but I am a dragon.” He held out his arm. “Can you smell it? Smell the open sky, the rushing waters…the call of the other dragons?”

The baby dragon sniffed at him and, disentangling itself fully from the membrane of the egg, clutched hold of Eustace’s arm, its claws pinching at his skin. Eustace winced.

“Are you alright?” I whispered.

“Oh yes, it does not hurt that much.” He chuckled. “What could one as little as you do to me?”

The baby dragon gave a few cooing noises, opened its jaw wide…and sank its fangs into Eustace’s arm.

Eustace froze for a moment before gasping and leaping to his feet, the baby dragon dangling from his forearm. Bastian lunged forward and grasped the dragon, dragging its fangs out of Eustace’s skin.

“Hey, no biting!” Bastian barked. The baby dragon didn’t attack him. It licked its fangs and blinked.

“Eustace?” I stood up. “Eustace?”

His back was turned to us and he was shaking violently.

“Eustace, talk to us!”

“It burns…” Rafael grabbed him, yanking him round to face us. Eustace was as pale as death, his eyes such a bright blue they were frightening and he grasped at his arm, blood trickling out of the bite wound.

“First aid kit!” I blurted uselessly.

Eustace let out a whimper, falling to his knees, his whole body trembling. “I can’t…I can’t stop it!”

“Stop what?” I knelt then gasped. His arm was becoming covered in scales and the smell of water filled the air.

“He’s changing back into a dragon.”

Eustace cried out, falling onto his side.

“We can’t just stand around and watch!”

“Back…back…” I leaned close to him.

“What? What can we do?”

“Back…world…”

“We have to get him back to his world.” Rob grasped his shoulders. “Rafael, help me!”

Eustace seemed to lose control of his body, convulsing and lurching, claws appearing at the end of his hands, the scales and fur I’d seen on his dragon form beginning to cover his body.

“Clear the way!”

Bastian held the baby dragon firmly in his hands while Faelan and Jet ran in front, pulling tables and chairs out of the way. By the time we reached the back of ‘House of Figs’, Rob and Rafael were practically dragging Eustace as his back legs changed.

“If we don’t hurry, he won’t fit through the damn door!” Rafael grunted.

One of Eustace’s claws lashed out and he splintered a lattice, vines falling and pots breaking.

“Hurry!”

“Get the door open!” Rob ordered.

I ran ahead and did as I was told. Thankfully the floating island was the right way up. and it was daylight on the other side. I turned back to see Eustace’s fangs lengthening, his face changing shape and his hair growing long.

“Watch out, Bethany!” I dashed to the side as Rob and Rafael forced Eustace through the doorway then I, ignoring the others calling for me to stop, ran after them.

Eustace was fighting their hands, pushing them away.

“Get off me!” He cried.

“Eustace, calm down!”

“Let,” he swiped at them, his claws only just missing gashing them open, “me go!”

“Do as he says!” Faelan cried. “He must be allowed to change!”

Eustace staggered further and further back, his body writhing, his clothes shredding.

“Eustace!” I screamed as he teetered towards the edge. I ran towards him even as he fell. “No!”

Someone caught me at the edge of the island, dragging me back.

“I have to help him!”

“Let him fall into the water. He must change!”

We all stared at Eustace’s body becoming smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the waves.

“No…” I whispered.

We held fast, unable to grasp what we had witnessed. The pause went on so long, every ripple of his entry faded out to nothing. I wrung my hands and trembled.

Then, with an eruption of water like the largest geyser I had ever seen, Eustace tore into the sky.

He was big, much bigger than before. He hadn’t lost any of his shape or fluidity but I was sure he’d at least doubled in size. He writhed in the air as if shaking off the effects of whatever had been done to him.

“Wow,” Jet breathed, “is that really Eustace?”

“Yep.” I shuddered. “Oh thank goodness…he seems okay.”

At my words, the water dragon’s head snapped around towards us and he rippled through the air, coming closer and closer, hovering before the floating island…growling.

“Uh…Eustace?”

His eyes were reptilian and not focused on any of us…but on the baby dragon.

We turned and looked at it, all of us gasping.

“Query, when did it change colour?”

The baby dragon that had hatched black had turned white, its eyes bright blue and innocent.

“We were all so focussed on Eustace, we never saw it change.”

“Yeah but…why did it change?” Rafael breathed.

Eustace huffed and we got a light burst of water in the face, his eyes sharpening and his growl, intensifying.

“Uh…hey buddy…” Bastian said hesitantly. “Remember us?”

Eustace’s lips curled up, exposing fangs that even the werewolf ought to be afraid of.

“It’s as if he doesn’t recognise us.”

“Bastian,” Faelan whispered, “I would let the baby dragon out of your grip if I were you.”

“Oh…right.” Bastian cleared his throat and squatted down to release the baby dragon onto the island. “Sorry…”

The baby scuttled towards the edge of the island, perching on its haunches and looking up into Eustace’s dragon face. It chirped and hissed and Eustace responded in kind, no longer growling at us.

“Have you noticed,” Rafael breathed, “that the baby now resembles Eustace?”

“Could this world have lucked in…and produced another water dragon?” Jet wondered as we watched the wordless exchange between the enormous dragon and the little one on the edge of the island.

“No…it wasn’t a water dragon. It became one.” My spine quivered and I slipped sideways in shock. Someone grabbed me and held me up. “Don’t you see?” I exclaimed. “The baby didn’t possess an element…it took on Eustace’s. It became a water dragon.”

The baby dragon clambered onto Eustace’s snout and the large water dragon coiled into the air and dove for the water. We watched as he carved through the surface of the ocean, leaping and diving far below us before corkscrewing into the air and flinging the baby up. We all let out shrieks of terror as the baby began to fall and then, at a bellow from Eustace, it started to ripple its body…and its descent slowed and slowed…until it was slithering through the air like a snake through water.

“When a baby is born, so too is a parent.”

I looked at Rob. “What did you say?”

“It was on a card Jo bought for Jess when she gave birth to her daughter. It came to me as I was watching Eustace and the baby play.”

Jet coughed. “Eustace…is a father?”

“No,” I breathed, “Eustace IS the father. Oh…that’s what the mother dragon was afraid of!”

“I don’t follow.” Bastian admitted.

“Oh…I do.” Faelan closed his eyes.

“Then can you explain it to the rest of us?” Rafael asked with a bite in his tone. I looked at Faelan who nodded at me to convey the revelation.

“The dragon that professed itself to be the mother of all was afraid of a father being born.”

“That’s why she was hunting down the eggs,” Bastian said in a confused tone, “because she didn’t want the father to hatch. We know that.”

“No,” I pointed at Eustace and the baby dragon playing, “she was frightened of a father being born…when it had a baby. That dragon had kept all the dragons of this world young, toddler-like, so that they could never develop into adults…it allowed her to keep control over them because they would never ask questions why or have an opinion other than hers. They can’t even breathe fire! And she knew that the one thing that would push a young dragon into maturity…was being responsible for a baby.” I shook my head. “Eustace is the father…”

“The father…of all dragons?”

“He could well be.” Rob nodded.

“Huh…”

We stood, watching the water dragons play when the other dragons showed up. A flock of wind dragons began to circle the baby dragon and I immediately tensed. Then fire dragons with their wings, resplendent with flames surged closer and finally earth dragons, like mini mountains themselves, lifted themselves into the air, all of them calling, curious about the newest edition to their world.

“Oh no…”

“What’s wrong?”

“They want to play with it.”

“Play is good, right?”

“Would you really trust a toddler with a delicate animal?”

“I wouldn’t be too concerned.” Bastian pointed. “Look.”

The wind dragons flocked towards the baby, snapping at it, eager to play when Eustace roared and scattered them with his tail. Unfortunately the wind dragons took this as a sign to play rough and they launched themselves at Eustace. He roared, his body trembling.

“What’s happening?”

Faelan’s elf eyes widened. “Smoke…there is smoke at the corner of Eustace’s mouth.”

“Smoke?” I gasped. “But that means…”

A plume of blue fire erupted from his mouth, scorching the air, scattering the dragons that wouldn’t take no for an answer. The heat was intense and able to be felt from our island box seat. Eustace roared loud and long, the fire starting at a deep indigo and curling out to ice blue. When he was done the baby dragon peeked out from behind his head and gave his own little roar. Smoke still curled at the corners of Eustace’s mouth and his sapphire eyes glittered with protective intent.

The flock of wind dragons, the earth dragons and the fire dragons hovered before Eustace then bowed their heads.

“Submission to the alpha,” Bastian recognised, “Eustace is now lord of the dragons and father of his own child.”

“Wow…”

We watched Eustace and the baby play for a few minutes. I could have stayed forever but felt hands on my shoulders. I looked at Bastian who was trying to escort me towards the door.

“Wait…”

“Bethany, we need to go.”

“Yeah, but…” I looked over my shoulder at Eustace.

“You said yourself, these islands have a tendency to up end themselves.” Jet said from the doorway. “I mean, I hate to go…but if we fall…”

“Eustace will catch us.”

“I…” Rafael swallowed, his eyes flicking towards the water dragon. “Eustace…has other priorities now. It is possible he will not remember us.”

“No, you’re wrong.” I pulled out of Bastian’s hands. “He’s our friend.”

“And we will leave the door unlocked for his return,” Faelan reassured me, “however, we must leave.”

Tears trickled out of my eyes. I hated that they were right. I hated that I was crying again. I allowed myself to be drawn through the door, the frame a window onto a scene where a father played with his child. My heart ached with joy for him but my shoulders were heavy with loss.

“We need to shut the door in case those wind dragons discover it.” Rob stepped forward.

“I’ll do it.” I looked at him. “Please.”

He nodded and allowed me to close the door slowly, willing Eustace to look back at us and acknowledge that we existed. But he was gone and I had to close the door.

A few days later I was coming back from visiting Aunt Jo and caught the freight truck out the front. From the smell of the box and the unfamiliar logo which was art unto itself, I guessed Rafael had put in a coffee order. He seemed to have an insatiable need to try every kind of coffee in the world. I signed for the box as the deliverer knew who I was and carried it through the gate then up the side path, dodging the customers leaving with their coffees and muffins.

“Heya.” Bastian greeted, having retrieved meat from the cool room.

“Heya?” I tucked the box away. “Really?”

“Bastian has been practicing his colloquialisms.” Faelan piped ‘Happy Thirtieth Birthday’ onto the top of an extremely oversized cupcake that he had decorated to look like a teapot.

“That’s gorgeous.” I shook my head. “Is a birthday party booked?”

“Just an afternoon tea get together.” Faelan nodded his head towards a table where a bunch of women were laughing, plates scraped clean of their lunch in front of them. Several of them wore silly hats and there was an air of celebration about them.

“I should clear those plates.” I murmured, taking up my apron and tying it on as I slipped around the counter to the other side.

“How was Jo?”

I shrugged. “No change.” I went to the front of the café and leaned over the counter to Rafael whose hair was more black than red. “You got a delivery of coffee. It’s underneath the counter over there.”

“Couldn’t have brought it five feet further?” He snapped and then cringed. “Sorry…Bethany.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” I brushed off his behaviour, grabbed a tray and quickly cleared the birthday table. When Faelan took the giant cupcake over, they all burst into the birthday song. I held onto the tray like a shield, feeling my eyes sting. “I will not cry. I won’t.” I whispered.

Closing time rolled around, the birthday party some of the last customers to leave. In the end Bastian leaned over to me.

“Hey, we’ll look after them and Rob’s already worked out their tally.”

“Where is he?”

“Upstairs in the office. He wanted a word.”

I nodded and headed upstairs. Aunt Jo’s office was one of those places I had rarely been into. With Rob handling all the bookwork, there was no need for me to involved myself in that side of things and with a fully functioning, beautiful new phone, I didn’t need a computer. It was pretty basic really, as far as a business office went. There was a computer with a nice big screen, keyboard and mouse, a printer/scanner for things that needed to be printed or scanned, a shredder, a filing cabinet and several pinboards all with different subjects like menu or bookings…but my favourite which was photos of events held at ‘House of Figs’.

“Rob?” I knocked on the open door. “Bastian said you wanted to see me?”

“I do.” Rob looked up from the printer/scanner. “Query, how is Jo?”

“No change.” I felt a slight bite to my words and swallowed it down. Having everyone ask me every day was starting to wear thin on my conscience. I felt like there was a responsibility or anticipation that I would somehow heal her. “I’m meant to speak to her doctor but we don’t seem to be crossing paths much.” I cleared my throat. “So…”

“Query, may I pose another query before I address the reason for the request of your presence, Bethany St James?”

I sighed, tired and frazzled. “Yes.”

“Query…how are you?”

“Huh?” I blinked. “I’m fine.”

Rob tilted his head, staring at me. “Query, are you lying?”

I gaped at him. “No!” Guilt washed over me. “Uh…yes…” I cringed. “Maybe.” I folded my arms. “Apart from my inability to know myself…why do you query?”

“Because you have not been yourself,” Rob observed, “and from my discussions with Bastian, Faelan and Rafael, it is since your twenty first birthday.”

“You talked to them about me?” I was dismayed.

“Yes.” Rob blinked. “Query, did I err? I am concerned that you seem inordinately sad.”

“I’m not depressed.” I blurted.

“I did not say depressed.”

“I know!” I snapped then clapped my hands over my mouth. Rob just gazed at me, kindly and without taking offense. I closed my eyes and sank into the computer chair. “I know…” I whispered, wretched and miserable.

“Query, is it because of Eustace?”

“Yeah…a bit.” I sniffed. “Okay, a lot. He’s just…gone. It happened so suddenly and violently and we didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

“Query, are you not happy about his transition to being a father?”

“It’s not that.” I sighed, tucking my arms around myself and hating the tightness of my throat. “I just thought…what if you all go…”

“Query, go?”

“Leave. Like Eustace.” Tears began to fall in earnest. “I just…my birthday was so great and I had finally relaxed and felt safe, even at home with you all and here…then it was shattered with Eustace leaving and I’m…scared,” I looked up at Rob, “no, I’m terrified…that you’ll all leave. I’m so scared of being on my own.” I pressed my palms against my eyes and sobbed. “What if Faelan leaves to live in Elvan with his mother? What if Bastian is killed in his world? What if one day Rafael never showed up? We know so little about him and one day he might just disappear…”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I felt Rob’s presence shift downwards so that he was squatting in front of me and several tissues were pressed against my hands.

“With the best will in the world, I cannot say what the future holds. I do not know if any or all of what you have predicted will come to pass.” He said quietly. “However, I will always be here, Bethany St James, that I can promise you.”

I blubbered into my tissues for a moment before Rob’s arms circled me and I cried on his shoulder.

“You have been bearing much of the burden alone but you do not have to. We are here now.”

It took me a while to get myself under control. More tissues were applied to my eyes and nose until, finally, I could look at Rob and shake my head.

“Hell of an upgrade…you really are much more intuitive than you were.”

“While the prospect of losing myself was an alarming one, I do appreciate a number of the upgrade features.” Rob nodded.

I was sure I was puffy eyed and bleak but I managed a smile. “So…what did you ask me here for?”

“I may have made a discovery.” Rob straightened and put his hand on the photo album Jet had shown me on my birthday. “I have been scanning the photos of your birthday party in after Gary kindly said we could keep it to do so. I went through the entire album in case there were other photos filed outside of the birthday party cluster.”

“Were there?”

“Not of your birthday.” Rob gestured to the screen where a copy of the photo rested, luminous with brightly lit pixels. “I have been attempting to restore the photos so that they accurately represent the true colour of the world.”

I shuffled forward on the chair and peered at the screen. The photo was of Jet standing beside Gary who was kneeling so that he didn’t tower over the tiny eight year old. It could have been taken anywhere except for a familiar building caught in the background with a dragon face set into its stony façade.

“That’s Jet and Gary in front of the Observatory.” I looked up. “What’s so special about that?”

“It is not what is in the photo that caught my attention.” Rob explained. “Debbie, Gary’s deceased spouse, was meticulous about labelling all her photos.” He picked the original up from the pile of photos to be put back into the album and held it out to me after flipping it over.

I took it and read the words written in a black, permanent marker.

“‘Gary, Jet and the Folly’.” I frowned and looked up. “What’s the ‘Folly’? What does it mean?”

“Folly means a foolish endeavour, reckless or irrational behaviour to the extreme of madness.”

“Well, yeah I mean…” I paused. “Wait…I’ve heard ‘Folly’ somewhere recently. Where…where was it?”

“It was present in the first line of the haiku you retrieved from Ilanard.” Rob explained.

“It was!” I gasped. “Oh…how did it go again?”

“The folly of man. The pride…the fall…then nothing. Bones groan in despair.” Rob quoted perfectly. “Not only was the word on the back of the photograph, a word not often heard in this modern age, also part of the haiku, but it seemed to be referencing the Observatory itself.”

“What do you mean?”

Rob pointed to the words. “‘Gary, Jet and the Folly’.” He blinked. “Query, who is the Folly?”

“You mean,” my skin prickled, “the Observatory might have been known as something else once?”

“It is possible. It may be why we cannot discover any records previous of the Observatory.”

“Cause we’re looking for the wrong name!” I gasped. “Rob, you’re a genius!”

“It does not solve anything.”

“But it’s something.” I sank back into the chair and sighed. “It’s something more than what we’ve had.”

“Query, will you share this information with Jet?” I nodded. “Query, would you return the album to him as you do so?”

“I will,” I glanced at the time, “but not tonight. I’m tired, my eyes are gritty and puffy and I need something to eat.”

“I will reassemble the album and join you shortly.”

I wandered downstairs and found the guys cleaning up, the front door locked and the customers gone. They all looked up at my entrance.

“Hey,” Bastian greeted, “so…Rob said he was going to talk to you…”

“He did.” I reassured him. “I’m…I’m not okay…but I will be.”

“If you need us,” Faelan said gently, “you only have to ask.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I sighed. “I feel like a melodrama.”

“Leave the drama to the vampire.” Bastian rolled his eyes.

“I said I was sorry.” Rafael grumbled.

“You did. Did you find your coffee?” I wandered over to where he was laying out the bags and picked up one of them. “Blue Mountain coffee?”

“From Jamacia, man.” Bastian drawled.

“Really?” I looked at Rafael who nodded. “What’s the price per bag?” He hesitated. “I’m not going to be cross. Aunt Jo gave you a budget within ‘House of Figs’ finances. You get to experiment.”

“It’s…pretty high end.” Rafael admitted. “Your average cup of coffee costs less than two dollars to make, including packaging for the takeaway cups.”

“It ought to be noted that ‘House of Figs’ doesn’t do average.” Bastian interjected.

“We’re known for our fantastic coffee so who am I to object?” I laughed.

“Well…Blue Mountain coffee…I’d be remiss to charge anything less than twenty dollars.”

“Woah…” I blurted. “That’s…a pricey cup of coffee. Is it really that good?”

Rafael looked at me. “Really that good?”

“I know, I know…” I sighed. “Look, I wish I liked coffee. It smells amazing but the flavour is always a let down.”

Rafael folded his arms and his eyes sharpened. “Tell me, has your poor experience been due to drinking substandard, mass produced, coffee by inexperienced baristas?”

“Um…I’m gonna say, yes?” I cringed.

“Unbelievable.” Rafael grabbed the bag and stormed behind the counter.

“Come on Rafael, Bethany is allowed to not like coffee.” Bastian insisted.

“You have yet to serve me a cup that I would prefer over my own homemade lemonade.” Faelan added.

“Are you both going to shut up long enough for me to brew this?” Rafael demanded.

“You’re making it now?”

“Of course,” he leaned over the counter, “it is about time someone knew what coffee is supposed to taste like.”

“Oh…” I trembled. “What if I don’t like it? It’ll be such a waste!”

“I’ll drink it.” Bastian chuckled.

“Now that would be a waste.” Rafael snarked.

“Hey!”

“Just,” I went on tiptoe and looked over the counter as he opened the bag and began to measure the beans, “make it a small one.”

Rafael looked up, eyes as cold as ice.

“I will make it as I see fit.” He said darkly. “I do not ask that you enjoy it…simply that I am allowed to do what I do best.”

“Yes sir.” I nodded and backed away.

Rafael worked carefully for ten minutes before he looked up.

“Sit.” I plonked myself down in a chair. “All of you, sit.”

Bastian, Faelan and even Rob sat down at the table where I was. Rafael brought the tray of cups over and deliberately placed one in front of each of us.

“My art is in the shape of a bird.” Faelan remarked.

“I’ve got a mountain scene.” Bastian chuckled.

“I have an open book.” Rob observed.

“I have a swan.”

“If I had known you would all be preoccupied with the art, I would have skipped it.” Rafael rolled his eyes, a cup of coffee in his own hands.

I took a deep breath and picked up my cup. The aroma of the coffee was beautiful. It was soft and warm and now and again I thought I could smell slight floral hints, as though the coffee was infused with the scent of the flowers that grew nearby the planation. I braced myself and put my lips to the rim, drawing the swan into my mouth, smearing its design, feeling the touch of coffee, that was not scalding hot but not lukewarm and the flavour filled my mouth.

I let it rest on my tongue for a moment, a rich, gentle flavour filling my senses before I finally gave in and swallowed it, a slight aroma of nuttiness left behind in its wake.

It wasn’t bitter.

It wasn’t overly strong.

It wasn’t stomach churning.

“That was incredible.” I breathed. “I had no idea coffee was meant to taste like that.”

“Even I found this to be pleasant.” Faelan admitted.

“Oh yeah,” Bastian smacked his lips, “that…was to die for.”

“What did you think, Rob?”

“I believe your expressions provided more enjoyment for me than the flavour of the coffee.” Rob confessed. “My upgrade did not equip me with tastebuds.”

I smiled and turned to Rafael. “Well?”

His eyes were closed, the rim of the cup close to his lips and as we watched he swallowed, slowly, deliberately…then sighed.

“So close…” He whispered. “So close…”

“Rafael? So close to what?”

His eyes opened and for a split second, the sharp iciness of the iris hue was as dark as navy but he blinked it away and shook his head.

“Nothing. It is simply the best cup of coffee I have ever tasted.”

“I agree.” I nodded. “This was…amazing.” I took another sip and sighed. “What a shame it’s so expensive.”

“How much sugar did you put in?” Bastian queried.

“None. When brewed correctly, it does not require sugar.”

“I wouldn’t have thought it was missing any sweetness at all.” I drained my cup and when I thought no one was looking, I licked the rim. As I did so I felt Rafael’s eyes on me…and there was a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up.” I laughed. “I don’t suppose we could get a regular supply of that?”

“I have been on a waiting list for this for quite some time.” Rafael’s shoulders sagged. “I was fortunate to be able to purchase just one bag.”

“Uh…one bag? How much is left? In coffee cup measurements?”

“About three more cups.”

“Is that all?” I stood up. “While I appreciate the coffee, next time, keep it to yourself.”

Rafael eyed me thoughtfully. “And if you said that to Jo about not sharing a book she loved?”

I grimaced. “Yeah, okay…she’d tick me off for it. She loved a good story.”

“Just like I enjoy a good cup…and I enjoyed sharing it.”

“Well…” I faltered and had to really consider the sacrifice Rafael had made. “Thank you.”

He bowed. “You are welcome.”

I missed Dr Ishani again at the hospital the next day. I figured if it was urgent she would call. On the way home I called in to Gary’s house on the corner of the cul de sac.

“Knock, knock?” I rapped on the door. Jet opened it. My nose flinched. “Is something burning?”

“Bread’s stale.”

“Ah…okay…”

“Pops’ making toast for lunch.”

“With Faelan’s marmalade?” I asked, following him through to the kitchen.

“What else?” Gary chuckled, spreading a thick layer onto his piece of wholegrain bread. “Would you like some?”

“Bastian probably has lunch lined up for me.” I admitted then felt bad, seeing Gary sitting alone at the table with Jet looking like he was itching to get back to his room. “But…I could manage a piece of toast.” I accepted a slice and scooped some jam onto it. Gary bit into the toast. I looked at Jet. “You aren’t having any?”

“Only eats white bread.” Gary rolled his eyes. “We’re all out.”

“I don’t like the grainy bits.” Jet muttered.

“I guess that’s why they label it wholegrain.” I took the album from my bag and put it on the table. “Thank you so much for lending us this. We scanned all the photos.”

“Isn’t it funny,” Gary shook his head, “all those years ago, you two met. Who would have thought it, eh?”

“It’s not like either of us remembered…”

“That’s what photos are for.” Gary jabbed the album with his finger and looked at Jet pointedly. “When you get to my age, you’ve got to have something to jog your memory. Things are so easily lost…”

He looked sad and my heart ached. He was at the tail end of his life when he seemed to be losing more than he was gaining. Growing old might beat the alternative, but it could be a lonely prospect.

“Hey,” I opened the album, hoping to lighten the mood, “I have a question.” I pulled out the photo and slid it across the table to Gary. “Do you remember this?”

“Ha,” Gary huffed, “I forget more than I remember…but it’s not hard. That’s Jet, me and the ‘Folly’.”

“What’s the ‘Folly’?” Jet asked, sitting down, his game forgotten.

“Didn’t you know?” Gary looked at both of us. “Good grief, I thought I was the forgetful one. The Folly is what the Observatory was called before it was finished.”

“It must have been finished before Aunt Jo bought the property because I only ever heard it referred to as the Observatory.”

“Yes well, that was the idea of the couple who owned it before Jo.” Gary’s brow became even more furrowed as he thought hard. “Oh…what were their names…Etcher…Acter…”

“Eichler?”

“That’s them.” Gary nodded. “They bought it from the previous owner…Shoeman…Showman…”

“When was the Folly built?”

“Oh, before Eichler and Schoberman, that’s what he was called.” Gary shrugged. “I’ve been around so long I’ve seen lots of people come and try to make their mark…but only your aunt stuck. I think everyone hoped the property would pay for itself but it needed purpose. It wasn’t built to be pretty…the Folly was a damned eyesore.” He cleared his throat. “I apologise for the swearing. Debbie would have clipped me over the back of the head by now.”

“She was more the, kick you under the table, type.” Jet corrected.

“Oh yeah.” Gary chuckled. “Anyway, the Folly has been around for at least fifty years but it was the Eichlers who finished it.”

I leaned on the table, fascinated. “Why was it called the Folly if it was meant to be an observatory?”

Gary snorted and brushed some crumbs away. “It was never meant to be an observatory. It’s too narrow but an unfinished tower…”

“Tower?”

“That’s what it looked like.” Gary paused. “The second storey of ‘House of Figs’ wasn’t added until two decades ago, probably one of the Eichler’s grand schemes. Before that, you could see the Folly from the road. You can’t now cause the second storey gets in the way but it was a well known sight, an unfinished tower erected in the middle of a backyard.”

“Why would someone build an unfinished tower?”

“Probably ran out of money.” Jet commented. “Isn’t that why most things don’t get finished?”

“I guess. Any idea who the original owner or owners were?”

Gary shook his head. “I didn’t live here that long ago. It was Debbie who owned this house and when we married, I moved in. I’m old fashioned like that. That was about twenty years ago. The Folly was built, well, mostly and it stuck out like a sore thumb. The Eichlers had come along, putting the second storey on the main building, finishing off the walls of the Folly and capped it with that dome, christening it the Observatory…and promptly filed for bankruptcy.”

“It fell into the hands of the council after that and your aunt presented a plan to turn it into a café full of books and plants.” Jet finished.

I sighed. “It has even more history than I thought. Any idea what the Folly was meant to be?”

Gary chomped the remainder of his toast then put the lid on the marmalade. “Only the guy who built it would know…”

I leaned back in my chair. “Well…it’s more than what I knew before. I guess it was called ‘folly’ because it was a pretty dumb thing to build. It doesn’t have a purpose. It’s just a random tower.”

“It took your aunt to fully realise its potential.” Gary picked up the pile of plates and took them to the sink. “I’m going to be elderly and have a nap.”

“I’m going to get back to my job.” I stood up. “Thanks again for the album loan.”

“My pleasure.” Gary chuckled. “Debbie must have written, ‘Gary, Jet and the Folly’ on the back of that photograph…like that building has its own personality.”

“I’m glad she did. It gave us a clue.” I smiled at Jet. “Coming over tomorrow night?”

“That’s the plan.”

Gary began to warble ‘some enchanted evening’. I rolled my eyes and waved to Jet before I left. I pondered the origins of the Observatory, which I knew now had once been the Folly.

“A man’s folly…a foolish endeavour…it’s so strange that something which is the centrepoint to other world crossovers could have been built in ignorance of it being able to do so. Why? Why would he build it? Was it just Aunt Jo’s love of stories and literature that created bookshelves, so densely packed with stories of similar types, that caused it to manifest into open portals? Is that even possible?”

I grunted. “Uh…I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

I hurried up the steps, waited for someone to exit the café before ducking in, noticing how busy it was.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said without looking at any of the guys as I almost lunged for my apron in my haste to get back to work, “I dropped off the album to Gary and he told me some stuff about the Observatory but I’ll fill you in later…”

“Bethany,” Rob put his hand on my shoulder, “someone wishes to see you.”

“Huh?” A thrill ran through me as I suddenly imagined Eustace being back. “Where?”

“In the bay window seat.”

I dashed away, ducking around tables, heading for the bay window. The two chairs there were wingbacks so the occupant of one was mostly hidden from view but I already knew who it was.

“Eustace!” My exclamation stalled and I went from exuberant to horrified in a heartbeat. “Oh.”

“Bethany St James,” the young woman looked up from her phone, “it’s been too long.”

Judging by my sinking heart, it hadn’t been nearly long enough.

“Kendra…” She stood up and grasped my shoulders, kissing the air above my cheeks.

“How are you, Bethany?”

“Uh…I’m good, thanks.” I wondered if I looked as pale as I felt, sure all the blood in my body had pooled into my feet. “You look great.”

She did. There was no doubt about it. No matter what bitterness I harboured towards my perfect cousin, it could not poison the fact that she was gorgeous. Her skin was slightly olive and she was tanned. A beautiful scattering of freckles, each one perfectly positioned, was draped over her nose. Her eyelashes never needed mascara, they were dark and framed her dusky chocolate eyes perfectly. Her hair was a mane of dark tiny ringlets that fell to her shoulders and when she smiled, every single one of her teeth was white and perfectly straight. She wore tailored pants with beautiful heels poking out of the hems and her shirt was white, smart but not a straightjacket.

There wasn’t a wrinkle, stray thread or hair out of place.

“You look adorable! I love that apron!”

I cringed, just imagining what I looked like compared to Kendra. Though she was not yet twenty five, she managed to, somehow, seem much more mature than I.

“Well…I am working…”

“Oh they can spare you for a couple of minutes.” Kendra insisted and, like she was using mind control, I simply sat in the chair opposite her. “Now,” she put down her phone in a demonstration of attentiveness and leaned towards me, “how are you doing?”

“Uh…you already asked. I’m fine.”

“No, how are you doing, really?” Her eyes were peeling away the barriers between my mask of control and the fears behind.

I trembled. “I’m…okay.” I willed away the memories of me sobbing my eyes out in case Kendra could actually do what I feared and read my mind. I drew back a little, having been sucked in towards her like a gravity well.

“You can’t be okay, not with everything that’s happened.”

I floundered.

If trying to have a conversation with Eden was like trying to swim through molasses, then speaking with Kendra was like I’d been dragged from the gutter, dumped in front of the Queen and expected to produce a solution to an economic crisis.

“Uh…did my dad tell you to come here?” I dodged the question.

“He kept saying you said you didn’t need help.” Kendra waved her hand, each of her fingernails like polished French nail mirrors.

“That’s what I said.” I insisted.

“Bethany,” she looked at me and I wanted to recoil but had nowhere to go, “you’re in a strange town in a strange building, trying to run a café that you have no experience doing while looking after your comatose aunt, reeling from your dad’s engagement barely six months after your mother’s death. Of course you need help.”

“For starters,” I blurted, “this isn’t a strange town or building. I lived in Glenwilde for ten years and during that time ‘House of Figs’ was practically my home. Aunt Jo is in excellent care at the hospital and as for help,” I glanced over my shoulder at the guys, “I have it. Aunt Jo trained them up so that they can handle everything.”

“Except deliver a coffee in a prompt fashion.” Kendra said brusquely.

As if on cue, or perhaps she had seen him coming and had made the statement so that he could hear it as he approached, Rafael deposited the coffee in front of Kendra. She didn’t seem phased by the blistering look in his eyes, choosing to ignore it and him but I saw it and trembled. I glanced at the coffee, half expecting there to be an obscenity scrawled into the froth. Thankfully there wasn’t one.

“About time.” She remarked as he walked away.

I breathed ‘sorry’ and hoped that his vampiric hearing would not let me down.

“It’s my fault, Kendra, if they’re behind at all.” I hastened to explain. “I’m the waitress and I really should be working.”

She licked the foam off her lips and shrugged. “It’s a bit of a cheek, though, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Making you a waitress while they do the ‘glory’ jobs.”

“I’d hardly call scrubbing the oven, painstakingly decorating cakes and calculating order totals all that glamourous. I like waitressing. It’s a bit rough on the feet some days and sometimes customers can be jerks but it’s way better than what I used to do.”

“Oh, how’s that going, by the way?”

I sighed, knowing I’d led into this segway. “I was terminated.”

“Oh,” she might have meant it compassionately but all I felt was condescension, “that’s too bad.”

“I’m quite happy about it. I’ve got a job I love and people I love to work with now.” I insisted. “This is a good place for me to be. I should really get back to work.”

I stood up to go, hoping rather than believing that the conversation was over.

“I must say, I was surprised…”

I turned back to Kendra, watching as she sipped her latte, knowing full well I ought to walk away yet was compelled to ask,

“What about?”

“You reopening the café. Given that your aunt is in a coma and she is the one with the experience running the café…the fact that you chose to reopen is very…brave.” My jaw clenched. I wanted to challenge the ‘brave’ remark but I bit it back, knowing that she was goading me. “I mean, you don’t know anything about running a café.”

“Neither do you.” I shot before I could stop myself.

Kendra looked up, not at all intimidated by my standing over her. “This is true,” she admitted, “however, I do hold a degree in business management and I am employed as the manager of a hotel in the city. Before I came along it was fumbling into debt. I was able to revitalise it and now, we’re looking at making it a franchise of elite and specialised services.”

“‘House of Figs’ is hardly in a beleaguered state.”

“Nice word use.” I fumed. “Of course ‘House of Figs’ is doing fine now…but have you thought everything through? Do you have all the permits and legal documentation in order?” Kendra stood up. “Bethany, have you even considered the ramifications if mismanagement of the accounts were ever to arise? You would bear the blame.”

“Rob handles all of that.” I said firmly, hiding the terror deep inside. “I trust him implicitly.”

“That’s a lot of trust for someone you barely know.” Kendra folded her arms. “What about health inspections? What if there was a snap inspection? Would your kitchen be up to scratch?”

“Bastian and Faelan keep it immaculate.”

“And as for your barista,” Kendra’s eyes fluttered towards Rafael, “he is quite literally the face of the coffee window…he ought to smile and have a friendly demeanour.”

I was pretty sure, while Rafael wasn’t a big smiler, he saved his scathing glares for customers who were unpleasant or rude.

“Rafael’s skill and commitment to his art speaks volumes.” I defended. “You just caught him on an off day.”

“Well, I’ll be around a bit so we’ll see if his attitude improves.”

“Around?” I felt weak. “You’re…staying? There’s no need. You have a hotel to run.”

“And it does, like clockwork.” Kendra boasted. “I have business in Glenwilde so I’ll pop in now and then just to see how you’re doing.”

“Okay…I have to get back to work.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

I turned and walked away, picking up an order from the counter. I paused, trembling.

“I am so…so…”

“Thank you.” Rafael said quietly, placing a coffee order on the counter next to me.

I looked at him weakly and wanted to start crying then and there but I couldn’t. I knew Kendra was still in her chair. She wouldn’t miss an opportunity to belittle my efforts. Sobbing in the café would give her plenty of emotional ammunition.

And, because Kendra had staying power, she remained in her wingback chair until shortly before closing. And when she left, she waved and said,

“See you round!”

When the last customer left, I locked the door and sagged.

“Easy, Bethany St James,” Rob took my arm, “I have you.”

“And I thought vampires were blood suckers.” Rafael snarled.

“What an utter…” Bastian swore into his hand.

“Has she always treated you like that?” Faelan asked.

“I…guess. You heard?”

“Every word.”

I groaned and sank into a chair. “Kendra is what my parents wanted me to be like.”

“They wanted you to be a heartless…” Bastian barely restrained himself.

“Professional…polished…successful.” I sank my head into my hands. “She was the perfect cousin completing her degree in half the usual time while I was struggling to get a B average.”

“Delightful.” Rafael muttered.

“She was not serious, was she, about staying in Glenwilde for a few days?” Faelan asked.

“Why would she plague ‘House of Figs’ like that?” Bastian demanded.

“Maybe she likes the coffee?” Faelan looked at Rafael.

“No, she’s not interested in the coffee,” I felt Rafael’s eyes on me and peeked up from under my hands, “she’s after ‘House of Figs’.”

“She always has been.” Rob acknowledged. “However, her attempts at cutting her way in have been circumvented because she lacked the backing.”

“But she manages a hotel now,” I huffed, “and has financial backing to attempt a hostile takeover.”

“That wasn’t just hostile,” Rafael seethed, “that was downright predatory.”

“At least your father told Kendra that you did not require her help.” Faelan said gently and his words were a soothing balm against the ragged edge of my soul. “That is encouraging, is it not?”

“It was nice to hear.” I admitted. “Kendra would have jumped at the chance to tell me that my own father ordered her up here to ‘take care’ of me.”

“So,” Bastian cracked his knuckles, “what do we do?”

I sighed and stood up. “It’s a free country,” I said quietly, “and Kendra has the right to visit the café…but only to order coffee or whatever else is on the menu.”

“I apologise for my lack of smile.”

Rafael’s humble apology fired me up.

I snorted. “You know what? No one thinks you’re sullen when they order takeaway coffee. She was being a bitch towards you then condemned you for responding to it. It was a trap.” I shook my head. “No more. I’m done with being trapped by the expectation of being her.”

“Here, here!” Bastian declared.

“So,” I looked at the four of them, “we will continue to run ‘House of Figs’ as we have always done, with excellence, quality over quantity and friendly service without grinning like a creepy clown.” Rafael allowed a small smile at that. “We won’t be intimidated by her and her tailored suit and manicure.” I glanced at my nails and shoved them in my pocket.

“You’re beautiful, Bethany,” Bastian said warmly, “don’t ever forget it.”

“If you do, we will remind you.” Faelan added.

“And I would like to say, that I appreciate your words.” Rob took my hand and turned me towards him. “That you trust me. You have good reason not to.”

“The reasons for trusting you far outweigh the ones to not.”

“It was good to hear.” Faelan confessed. “In fact, you spoke more strongly in defence of us than you did of yourself.”

“The elf is right. You defended us,” Bastian nodded, “we won’t forget it.” He turned to Faelan. “We also better live up to it because, apparently, we keep the kitchen immaculate.”

“I wouldn’t fall over yourselves normally but given that Kendra might be looking for a foot in the door, I wouldn’t put it past her to get a health inspector to make an unexpected inspection.”

“Then I will make sure my work station is equally immaculate.” Rafael bowed.

“Thanks guys.” I rubbed my arms, feeling cool despite the rising temperature of the days as we headed towards spring. I began to collect the cups and plates from the tables, my back turned to the kitchen. It was then that I allowed myself to close my eyes and give a silent whimper. Despite my declarations, I knew that Kendra would not be dissuaded so easily.

We were in for a fight.

‘House of Figs’ was closed the next day. I was surprised when Bastian insisted on accompanying me to the hospital to visit Aunt Jo.

“Aren’t you a werewolf clan alpha?” I asked when he told me he was coming. “Don’t you have, I dunno…clan stuff to do?”

“The other werewolf clans tend to leap into battle readily but I do not run my clan like that.” Bastian explained. “Besides, after yesterday, you could use the company.”

“Oh could I?” I said with my hands on my hips.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

“Fine!” I threw up my hands. “You can come.”

“I know.”

We walked towards the hospital, no longer requiring heavy coats or thick cardigans against the winter snap. Bastian looked up as a pair of birds twitted overhead.

“Mating season is upon us.”

“What’s the weather like in Alte Fehde?”

“The days are pleasant at the moment but the Wolfgang clan resides in a castle in the cleft of a mountain. It can be quite cool.”

We continued to walk. “You don’t talk much about life on the other side.”

“That is because when I am here, I am Bastian Wolfgang, grillardin of ‘House of Figs’. When I am there, I am a werewolf…and we can be violent and dangerous.”

He had to moderate his stride quite a bit for me as he was so tall. He’d managed to tuck his ears and tail away, absorbing them into his human form. I’d seen his ears several times and his tail, once. It was hard to imagine him as an actual wolf, especially in his white tshirt, jeans, boots and the oversized letterman jacket. On other people the jacket might have seemed pretentious but on Bastian, it just worked.

“You said the other clans fight?”

“Not each other,” Bastian explained, “the other clans raid human villages and the humans, in turn, retaliate.”

“Sounds like a no win situation.”

“In more ways than one.”

“How so?” We turned up the main street which was all but empty on a Sunday.

“Werewolves were an aberration of humanity. In the beginning of my world, there was one race of wolves that were as intelligent as humans. They had their own culture and communication. They did not act out of instinct but made careful choices. However, humans hunted wolves and saw no difference between the breeds.”

“They killed them all, regardless.” I said quietly.

“Yes. The leader of the wolves, a handsome fellow like myself, decided to treaty with the humans, to negotiate peace. It was difficult because the humans feared the wolves and many of the wolves doubted the humans would keep their word. The leader of the wolves agreed to host the embassy of peace in the hidden den of the wolves. Only three humans were brave enough to come. The wolves broke bread with them, shared their wine and committed themselves to peace.”

“Oh I hate to ask…”

Bastian shrugged. “The humans attacked before dawn, slaughtering dozens…all because they did not believe the wolves would keep their word…”

“But the humans broke it first!”

“Yes,” Bastian laughed softly, “so afraid were they of being betrayed that they struck the first treasonous blow.”

I glanced up at his handsome profile. “What happened next?”

“The wolves retaliated. Before the humans who had slaughtered the wolves had returned to the safety of the walls of their village, the wolves had already attacked.” Bastian closed his eyes. “The humans killed dozens…but the wolves did twice as much damage…maybe more.”

I swallowed. “How does this fit in with werewolves?” We crossed the small stretch of parkland before entering the carpark, heading for the hospital.

“Some of the victims survived the attack but had been bitten. When a full moon arose, they transformed into werewolves, able to walk upright, taller than any man and with four times the strength. Some of them were killed but others escaped. They wandered aimlessly, hunted by humans who feared their unnatural form. It seemed as though they would all be wiped out. But a few survived, mated, had children and discovered that their progeny carried the werewolf aberration which meant, every full moon, their bodies changed. Some tried to live secretly with humans, hiding their transformation but if they mated with a human, their children were always born as werewolves. And any humans bitten by one of the original dark wolves became werewolves.”

“What about humans bitten by werewolves?”

“Nothing.”

“They didn’t change?”

Bastian shook his head. “The original transformation came from the dark wolves, who are extinct. The only way werewolves can propagate now, is by having children.”

“Huh…that’s not how I’ve heard werewolf stories told before.” I pushed open the door at the hospital and led Bastian through.

“Jo said as much. She said, our story was something of a rarity. Not just an illicit love affair between human and werewolf or the dangerous villain…but a lineage of werewolves.”

“It’s hard to imagine a lineage of werewolves.” I mused.

“From what I can gather, we are a little like Vikings, groups of us bonding together, families, both immediate and vast and, for a time, nomadic. The largest groups become known as clans, smaller groups absorbed into the strongest pack. Overtime, a conclave of the strongest clan leaders was formed.”

“What does the conclave do?”

“In the beginning they met to plot the extermination of the humans. Not much has changed to be honest.”

“Oh.” I pointed to the turn for ICU. “I’m a little frightened to ask but…”

“The Wolfgang clan is one of the oldest and was one of the bloodiest.”

“Okay…”

“Fear not, Bethany, for those days are far behind me.”

I waved to the nurse at the station who smiled and then blushed at Bastian’s wink. I rolled my eyes and led him to Jo’s room. Though Bastian’s world sounded as though it was decidedly less advanced than the one he was currently in, he handled Aunt Jo’s connection, to the point of imprisonment, to the machines that kept her alive, in his stride.

“Hey Jo,” he greeted leaning down, “you look ravishing as always. Ow!” He glared at me after I clipped him over the back of his head. “What?”

“You’re flirting with a comatose woman.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t pay her a compliment.” He chuckled, showing he was not nearly as offended as he made out. I watered the plant and replaced the bag of coffee with a new one, the smell of honey and hazelnuts permeating from it. “Just so you know, Jo, Bethany has things well in hand.” I looked at him in surprise as he continued, not checking to see my reaction. “She watches over us, keeps us in line, makes sure Faelan and I don’t kill each other and has even gotten Rafael to smile! I know!” He put his elbows on the edge of the bed and put his head on his hands. “So you don’t have to worry about a thing. Just concentrate on getting better.”

In moments like these, it was easy to see how someone could fall for the charming, handsome werewolf as he oozed sincere kindness.

“May I come in?” Dr Ishani knocked lightly on the open door.

“Oh, hi!” I greeted as I came around the bed, Bastian standing next to me, a full foot taller. “Sorry I kept missing you.”

“If I didn’t catch you today, I was going to call.” Ishani glanced at Bastian.

“Bastian, this is Dr Ishani who has been looking after Aunt Jo,” I looked at her, “Dr Ishani, this is ‘House of Figs’ grillardin, Bastian Wolfgang.”

Dr Ishani held out her hand. Bastian took it, turned so the palm was facing down and gave her a gentlemanly bow.

“Charmed.” He said with a smoulder.

“Well…” She gave a small laugh and I knew exactly how she felt. “Bethany, would you mind if we had that chat now?”

I looked at Bastian to ask if it would be alright. He was already sitting in the chair by Aunt Jo’s bedside, taking up the book I’d brought her a few weeks before.

“I’m good,” he put his feet up, “I’ll be here reading to Jo.” He cleared his throat and spoke in his huskiest, textured tone. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

“Just how long do you think I’m gonna be?”

He winked at me and I rolled my eyes and followed Dr Ishani who was speaking on her phone before hanging up.

“My office is way down at the other end of the hospital.” She opened a door to another room. “This office is empty.”

“Okay…” A man, clutching a tablet beneath his arm and glasses, approached us. “Uh…”

“Chris, that was quick!”

“I wasn’t far away when you called.” Chris looked at me. “Hi, I’m Chris Billings.”

“Bethany St James.” I shook his hand followed Ishani into the office, Chris following us and closing the door. The office had a desk, computer and phone but there was also a low coffee table with a few chairs around in. Ishani sat in one and gestured for me to take a seat. “So…”

“Chris is from legal.” Ishani explained. “I asked him to sit in with us today as I am a little out of my depth.”

“Right…” My palms were beginning to sweat.

Ishani paused, thought for a moment then looked at me. “Bethany, do you know how the public health service handles coma cases where there isn’t immediate family or a living will in place?”

“Uh…no.” I stammered.

Ishani glanced at Chris who nodded, taking notes. “Basically, the public health service has a policy that coma patients are given a three month bubble. During this time there are three outcomes which usually occur. A living will surfaces, identifying the patient’s wants or carer to be responsible for them, they get better or they pass away. However, in a very small amount of cases, no will exists and the patient doesn’t die but they also don’t get better.”

My chest was very, very tight. I nodded, hoping I was conveying something more than sinking terror.

“Your aunt’s case falls into this small category and honestly, this hospital has never had to address it before.” Ishani cleared her throat. “After three months, if there has been no indication of mental activity, it is public health service policy to turn off the machines.”

“But…” I rasped. “Aunt Jo…those machines are the only things keeping her alive!”

“I know. She is fully dependant.”

“You’re talking about killing her!” I got up, panic flooding me, ready to flee. “You…I can’t believe you brought me here to talk about killing my aunt!”

“Bethany, please…I am on your side.” Ishani stood up. “Anyone with half a brain can see that you care deeply for your aunt and are not ready to lose her. I understand that and I want to help you.”

“Help…me?” I sank into the chair again.

“Yes,” she nodded, sitting down with another glance at Chris, “by bringing Chris in to talk about your legal options.”

“Basically it’s very simple,” Chris said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “without a living will or immediate relatives, a patient is very vulnerable. It doesn’t happen often but there can be disputes and legal battles over a patient in a persistent vegetative state. In these rare cases, it is up to a judge to make a decision as to who the carer is.”

“I spoke to Chris last week,” Ishani came back in, “and he says what we need to do is to have a judge put your aunt officially in your care. That way you make the decisions over her care and, if it comes to it, termination.” I gulped but said nothing. “It also means you’re responsible for her as well which will result in financial consideration past the three month deadline. The public health service budget only stretches so far.” Ishani put her hand on mine. She could probably feel that it was about two degrees up from freezing. “Johanne West has displayed no responsiveness or change in mental activity in just over two months. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this…but it has.”

“So,” I whispered, “in less than a month, I’m expected to build a case that I’m the right person to be made carer of my aunt?” I looked up. “And…I have to make this case…before a judge? Or else…”

“In four weeks, I am obligated to submit the assessment of her coma, that it is a persistent vegetative state…and the public health service will rule in favour of termination.”

At that moment, I felt like the world was going dark.

It wasn’t like fainting.

It was more like the walls were closing in and the lights had gone out…and I was left pushing against the crush of inevitability.