“The world was hers for the reading.”
- Betty Smith
We must have made a funny sight, facing each other on the footpath, Jet holding out a blood red orange and me looking like I wanted to run away.
I swallowed, my words having fallen to the ground with a bit of a thump.
“I really am sorry, Jet,” I repeated, “I was stupid and unkind and I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that…”
“Do you think I’m angry with you?”
I blinked. “Well…yes…because you are.”
Jet’s eyes conveyed confusion, not comprehension.
“No…”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You have to be.”
“Why?”
“Because I was horrible to you!”
“You were angry.”
“Yes!”
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were!”
“No, I wasn’t.” Jet paused. “I’m getting annoyed now but I wasn’t angry then.”
I gaped at him. “But…you left!”
“Yes.” He nodded. I felt my hands scrunch in infuriation but reminded myself to calm down.
“Why did you leave?”
He looked to the side. “I…I didn’t know what else to do. I told you, I don’t do well with people and emotional, angry women are terrifying.”
“Messy.” I folded my arms. “You called me messy.”
“You are,” Jet nodded, “but not you specifically. People, all people are messy. I wasn’t having a go at you.”
“Just at everyone?”
“Yes.” Jet shrugged. “I prefer fictional characters who have a beginning, a middle and an end. They start, they have their part to play and they finish. Their segways in stories have a purpose and when it says, the end, I know it’s finished. I don’t know what to do with irrational, emotional, angry women.”
“So…you didn’t leave because you were angry?” Jet shrugged and I closed my eyes. “But…you didn’t just leave ‘House of Figs’. You left Glenwilde and went back to your mum’s. That’s a pretty long way to go to get away from an irrational, emotional person.”
“I didn’t leave Glenwilde to get away from you.” Jet tilted his head. “I went because I wanted to talk to my mum.”
I stared at him. “What about?”
“The five thing…” Jet pushed the handle into his suitcase and set the orange on top. “I wanted to know just how long I’ve had this obsession.”
“You could have called or messaged her.”
“She has my school reports.”
“Oh.” It seemed so logical when he said it and I started to feel a bit silly that I’d made his departure from Glenwilde into such a personal event. I leaned on the fence. “Did they shed light on anything?”
Jet sighed. “Apparently I’ve had an obsession with five ever since I was five or thereabouts. No one told me. Mum though it was a cute habit and ignored the teacher’s remarks on my report cards about ‘obsessions’ and ‘inflexibility’.” He closed his eyes and scrunched his forehead as he shook his head. “Cute…I look back now…the things I did…the need I had and still have to make things round out into fives.” He peered at me as though expecting me to start backing away, like he was too weird to be around. Given that my childhood home was inhabited by fictional fantasy characters, I was getting quite used to weird. “I had to collect those metal diecast cars…but only five. I had a box full, people kept giving them to me but I only wanted the original five. I used to line them up on my bedside. I couldn’t sleep unless they were all there and I’d wake up in a panic during the night in case they’d moved. I…I still have them…on a shelf. My doona cover was from that show with the five superhero kids…but I don’t have that anymore.” I shrugged helplessly. “Some things it didn’t matter with and others…like sharpening my pencil. Always five turns of the sharpener and if it wasn’t sharp enough, back I went for another five turns, snapping the lead.” Jet pushed his hand through his hair. “The teacher got so angry at me for wasting time sharpening my pencils…what a screw up!”
“Hey, you’re not a screw up.” I stepped forward, into his personal space. “Stop that. Everyone has little things they do to get them through the day. Look at Rafael and his coffee, or Bastian and meat and Faelan and his fascination with sweets…”
“They don’t chuck a violent meltdown when trying to be dragged from the bin halfway through a sharpening and swing punches at the teacher.” Jet cringed.
“No…but Rafael’s highly unpleasant until he’s had at least three cups of coffee.”
Jet swallowed and looked away. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Jet, people are messy…your words. You are part of the ‘people’ in that sentence. You’re allowed to be messy too.”
“And all my efforts at trying to control the world only make it impossible to act like a human being.” Jet muttered. “It’s…like an itch I can’t scratch.”
“Does knowing about your compulsion help?” I asked gently.
“Perhaps, maybe a little.” He admitted.
“That’s something then, yeah?” He nodded. I licked my lips. “I’m really glad you came back, Jet. I…felt terrible, thinking I’d driven you away.”
He shifted awkwardly. “I…if I hadn’t seen you standing there, I probably would have avoided you for a while.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.” I glanced at ‘House of Figs’. “Want to come say hi?”
“I’ll take my case in first.” Jet picked up the orange and handed it to me. This time I took it. “You won’t tell the guys, will you, about the five thing?”
“I feel like they might have already picked up on it,” I cringed, “but if that’s the case, they’re hardly likely to start teasing you about it now.”
“Yeah, true. Alright, I’ll come up later.”
I turned and walked away with a spring in my step.
What a big difference a small conversation could make.
Despite ‘House of Figs’ getting back on top of its game like Rob had promised Kendra it would, she didn’t seem entirely pleased when she arrived that day for coffee.
“Probably hoping we’d be closed again and ready to pounce.” Rafael muttered, handing me her coffee order.
“Well, we showed her.” I winked and did my best to be jaunty and upbeat as I took the coffee to Kendra.
She looked up at me as I set her coffee on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me ‘House of Figs’ had lost two of its key people?” She said by way of greeting.
“It happened very suddenly.” I said, reminding myself to remain calm. A decent amount of sleep had restored my ability to cope with Kendra in small doses but the encounters still sent my heart racing.
“It would have taken no effort to call me and say you needed help. I have contacts. I could have had replacement staff here almost straight away.”
“Bastian was out for two days and Faelan, only one. It’s hardly the fall of the Roman Empire.” I retorted.
“It’s the reputation of ‘House of Figs’ that’s at stake.” Kendra argued. “You put its business in jeopardy because you were too proud to contact me.” She folded her arms and eyed me with a flinty gaze. “You seem to be treating me like the enemy. I’m only here to help.”
“I didn’t ask for it and we’re doing just fine.” I grasped my round tray like a shield. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
Unfortunately the two day closure had reinforced Kendra’s claim that I was incapable of running the café. As such, she was there every day for the next week and it was hard not to see her eyes criticising everything I did.
“You must not let her get to you.” Faelan insisted softly.
“I know.” I squeezed his hand before picking up an ice cream sundae.
“I could crush a laxative into her coffee…”
“Don’t you dare.” I eyed Rafael and took the sundae to where Jess and her two children were sitting. “Here you go, compliments of Faelan.” I handed two year old Max a spoon who beamed, his box of toys scattering in his enthusiasm. Peggy was asleep in her stroller, her cheeks red and drool trickling out of the corner of her mouth, teething and miserable.
“Oh he really shouldn’t…” Jess smiled and waved at Faelan who nodded.
Jess hastily began to pick up the toys. I knelt, sensing she was uneasy about something.
“Something wrong?”
“I just don’t want to be a bother…”
“You’re not.”
“No, not to you. I know that.” Jess insisted then her voice lowered to a whisper. “One of the cars rolled over there,” she pointed behind her, “and I heard the woman say, this is a café not a day care.”
I bristled with anger, knowing exactly who had said that.
“Jess,” I made her look at me, “we would rather have you here any day of the week than her.”
Jess sighed and shook her head. “She’s right. It isn’t a day care.”
“They’re hardly running amuck!” I laughed and ruffled Max’s hair, his face smeared with ice cream and chocolate syrup.
Jess smiled and sat in her chair. I was glad she wasn’t insisting on leaving immediately.
“Did I tell you, I got an interview?”
“No, you didn’t.”
Jess blushed. “It’s for a support provider service for elderly people. Cleaning houses, taking them shopping or out for a coffee. I filled in the application online on my own. I didn’t think I could ever do that…but after reading the books you and Jo lent me, I felt like…if I can read that, I can fill in a job application.” Her joy slightly diminished and she shrugged. “The only work I’ve ever done is checkout chick at a counter. The pay was awful and the hours were long.”
“This sounds much better.” She nodded, her smile fading. “What is it?”
“I…I’ve never had an interview before.”
“You got something smart to wear?” I asked.
Jess pulled a face. “Not business suit smart…”
“As long as it’s clean, neat and practical.” I insisted. “Heels and a halter neck are useless when looking after someone. You want to look approachable.”
“Oh,” Jess paused, “I have that. I definitely have that. Nice and neat and practical. I can do that.”
She smiled broadly, her fears dispelled.
“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.” I insisted.
“I will.”
After they’d left, I put the dishes on the counter to go in the sink and then returned to pack up the toys. I knew there was a random car somewhere in the bay window and went on the hunt for it. I found it by Kendra’s handbag and sat up, holding it in triumph.
“You know she left without paying.” I heard Kendra say.
“I know. Jess doesn’t.”
“You think you have the authority to give away coffee and sweets and goodness knows what else?”
I got to my feet and brushed my knees free of non-existent dust. “I didn’t. It was Aunt Jo.”
I had the pleasure of seeing Kendra being ever so slightly taken aback. It was not a sight I’d ever seen before.
“No wonder she nearly ran this place into the ground herself,” Kendra muttered, clawing back the ground she’d lost, “‘House of Figs’ is not a charity.”
I stared at her, steel jawed and unimpressed.
“I suppose you disapprove of the ‘free slice or muffin with coffee purchase to anyone sporting a hospital ID’?”
“No of course not.” Kendra stood up. “That boosts ‘House of Figs’ reputation in the public domain. It increases good will. It might even be enough for ‘House of Figs’ to be nominated for an award.”
“But a free coffee and bowl of wedges to a young mum and her two children wouldn’t.”
“Exactly.” Kendra nodded.
I couldn’t think of anything particularly witty to say. I just wanted to start hurling abuse at her but Bastian called me over to pick up an order and I escaped the public dressing down display. Jet came by not long before closing and passed Kendra, ducking out of her way as if sensing she was not to be messed with.
“I know this is a sore point,” Rafael announced, “but when are you going to stand before that judge?”
“I don’t think a judge’s ruling will stop Kendra from coming every day.” Bastian remarked.
“Surely she’s got better things to do.” I moaned.
“Elves usually have extremely restrained tempers,” Faelan’s mouth turned down, “but even I wanted to tear strips off her for her unkindness.”
“She just doesn’t see the value in an individual like Jess…or anyone.” I felt the pull of despair, knowing that the date I was to stand before a judge was looming.
“Query, shall we sit down and discuss the haiku clues now that Jet is with us?”
At Rob’s urging we sat at the long table.
“Query, Bethany, will you read the haikus to us in order?”
I laid the slips of paper on the table and cleared my throat.
“Enchanted I was.
Friend or Fiend? Take care.
Too trusting was I.
The folly of man.
The pride…the fall…then nothing.
Bones groan in despair.
Conceived in darkness.
To see transgression undone.
Frail, tenacious hope.
Seed of creation.
Earth, metal, water, wood, fire.
Elemental borne.”
I paused and looked up. “From the numbers on the haikus, I’m only missing the last one.” I gazed around at their faces. “It doesn’t mean anything to any of us, does it?”
There was a long, damning silence.
I swallowed.
“Does it sound to anyone else like someone screwed up?” Rafael asked softly. We all turned to him and he raised his head, his hair like a black frame around his pale face. “The folly of man? There was pride, then there was a fall and then, nothing…and his bones groan in despair.”
“Maybe something went so wrong that someone’s body, their very bones, ached to have it put right?” Faelan looked at me. “Like the loss of a loved one?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “It does sound like that.”
“So, in darkness, in the depths of sorrow or depression…an idea of hope was conceived to undo a transgression?” Bastian mused.
“Okay…” I pointed to the last one. “I don’t get the next one at all. Seed of creation and then all those elements?”
“According to some traditions, everything in the universe comes from the five elements, wood, fire, earth, water and metal. From the smallest atom to the formation of the solar system, all things are said to be composed of some combination of these elements.” Jet read out from his phone. He saw our looks. “I can’t translate poetry but I can use the internet.”
“It sounds like someone is trying to make something.” Rob said slowly. “Seed of creation, something being planted. Something new.”
“And all the elements of this tradition are in the haiku, like a recipe…” Faelan breathed.
“And whatever it is that is being created, it is elemental borne, from those five elements.” Bastian nodded. “I see it now.”
“Hey, that’s interesting…” Jet held out his phone. “Look at the picture associated with the philosophy.”
I took it and stared at the screen. There was something familiar about it…
“It’s a pentagram?” I shook my head then I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Oh! Oh I get it!”
“What?”
“Everyone, stand up!” As they did, I pushed chairs and tables out of the way, forming a space in the café. “Now, Faelan,” I turned to the elf, “do you remember what is on the back of your door?”
“The back?”
“Your side I mean, the side of the door in Ilanard?”
Faelan blinked. “It was a tree.”
“Right and trees are made out of wood.” I took him by the shoulders and set him in a corner. “You stand there. Jet, can you fill in for Eustace?”
“Sure…” I moved him to stand on Faelan’s left. “You’re fire. Wood,” I pointed at Faelan and then turned to Jet, “and you’re fire.”
“Why me? I mean, why me pretending to be Eustace?” Jet asked.
“Because on the dragon world side of his door, there is a flame engraved.” I looked at Bastian.
“I see where this is going,” he nodded, “on my door, it looks as though someone engraved a depiction of Befest, the keep built against a cave that acts like a den…in the earth.”
I nodded and put him somewhat opposite Faelan in the circle. I turned to Rob.
“The door on the Infinitus side is not made of wood like the others,” Rob explained, “it is made of metal and engraved into its façade is just another door with the word ‘metal’ marked in machine code.”
“So you are metal.” I moved him to stand to Bastian’s left then turned to Rafael.
“Water,” he said softly, “it is water upon my door…” He took up his spot, between Rob and Faelan. I stood in the middle and turned around.
“The doors represent these five elements…and in a way, so do all of you.” I looked at Faelan. “You’re an elf and you have a deep connection with things that grow like trees. Eustace,” I nodded at Jet, “is a dragon and he is able to breathe fire again.” I looked at Bastian. “Wolves and even werewolves, make their homes in the earth. Even Befest is in a cave and Infinitus,” I turned to Rob, “is artificial and at its core, it’s more metal than anything else.”
I twisted and looked at Rafael. “Yours is the one I don’t fully get. Is there a lot of water in your world?”
“No.” Rafael shook his head. “There is not…but there might have been before vampires rose as the dominant race. The climate is greatly changed because of it.”
“There is something missing.” I turned to Bastian who pointed at my feet. “What goes there?”
“What do you mean ‘what goes there’?” I asked. “It’s the middle.”
“It’s just…there?”
“Werewolves have no comprehension of ‘white space’.” Faelan murmured.
“It looks empty.” Bastian insisted.
“Do you know something else…” Rafael studied our position. “I think this is where my door is.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the Observatory, my door is between Rob’s and Faelan’s.”
“I know my door is almost directly opposite Bastian’s.” Faelan gazed at him from across the weird circle.
“We are all standing where our doors would be.” Rob confirmed.
“Then the doors, the Observatory or Folly or whatever it’s called, the books…it’s all tied in together, isn’t it?” I shrugged. “Why?”
“Maybe it’s in the last haiku?” Jet looked at Rafael.
“I haven’t found it.” He insisted. “There are so few places it could be.”
“We have seen that Jo has entrusted the haikus to people within the fictional worlds.” Rob pointed out.
“Is there anyone Aunt Jo might have trusted enough to give the haiku to?”
“I told you,” Rafael put his long fingers against his forehead, “she only came the once. I found her and made her leave. It’s not safe. She certainly didn’t have the chance to bond with anyone…no one can be trusted there.”
He was agitated and becoming emotional.
“Well…it’s not like I need it desperately,” I blurted, hoping to calm him down, “I have to get my testimony together and recite it before the judge. I can’t risk going to any worlds before then. We have time to figure it out.”
Rafael nodded, lowering his hand.
“Well,” Bastian yawned and stretched his arms, “I have business in Alte Fehde and should probably be leaving.”
“To the human city?” I asked and he nodded. “What takes you there?”
“I’m going to have a word with that captain of theirs. I’m hoping to start a bit of trade between the werewolves and humans. Meat for milk, that sort of thing.”
I tried not to smirk. “Is Armin going with you?”
“I couldn’t stop him if I tried.” Bastian snorted. “I thought werewolf/human relations would take years to develop…not five minutes.”
“Two people with a mutual attraction don’t mean the two separate communities they come from will bond so easily.” I pointed out.
“Of that I am well aware.” Bastian bowed and gave me a wink. “As tomorrow is our closed day, I shall see you in a week.”
“Ugh, time difference does my head in.” I laughed. “See you in two days.”
He chuckled and walked out with Rafael giving a shallow bow and leaving. Faelan approached me.
“Do you have some books to share with Bronwyn?”
“You’re going to use your day off to visit Elvan?”
“Perhaps not Elvan directly but my mother did want to know how I had recovered.” Faelan shrugged slightly…awkwardly. “I thought, having the books…”
“Oh, a bit of an excuse?”
“It seems shallow when you say it.”
“Sorry. I’ll get the books together.” Faelan put the backpack on his back and headed into his world.
“I am going to perform a stocktake.” Rob announced and headed into the pantry, assuring us that he did not require assistance.
“And just like that, they’re all gone.” I sighed and looked at Jet.
“It’s strange…”
“Not really. It’s their day off tomorrow…”
“No,” Jet looked at his phone and then at the table where the little haikus rested, “the way this is all playing out. Five haikus, five books, five doors, five elements, five guys…”
“Yeah,” I paused, “I did notice that. But, if it helps, in my world, there are six guys.”
He looked at me strangely. “Six?”
“Yeah, Bastian, Faelan, Rafael, Rob, Eustace and you.”
Jet snorted. “You can’t possibly put me in the same category as the others.”
“Why not? You’re here. You’re a guy…”
“Let’s face it, I’m not even in the same league as them.” He retorted. “Let’s do the head count, shall we? Bastian, a charismatic, charming werewolf, Faelan, a pure, noble elf, Rafael a moody, brooding vampire, Eustace, a joyful happy dragon and Rob, a steady, intuitive, handsome robot. And then there’s me. Socially awkward, has a mad obsession with five and hasn’t got a clue about women.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Jet…are you jealous?”
“Yeah, of course I am.” I gaped at him and he folded his arms and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I felt a blush steal across my face, not sure where this conversation was going. “If I had even a drop of Bastian’s confidence or Faelan’s calm, Rob’s emotionless state, Eustace’s joy or even the ‘don’t care what people think of me’ attitude from Rafael…growing up would have been a hell of a lot easier.”
“Oh,” I laughed shakily, “that’s what you’re jealous of.”
“What else is there?”
“Oh, nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Jet, just because the world’s made you out to be odd, doesn’t mean you are.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not, either.”
“Yes…I think. Was that a double negative?”
“Possibly a triple.” Jet shrugged. “Pops needs me to take him shopping. I should get going before the shops close and he’s left without his long life milk.”
“I can’t stand it.” I shuddered.
“Neither can I but he seems to think it’s the best thing ever.” Jet waved. “Bye then.”
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
I watched him go then put the café tables and chairs back in order before gathering the notes with the haikus on them into my hand. I went over the paperwork I needed to provide and checked the date for my scheduled appearance before the judge.
“Judge Howard Pence.” I read. “Four o’clock in the afternoon.” I glanced at my phone. “By this time in a week, it’ll be over…” I could feel my anxiety rising like a high tide. I put the papers away and distracted myself with other things like my washing, making dinner, checking up on Rob and, after a shower, climbed into bed. I picked up the haikus and stared at the words, wishing they made more sense.
“It felt like we really uncovered some of the mystery today,” I mused, “so why does it feel like we’re no closer to the answer? Why is it still as much of a mystery as it was when I found the first one?”
I rolled onto my side and put the haikus near the lamp before turning out the light.
Sometime during the night, I heard a sound and opened my eyes.
I waited in the darkness, listening for what it could be, wondering if the fig tree had tapped my window with its twiggy fingers.
And then I heard it again, the sound of a lock turning and then I thought I heard the creak of a door.
I swung my legs out of bed and, because I wasn’t really thinking, went past my dressing gown and slippers and peeked past my door.
“Rob?” I called softly.
There was no answer.
I frowned and went to the office but the door was locked. Confused I checked the lounge room. The moon was shining brightly and light streamed through the window that faced the backyard. I walked up to it, wondering if Rob was outside working in the garden. Given that he didn’t need to sleep, he sometimes used his wakefulness to perform maintenance on ‘House of Figs’.
There was someone standing in the moonlight. I peered down at them.
It wasn’t Rob.
It wasn’t lean enough to be Faelan.
Or tall enough to be Bastian.
I put my fingers to the glass and leaned closer.
Whoever it was, was staring at the Observatory.
My breath struck the glass and the person tilted their head and then turned and looked up at me, their eyes bright and blue.
“Eustace!”
I dashed out of the lounge room, practically flew down the stairs and ran out the back door, heading to the portion of lawn I’d seen him standing on. He wasn’t there.
“Eustace?” My feet were bitten by an icy frost on the lawn. I darted away, seeing my footprints perfectly parked as dark patches against the frosted grass. There were no others. “Wait…was I dreaming? Am I dreaming?”
Disorientated and confused I retreated to the pavers, my toes screaming blue murder at how cold they were. Then I spied the figure standing at the Observatory, his blue eyes meeting mine once before he opened the door and slipped inside. I sprinted after him, flinging the door open just to see him open the door to the dragon world before disappearing into it, the door closing behind.
I ran to the door, grasping it just before it closed and flung myself after him, expecting to see the blue skies and endless ocean of Eustace’s world. However, the sky was filled with storming clouds, crackles of lightning and peals of thunder that sounded as though someone was beating the world like a drum. I could see floating islands in the distance, drifting endlessly over an ocean in turmoil. I could see the shape of dragons far in the distance, billowing fire and thrashing through the clouds, romping in the churning waves that groaned with violence. And, as I listened, I heard something else. The waves were crashing upon something.
Wait,” I breathed, “the island isn’t attached to the ground. It doesn’t have stone blocks…where am I?” I walked forward timidly and discovered I was on a balcony of a tower. It was built on a cliff face, perched precariously as if a moderate wind in the wrong direction could tip it over, shattering it against the rocks below. The spray from the waves struck me, cold and hard like being slapped with icicles. I wiped it out of my eyes.
“Did the door move?” I twisted. “Is this part of the old ruins?”
I went back to the door and felt a chill of horror. The Observatory didn’t look right. The spaces where the bookshelves were still existed but the books on the shelves were lined with hundreds of strange volumes, leather bound, parchment paper filled and their spines were scribed with languages I couldn’t make out. Where the doors, the normal doors, were, were windows. I might have tried opening one but the backyard of ‘House of Figs’ was gone. There were no garden beds or lawn, no lattice encouraging creepers to climb or pavers leading from the back door to the Observatory.
From every one of the five windows was the same view.
A barren, desolate landscape.
Not a shred of life.
Not a blade of grass.
Just endless, barren rock.
It was so utterly unfathomable that I was having trouble believing it.
“I must be dreaming.” I pinched myself.
It didn’t work.
I didn’t wake up.
I was still there.
“Rob,” I called softly, “anybody?”
I was trapped in the tiny space that served as the interior of the Observatory. I turned and, using Eustace’s world’s door as a guide, turned one door to the left and opened it, hoping to call out to Faelan.
The door opened on a forest landscape. Thick foliage carpeted the ground and giant trees filled the horizon. Somewhere nearby I could hear the sound of a waterfall and in the dimness that came from being beneath a dense forest canopy, I saw sparkles of light drifting through the air.
“Faelan’s door opens in the ruins of Xephis on a mountain…not in a forest.” I whispered.
I stepped back, closing the door and went to Bastian’s door.
A sea of grass spread out across the ground, the hills blanketed with endless green, broken only by trees gathered here and there. It was night but the world was drenched in the glow of a bright, full moon.
I closed it numbly and went to Rob’s door. Even though I’d vowed never to go back to it, I suspected what I would encounter wouldn’t present the same danger as it had in the past.
I was in a glass tower surrounded by a city that bore a striking resemblance to Infinitus.
Dizzy, I stepped back, closing the door and turned to the only one I hadn’t opened.
“Rafael…” I tried the door but it wouldn’t budge. The others had opened with ease but Rafael’s door remained tightly, utterly and completely closed. I pushed and shoved and kicked the bottom shelf, my heart beginning to race. “What do I do?” I turned around and looked at my little prison. “Can anyone hear me?!”
My voice died against the walls, absorbed into the books.
Then there was an audible click and I heard a strange shunting sound, the ground trembling beneath my feet. I pressed against the bookshelf where Rafael’s door was supposed to be and looked down. The tiles seemed to be falling away, the top portion, where I was standing thank goodness, remained level but the rest, in a descending circle, began to form a spiral staircase. With no other options I began to edge my way down. I kept my hand against the wall as darkness soaked into my world and I could barely see anything. I kept feeling for the next step with my toes and progress was painstakingly slow.
Finally I tried to step down and felt the ground jar me, my feet both on level footing.
It was frighteningly dark yet a golden glow, like the very edge of a lantern’s reach, scattered across the ground. I walked towards it, drawn by the pull of light and the ability to see my surroundings. I walked down the arched corridor, the walls and ceiling painted a rustic gold by the yellow light.
The corridor emptied into a room that was a little smaller than the café portion of ‘House of Figs’. Starting on the lefthand side of the room was a staircase that curved around, heading upwards, possibly disappearing into rooms above. To the right the wall was hung with coats and hats and on the floor were several pairs of shoes. In a cabinet that looked like it was meant to hold bottles of wine, were hundreds of scrolls wrapped with twine. Piled upon the cabinet were even more scrolls, in a basket there were more and I saw several sticking out of shoes and pockets of coats.
And nestled in the alcove created by the staircase, was a large wooden desk with a man sitting on a chair, his back to my position, with a quill in his hand that scratched upon the parchment as he wrote. There were several scrolls discarded at his feet and the golden glow I had followed came from a lamp on his desk.
My skin prickled and my spine went into hiding.
I had seen this very scene before.
It had been in the dragon omnibus book and ‘Synthetic Love’.
I stood like a statue in the doorway, too frightened to move.
The man scratched on his parchment, dipping his quill into the ink well and tapping it on the edge.
He was oblivious to my presence…
…or so I thought.
“Do you intend to keep a very old man waiting?”
I was still before but at his words, I froze. Even my heart stopped and my lungs seized up.
The old man continued to write. “I grow tired of your skulking, Gar’dian.”
I swallowed and managed to squeak out, “I’m not Gar’Dian.”
He gave a small, rasping laugh. “And who have you turned yourself into today? A giant? A mouse? A…” he twisted, his red rimmed eyes getting their first glimpse of me. “A girl? Not your usual style, Gar’Dian, but quite effective.” The old man put the quill into the ink well and turned in his chair, backlit by the lamp so that his features were darkly shadowed. “Come closer. I’m an old man and my eyesight isn’t what it was.”
“That’s what the wolf said to little red riding hood.” I retorted from the safety of the doorway.
He laughed and then he coughed violently. His lungs sounded like someone had sucked a piece of Lego into a vacuum cleaner. At this demonstration of his frailty, I edged closer. He banged on his chest and cleared his throat, lifting his grey eyes to study me. His hair was snowy white, long and straggly. It stuck out from beneath his long cap that looked like a nightcap and he had a beard which was equally long, trailing upon the ground.
“Wait…you’re not Gar’Dian.”
“No, I’m not.” I swallowed.
He wasn’t suspicious, only baffled.
“Where is Gar’Dian?”
“I don’t know.” I had no other answer for him.
“Hmph,” he shook his head, “I don’t know you. Go back where you came from and leave an old man in peace. I have to complete my work.” He hunched over his desk, scratching ink into the parchment so hard he was grinding it into the weave. I had nowhere to go and my head was aching. There was an oppressive atmosphere in the room, like the outside world was pushing in on it. I could almost hear the tower creaking. I peeked up the stairs to the left but they ended against a ceiling with no trapdoor or upper storey in sight.
“Who are you?” I started and looked at the old man who was gazing at me again. “I wasn’t expecting anyone today.”
It suddenly occurred to me that I was in my pjs and in bare feet. I tucked my arms around myself.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be living beneath the Observatory.” I retorted.
“What is the Observatory?”
“The Folly…” I pointed down the passage I had come from.
“Ah,” he moaned, “the folly of man…”
“Yes,” I darted forward, hearing one of the lines of the haiku, “yes, the folly of man!”
“Stay back!” He shouted, the sharpness of his tone drawing an invisible line on the ground. He lunged across his desk, covering his parchment with his arms. “Stay away!”
“Sorry…” I shifted backwards until I felt the press of the wall behind me. “I’m back.”
He glared at me, his eyes unfocussed and wild before he blinked, some sense returning to them.
“I…my work…all the young apprentices want even just a glimpse of my work…to copy and seize as their own.”
“I don’t want your work.”
“That’s what they all say,” he sniggered then paused and looked at his writings, “that’s what they all say…” he whispered and a chill ran up my spine. He was preoccupied with his parchment, reading it, his knobbly fingers that looked like skin stretched over bone and nothing else. He put his hand to his forehead, smearing ink across his wrinkles. “Wait…wait a minute…what was I writing…what…” He turned and stared at me, astonished by my presence. “What are you doing here?”
I swallowed. “I came in…through the tower.” He pointed upwards and I nodded.
“Through one of the doors?” I nodded again. “One of my greatest incantations,” he chuckled with a hollow timbre to his tone, his surprise disappearing instantly, replaced with pride, “yet so beautifully simple when you know how.”
“You made the doors?”
“Of course I made the doors!” He declared, standing up. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I shrugged helplessly, starting to become convinced I was trapped in a tower with a man who wasn’t quite right in the head. “I know I might look a little shabby and impoverished now…but I was once the sorcerer sovereign, the pinnacle of all who had come before me…the culmination of all our work poured into one being.”
“You made magic?”
He snorted. “Magic,” he sneered, pacing the small room, “Magic is a blanket term, turning what I did into frivolity like producing love potions or turning people into animals…” He held out his hands towards me, his fingers hooked like claws and his palms facing upwards. “I created art, the greatest incantations ever produced. Not flotsam and jetsam for the masses…but the words to change seasons, calm the earth, hold back flood waters…move the stars…” His voice cracked as his hands raised up and for a moment I could imagine him standing upon a cliff face, commanding a tsunami to retreat. “I was…a god!” I wasn’t about to argue the point. He lowered his arms and the imposing presence reduced to frailty. “I…that’s what they called me…but I knew I was not. Not until I found the key to creation, to constructing an incantation that would create life!”
“You could do that?” I breathed.
He faltered and swallowed. “I…I have. I did. I’m…sure I did…it was here just a moment ago…” He began digging through the scrolls, pulling them out and scattering them across the floor. “I will prove it to you! It is here…somewhere!” His searching began to become frantic. I scooped up some of the scrolls and opened them. Some of them were filled with random drawings, no more than scribbles, scratched out yet filed as though they held some vital clue. Others had writing on them. I peered at it, the lines on the parchment making little sense.
And then, as I stared, they began to shift upon the surface, forming a single letter.
“I.” I read and then the indigo ink swam together again and formed. “See.” As I continued to read, the ink moved faster and faster. “I see her, hiding in the shadows of the entrance to the tower, not much more than a girl yet holding within her the hope of redemption. I see myself, an old man, so old in fact that I have forgotten what it was I did that was so terrible. Perhaps this is not a bad outcome. Perhaps I will know a little peace before I learn the truth.”
I swallowed and the ink stopped on the next word, waiting for me to catch up.
“Young lady, think me not a fool though I have acted as one. I was once a great sorcerer until I began to believe what people called me. The god Ah’Man. God…that is what I was called yet I knew one incantation still eluded me, despite my skill. The incantation of creation. I would construct an incantation of such masterful design, that life itself would bloom into existence at my very words. Instead I made death.”
“What is it you are reading?” He demanded, peering over my shoulder. “Gibberish! Nonsense! Who wrote such foolishness?” He turned away, muttering to himself. I redirected my attention back to the scroll.
“When I realised what I’d done, I hid it inside my mind…but it was stolen and then it was spoken…and you have seen the remains of my world.”
I swallowed. “That terrible, lifeless landscape…” I looked at the old man. “That was your world?”
He didn’t hear me, so preoccupied was he with hunting through the discarded scrolls, tossing them over his shoulder, admonishing Gar’Dian for his poor housekeeping skills.
I continued to read.
“The moment I heard the words, I saw a glimpse of you,” my skin prickled as the ink formed a sketch of me, hovering at the doorway, looking towards the light, “and of the one whom you are trying to save…” I began to shake. The image shifted to a sketch of Aunt Jo’s face. “In an instant, I saw what would happen and knew you would come when you had unlocked at least four of the doors.” I gave a small gasp. “I created this pocket of time, a memory captured, my soul imprisoned so that I could warn you. In order to save this person who is so dear to you, you must risk what happened to my world happening again for in finding the fifth and final piece of the puzzle, you will have the keys of life and death in your hand.”
“Life and death,” I breathed, “creation…”
“What did you say?” The scroll was suddenly snatched from my hands and the old man, Ah’Man as I guessed him to be, studied the parchment desperately. “No, no, no!” He cried. “This isn’t it! This isn’t the incantation!” And to my horror, he tore it into pieces and scattered them angrily.
“No!” I screamed, scraping the scraps into my hands, the words lost to me. It had been my hope, my explanation…and it was gone. “You complete and utter fool! Look what you’ve done! You ripped up my only chance of saving Aunt Jo!”
His knees cracked as he knelt beside me and I felt his knobbly hand on my back.
“There, there,” he said in a kindly voice, “all is not lost…”
I rubbed at my eyes so hard they stung. “Do you know it?”
“Know what?”
“The fifth piece of the puzzle? The fifth haiku?” He stared at me, blankly. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Your incantation of creation! What are the words? What’s the fifth verse?”
“What are you talking about?” He stared at me blankly.
“Why five? What is it about the number five? Five doors, five books, five elements…”
“You mean the creation of the doors! I have it!” I groaned as he dove into a basket and pulled a scroll out, waving it in triumph. “See, look at this! See my genius!” He unravelled it before me, beaming like a child would when showing off a stick figure drawing.
I gave him a bitter, despairing look before I dropped my eyes to the parchment. There was a sketch of the tower and a diagram of the five doors. The scroll was framed with a thick border of strange markings.
“See the attention to detail, the layout of the doors…the dynamic of the books upon the doors…the magic of words…the power of stories to convey so much more than mere ideas…but of revolutionary thought.”
My chin was quivering and I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, my eyes squinting…and for a moment the markings in the border of the parchment appeared vaguely familiar. I snatched the scroll from Ah’Man and peered at the border, seeing words written within the frame.
“Now that you know what is at stake, I leave it in your hands.” I turned the parchment around. “My world is no more but you can still save yours.” I turned it again. “The walls of my pocket will not withstand the crush of reality.” I twisted it for the final line. “Run, Bethany…run.”
“You’d better do as I say.” I looked up at the back of Ah’Man who was standing, staring at the wall of scrolls, the ground covered in years of painstaking work and the scribbles of a madman. His voice sounded different, stronger, softer.
He turned and looked at me, grief streaking tears down his face.
“Run.”
I went to open my mouth went there was a terrible shattering sound and the whole room creaked and cracked, like it was within the hands of a violent giant attempting to pull it open to look inside. I stumbled to my feet, splinters of stone falling from the ceiling. I made the archway and ran down it, turning at the bottom of the tower stairs to see Ah’Man still standing where he had been before. He gave me a sad, terrible smile before the room caved in and he disappeared. I didn’t have time to scream before a wave of…it wasn’t anything at all but I could feel the hunger of the absence, the all consuming gluttony of endless greed, surging forward. The ground, the walls, everything began to grey and wither and it pushed towards me.
I shrieked as I spun and sprinted up the stairs, stumbling in my haste, terrified beyond all proportion as I felt the tower disintegrate beneath me. The stone lost its rigidity, the steps turning into quicksand, sucking at my feet and I flung myself onto the tiny landing in the tower. The door in front of me was Rafael’s. I didn’t bother wasting time attempting to open it. I twisted on my little platform, took a step, leapt and lunged for the door somewhat opposite. In my hysteria, I couldn’t open it. I banged on the door, screaming at it to open yet my voice was gone. I was being dragged downwards, the tower caving in on itself like a submarine when it goes beyond crush depth.
Soon it would be a withered, curled up husk, a nondescript lump on the dead world.
And it would be my coffin.
Suddenly the door pushed open so violently, I was flung from the tiny edge I had clung to but before I could fall, a hand grasped mine, the scent of saltwater enveloping me. I was pulled through the door, swallowed by a roar like that of a hurricane bellowing with all its might and the soulless consuming wave retreated. I fell to the ground, feeling the greedy cling of death on my feet and legs.
“It’s on me!” I screamed, my voice returning. “It’s on me!”
It was like being on fire except I couldn’t see it, I could only feel the withering, the soul sucking greed of death gnawing at me.
“I’ve got you, Bethany…”
Abruptly I was submerged in water, my body soaked, saltwater saturating me instantly. It stung and I screamed, air erupting from my mouth until there was nothing left for me to breath. I panicked again, sure I was about to drown. My hands scrambled frantically for the surface as two sparkling sapphires appeared before me. A pair of arms embraced me, one holding my arms down, the other cupping the back of my head and lips pressed against mine, air breathed into my lungs. I struggled, frightened beyond all reason but the hands wouldn’t let me go and as the dizziness passed from my eyes, the blue sparkling sapphires coalesced into eyes. They arrested me, held me firm, the strength of his arms driving away the terror.
He drew back and put his finger to my lips. I nodded, holding onto my air this time. He knelt, his hands on my legs. I wanted to start screaming again. They were withered and grey, like a mummified corpse. However, the water began to thrum and I could see my legs and feet soaking up the water, restoring them completely in a matter of seconds. The pants of my pjs were not restored below the knee, the edges ratty and torn.
Eustace smiled and held out his hands. I took them and we stood up, breaking the bubble of water. It fell away from us and I was left healed, soaked but healed.
“Eustace?” I gasped.
“Are you alright?”
I shivered. What I was shivering about, shock, cold, fear or the attempt at my body to faint, I couldn’t say. It was very possible it was a shiver of all of the above.
“No,” I whispered, “no I’m not.”
His blue eyes peered into mine. “What’s wrong?”
I sobbed. “I’m cold.” I blubbed foolishly.
He put his arms around me and soaked the wet from my body until I was dry.
“The drenching was cruel but necessary,” he whispered into my ear, “I had to cleanse your body of whatever it was that was attempting to suck the life out of you then repair the damage.”
“Thank you.” My teeth chattered. He stepped back. My stupid body was still shaking. “Where have you been? You didn’t come back…”
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I…had to rediscover myself. Not only was I suddenly a father, but I also became the Lord of the Dragons.”
“You are?” He nodded, his white spiked hair with the opalescent shine in them nodding with him. “That’s…big.”
“So big…I forgot all about ‘House of Figs’.”
“You did?”
“Yes.” He winced. “I forgot about Faelan, Bastian, Rafael, Rob and Jet, about Jo and her kindness…even you…that is until I heard your voice. I heard it. I remembered.” He lunged forward as my knees threatened to go and he held me up. “Come on, you need to go home.”
“I’m scared of what will be through the door.”
“I’ll have a look first.” Eustace helped me back to the door and propped me against the outside of the small hill the door to his world was embedded in. I watched fearfully as he opened it a crack and peered inside then opened it fully. The relief I felt at seeing the Observatory, exactly as I had left it, threatened to make me faint. I clung onto the rock, sick to my stomach at trying to keep myself upright but determined not to black out. “It seems, whatever chased you in here, is not out there.” He smiled at me, the childish Eustace a faint memory in light of his steadier, more mature state. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
I took his hand, feeling his strength and leaning upon it.
“I…I’m so glad you’re here.” I admitted. “I thought you were gone forever.”
“I admit I’ve been a bit distracted.” Eustace chuckled and looked past me towards the open sky of his world. “Are you going to come and say hello?” I turned but couldn’t see anything. “Come on now, Bethany won’t bite.”
I gazed limply, my frazzled mind unable to comprehend what or who Eustace was talking to when a head appeared, upside down from above. I gasped at it and it turned its head and made a hissing noise, a blue forked tongue flicking in and out.
“Yes, I know I look strange,” Eustace chuckled, “come on and I’ll teach you how to take this form.”
The little dragon head made some grunting noises then its body flopped into view, unwinding itself, its wingless body rippling through the air to land on Eustace’s outstretched arm, curling around it, snaking around his neck and looking at me furtively from the far side of his head.
“It’s not going to bite you again, is it?”
“That was just its way of absorbing my element which allowed it to become a water dragon.” Eustace said firmly. “Let’s get you home.”
By the time we stepped over the threshold into the Observatory, what little strength I had left dissipated. Rob had heard our voices and was already approaching us when I collapsed.
“Don’t call Faelan…please…” I begged faintly as he picked me up.
“I will respect your wishes as long as I am permitted to keep watch over you.”
I might have protested this stipulation in the past but I hadn’t the energy or the inclination to do so now. I was terrified I might be returned to that room at the base of the tower. The memory of Ah’Man standing amidst the ruins of his world, welcoming the end of his tortured, mad existence tormented my mind all night long. Rob sat beside me, his hand reaching out to reassure me that I was safe when the nightmare returned. Not long before dawn, I finally fell into a dreamless sleep.
My body was so heavy I slept like the dead and trying to rise from the deep recesses of slumber felt like trying to peel my painted body from the mattress. When I finally managed to open my eyes, a pair of blue irises gazed back at me. I should have been frightened but I was too dopey and heavy to even consider fright. The eyes blinked and then the head they were in, tilted to the side, studying me.
“Hello?” I croaked.
The child gasped, disappearing from the room, spraying my face with a light mist of water in his haste. I spluttered, the water waking me up sharply and wiped the droplets from my cheeks. I put my hands out and pushed myself upright, my legs twinging slightly. It took a few seconds of deep breathing before I could pull back the covers and see my legs and feet, unharmed and completely normal.
I let out a long, shuddering breath then jumped out of my skin as Eustace burst into the room.
“Bethany?”
I clutched at the covers around me. “Knock!”
He gulped and ducked around the door, knocking cautiously.
“Come in.”
He peeked in sheepishly. “Sorry. You seemed to be sleeping peacefully so we let you be. James must have sneaked in.” He put his hand to his head and laughed softly. “So much for being an observant parent.”
“Who’s James?”
The blue eyes peeked out from behind Eustace’s legs, white hair, shorter than Eustace’s yet somehow even more wild, framing his face.
“My son,” Eustace looked down, “well, are you going to say hello?”
The little boy shook his head, preferring to stay behind his father.
“Wait,” I crossed my legs on the bed, “he couldn’t take human form before.”
“He’s a quick study.”
“No kidding.” I leaned to catch James’ eye. “Hello?”
He blinked, holding tight to Eustace.
“We’re still working on the speech.” Eustace ruffled his son’s hair. “I think his lack of speech has more to do with being shy than being unable.” He leaned down and picked up the boy, about five years old and rested him upon his slender hip. “No need to push it. You’ll talk when you’re ready, right James?”
“James?”
“Oh, I wanted to give him a name, like Jo gave me one.” Eustace grinned, his pointed teeth showing in a bright smile. “I really only know all of your names and could hardly call him any of those…but your last name is quite pleasant.”
“You named him…after me?” I breathed.
“Yes.” Eustace nodded, unaware of the tremendous honour I felt I had been endowed with. “We’ll leave you to get dressed.” He caught James’ eye. “Let’s go water the plants!” Eustace winked at me and left the room. As they went, James peeked back at me, his curiosity overriding his shyness. I gave a stunned wave.
When I emerged from the bedroom, showered and dressed, it was early afternoon. Thankfully it was ‘House of Figs’ day off but as I descended down the stairs, I could see that everyone was there. Rafael was pacing with a cup of coffee in his hands but everyone else was huddled around the table, their voices hushed and urgent. Even Jet was there.
It was unsurprising, given how sensitive everyone’s ears were, that I was not halfway down the stairs when they all turned to look at me.
Feeling embarrassed and foolish yet still shaken from the encounter with Ah’Man, I was a little snippy.
“I told you not to bring them back.” I said sternly to Rob.
“You asked me not to summon Faelan, presumably because you are concerned about the use of his finite amount of divine light to heal you,” Rob replied without reacting to my terse greeting, “however, upon speaking with Eustace and Rafael, who came back of his own accord,” I glanced at Rafael who shrugged, “it was decided that your safety and wellbeing demanded an urgent meeting.”
I hated feeling so helpless.
I hated falling apart so easily.
Heroines in movies and games didn’t act like this.
They approached each day with a smile or with buoyant optimism no matter the trauma they endured.
I felt like such a failure.
“You can stop that this very instant.” I jolted, Rafael’s words cutting through my pity party like a rapier through clouds. His hair cast sharp shadows across his face, the red creeping halfway up the blackened locks.
“Stop what?” I demanded weakly.
“Feeling sorry for yourself,” he returned without missing a beat, “in case you didn’t realise, your presence here enables ‘House of Figs’ to operate. What happens if something befalls you? What then? What about Jo?”
“I know,” I blurted, “I know I’m responsible and that I’m screwing it all up somehow…”
“Oh for goodness sake, that’s not what I said at all!” Rafael snapped. “Bethany, you are being targeted by some kind of malevolent force that is determined to stop or harm you. That in of itself is enough to summon us here to speak about your safety.”
“It was clear that what happened to you was deeply traumatic.” Rob spoke calmly.
“And from the damage to your legs, it was also very dangerous.” Eustace said gently with James on his knee, cars clattering together on the table.
I shivered.
“It would be remiss of us not to gather together.” Faelan assured me.
“Can you speak of it, princess?” Bastian asked.
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry.” My voice was hollow.
“That bad?”
I clutched my arms around myself and looked away.
“I don’t want to cry anymore…and I know I will.” I could feel their eyes on me, my cheeks reddening. “Tears won’t change anything and I’m tired of it.”
It was deathly quiet after my statement.
“Princess,” Bastian urged gently, “do you believe that we are becoming exasperated with your tears?”
“I…it’s…”
“Messy isn’t always a bad thing.” Jet’s words were quietly spoken yet kindly offered. “We’re all messy sometimes.”
“But I am,” I muttered, “I’m messy…don’t you want to just…run away again?”
I peeked at him, cringing at what I guessed would be his usual response and preparing myself for him to flee ‘House of Figs’ and my presence as quickly as possible.
He shrugged. “I’m staying no matter how messy it or you get.”
My eyes stung and I scrunched them tight. “I’m not gonna cry. I’m not…not again.”
“If it is a matter of not wishing to cry,” Faelan’s voice was like aloe against a burn, soothing and calming, “I can assist.”
“So can I.” Eustace offered.
I looked at them. “What do you mean?”
“We can help you process the emotion by channelling it through ourselves.” Faelan explained and I opened my mouth. “Before you protest, you should know that this process will not deplete my divine light.”
I had to admit, the prospect of being able to speak without dissolving into tears was a welcome thought. I nodded, not trusting my voice. Faelan stood and indicated that I sit at the head of the table. I did so, Faelan standing to my right. Eustace stood up with James in his arms and, without asking, plonked the little boy into Jet’s lap before standing on my left. The sight of Jet, his eyes wide with terror, staring at the blue eyed boy who stared back without fear, made even my bruised heart lighten enough to giggle.
“Whenever you are ready,” Faelan said gently, “tell us what happened and we will siphon the sorrow.”
I licked my lips, my chest aching.
“I...” My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. “I heard a noise last night, like a lock turning…so I went to the lounge room and I thought I saw Eustace outside. I ran out to see whoever it was go into the Observatory…”
As I spoke, I felt Faelan’s and Eustace’s hands rest upon my shoulders. The crush of grief that was tightening my chest immediately began to lift and I felt like I could breathe. The well of sorrow I’d been drowning in was a mere puddle at my feet and I told them everything that had happened, the doors, the stairs down to the room where Ah’Man, mad from years of isolation or a damaged mind, existed in a pocket of memory. I told them what I remembered about the note he’d written to me, hidden from his mad self, instructions as well as a warning before the deathless gluttony of the words spoken finally broke through his defences and consumed his world, mind and himself.
It was such a relief not to disintegrate into tears and by the end, the weight upon my shoulders of bearing the knowledge alone and the responsibility of it all, eased considerably.
“That’s when Eustace rescued me,” I ended my narrative, “and healed my legs of whatever had been trying to devour them and suck all the life out of me.” I cleared my throat. “That’s that, really.” I raised my eyes to look at Rob, Jet, Bastian and Rafael but they were staring at Eustace and Faelan. I twisted and looked up. Faelan’s expression was pained and his cheeks were glistening with tears. I turned to Eustace, the tears from his eyes drawn from his eyes into the line of his hair, his white fronds shimmering with salty dew.
“Oh…” I breathed. “I’m sorry…”
Faelan removed his hand and swallowed. “Apologise not, Bethany…for you feel things deeply…” He touched his cheeks, studying the wetness on his fingers. “This sorrow should not be yours alone to bear.”
“I don’t have the same emotional empathy as Faelan,” Eustace confessed, “but I can see how you might lose yourself in that grief.”
“I think we could all use a hot drink and something to eat.” Bastian stood up. “Rafael?”
As they prepared food and drink, I turned to Jet who was still somewhat alarmed about having James on his lap. He was frozen as if James was a skunk or porcupine and one false move would unleash smell or pain, possibly both.
“He’s not made of glass, you know.” I chuckled at his stricken expression.
“I don’t know how to handle kids.” Jet hissed.
“James,” I held out my arms and he slid off Jet’s lap and clambered into mine, “hello. Not afraid of me anymore?” He grinned, showing off his pointed teeth then he pointed to the box of toys. “Yes, go play.” He jumped down and dug through the box. “I’d say he doesn’t bite…but we’ve already seen that’s not true.”
“You seem a lot better.” Jet remarked.
“I feel a lot better.” I nodded. “It was so nice to talk about what happened without drowning in the grief of it.”
“So, that scene that you described at the bottom of the tower…it was the same one in the books?”
“Looked like it. Thank you.” Rafael set tea in front of me and we all began to gather back to the table.
“Does that mean,” Bastian put food on the table, rolls of fresh meat, crusty cuts of bread, layers of holey cheese and lightly grilled tomato and zucchini, “this Ah’Man had something to do with the Observatory?”
“Sounds like he built it, to me.” Eustace called James and offered him some food. He beamed and ran over, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his cheeks before retreating to his toys. It was hard not to feel distracted by Eustace in his ‘fatherly’ role.
“I’m not sure about that. The Observatory looked different.” I paused. “The books were different on the shelves and as far as I’m aware, there’s no basement beneath ours.”
“There isn’t, is there?” Rafael looked at Rob.
“I can detect no underground chamber beneath the Observatory.” Rob confirmed. “Query, you looked through the doors of the tower you were in?”
“I did.”
“Query, were the views the same?”
“Um…no.” I frowned. “Actually, they weren’t. I mean, they looked similar…but Faelan’s door didn’t open into ruins but onto a forest scene which looked a lot like Ilanard.”
Faelan nodded. He was very quiet. I was concerned he’d absorbed too much of my emotional state.
“Query, did my door show Infinitus?”
“I didn’t see enough of it to know for certain,” I paused, “but the door opened in a tall tower, not in the back of a storage container.”
“If you ask me,” Bastian spun his chair around and straddled it, “it sounds more like our worlds are replicated from the views you took in.” We all looked at him. “What? The best inspiration for books comes from personal experience, at least that is what Jo expressed. Our stories had to be based on something…why not the views from this guy’s tower?”
We all thought about this for a long moment.
“So, what you’re saying is…Ah’Man wrote the books?” Jet asked.
“I don’t think he did.” I shook my head. “He talked about the incantation, that was meant to be a type of ‘creation’ spell that came out the complete opposite, being stolen and then spoken.”
“And in that moment he saw a vision of the future…and preserved a message for you inside a memory pocket?” Rafael shook his head. “That seems farfetched.”
“Not to elves,” Faelan expressed softly, “within a memory, emotion can be just as strong as when it was first felt.”
“Gary said something similar,” I nodded then looked at Jet, “about memories taking us back to times and places we thought we’d outgrown…or something like that.”
“So that means Ah’Man didn’t write the books…and he probably didn’t build the Observatory if he was just a memory…” Bastian rubbed his hands down his face. “Did we learn anything new from this encounter?”
“We learned that something or someone is targeting Bethany in particular,” Rob surmised, “and that Ah’Man saw her when his world ended which leads us to believe that there is a possible threat against this world, tied in with the fifth haiku.”
“Aunt Jo did say something about my saving the world.” I murmured.
“Ah’Man’s message also told you that the fifth haiku was important to Jo’s recovery.” Jet recited.
“The keys of life and death in your hands.” Rafael looked at his coffee and the world in the café fell silent and grim.
“Yeah,” I huffed and tried to smile, “no pressure, right?”
I sipped at my tea, feeling like every sound I made, every clink of the cup or swallow was the focus of everyone’s attention.
“It kind of makes finding the fifth haiku a double edged sword,” I looked at Rafael who felt my look and caught my eye, “you’ve got the balance risk of this world turning out like Ah’Man’s with the possibility of restoring Jo. One person’s life versus the whole world.”
“What are you saying?” I demanded softly. “That Aunt Jo isn’t worth the risk?”
“Vampires, cold as ice.” Bastian muttered.
“Even I, as an emotionless machine, cannot separate the two outcomes so readily.”
“Before you condemn me as heartless, ask yourself this,” Rafael stood up, “would Jo want us to risk this world for her sake?”
His words caused us all to pause and consider what he’d said.
“It grieves me to say this,” Faelan said softly, “but Rafael is right. Jo would never ask us to do so.”
“But she did plant the haikus,” I swallowed, “she wanted me to find them. What’s that about?”
“Maybe she didn’t know her life would be tied into them?”
“Maybe Ah’Man was mad and talked a lot of rubbish?”
I recalled his sad stance at the very end, not even fighting the tide of deathless gluttony that consumed the life from his world. I could see his face, pained with grief and guilt and knew he would not lead me down the same path as he.
“No…I think he knew what he was saying…and wanted to warn me what might happen.”
Rob tilted his head, his eyes studying me.
“Query, what do you want to do, Bethany St James?”
I stood up and turned around on the spot, taking in the sight of ‘House of Figs’, the books on the shelves, the homey atmosphere, the coffee station, the counter with Faelan’s desserts displays and the shade from the fig tree out the front dancing across the floor. Then I turned back to the table and looked at the softly spoken elf, the charismatic werewolf, the moody vampire, the enthusiastic water dragon, the loyal and steadfast robot and my forgotten childhood friend.
“I’m not prepared to give up on Aunt Jo or ‘House of Figs’.” I announced firmly. “This is my home as well a safe place for all of you. Maybe Aunt Jo wouldn’t ask me to risk the world for her life…but that’s now my decision…and I suppose the first step in doing so is tackling my appointment with the judge. If…if I can convince him to rule in my favour…we’ll revisit the fifth haiku dilemma. Until then…we carry on.”
“Bravo.”
“I concur.”
“Good stuff.”
“I have a condition.” We all looked at Rafael.
I folded my arms. “What?”
His icy eyes held mine. “You are not to be left alone.”
“I’m not a baby!”
“But you are being targeted,” he argued, “I’m not talking about you needing a bodyguard, but you aren’t to go out without one of us with you and I want your door guarded at night.”
I opened my mouth to protest but the guys made a big deal out of agreeing with the vampire.
“He’s got a point, Bethany.” Eustace bumped my elbow. “After all, if something happens to you, Kendra will get the café by default. It would spell the end of ‘House of Figs’ as we know it, even of the doors to this world.”
This line, above all over arguments, was the one to convince me.
It was hard to comprehend that my life had come to mean so much…but I was determined, for the first time in weeks, not to let them down.