Delphi, Eganene
Philadelphia’s storm was a blizzard in Eganene, with drifts halfway to his knee and sharp, cutting snowflakes that stung his face. The wind moaned through the broken buildings, trying to blow him over while Elisabeth leaned into the storm, shouldering his weight. He could feel her warmth through her pajamas. She followed his signals, her hair whipping at his eyes as they trudged block after empty block.
Elisabeth was a surprise. His encounters with women on Earth had led him to believe that most were simpering idiots or coddled children who spent their time looking for things to purchase. His strength vaporized by Milly’s spell, he wasn’t sure what to do without the girl. And what he’d do with her.
His first instinct had been to get rid of her.
That was what he should have done, protocol was specific, but she saved his life and that complicated matters, if only a little. Obviously, she wasn’t Eganese, but she also wasn’t the girl his spell was meant to bring across. Milly must have done something wrong, Traveled Elisabeth instead of the Radcliff witch. And not just her, her brother, too.
If he didn’t kill her, Peter would need to bring her to his Manager. Unfortunately, that meant he’d have to admit what he did.
The wind burned his ears, his face and neck growing colder. Peter leaned into Elisabeth’s side and she made the turn, following his direction. It would be easier to kill her, he thought, if she wasn’t so helpful. She had no majic. He’d checked.
He smiled, but the frigid air made his teeth ache and he bent his head down again. They followed Market Street towards Old City, down the thoroughfare of winds. The girl said not a word. She was deep in thought or too intent on keeping them upright. Either way, she was silent and that was good.
By the time she led them down 2nd street, his nose and ears were numb. Stopping in front of his two-story home, he checked for signs of entry. Elisabeth was looking at him anxiously, eager to be out of the cold.
“Well, are we going inside?” she asked, hopping up and down as she tried to dislodge the snow from her toes.
Nodding, he pointed at the door.
Still shouldering his weight, she used her free hand to open the gate and help him onto the porch. The girl’s foot struck one of the flower pots, it shattered on the lawn, the dirt and snow mingling.
Peter shrugged and shifted off her shoulder. His gold rings felt like ice nuggets, his key ring jingling as if he were the Snow Father. He found the one he wanted and motioned for the girl to enter first. Stepping behind her, he followed her cover into the house. “Stay here a moment,” he told her as he locked the door, “I need to check the house.”
He moved slowly through both floors, his muscles protesting the effort. Eventually, he reemerged in the entry hallway and lit a candle. The girl was leaning on the door, arms crossed. She blinked as the light flared, her blues eyes tracking. “Feeling better?”
He grunted, “Thank you for helping me.”
“You don’t have electricity?”
“No, you can’t rely on it here. It’s better to use candles.” Motioning for her to follow, he headed upstairs.
Her footsteps were silent on the carpet and he had to look back to confirm her presence.
“I found this,” she offered.
He turned, seeing that she had a lighter in hand.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked. The girl was barefoot in pajamas. He hadn’t expected her to have anything on her.
She shrugged, making the zippo flame. “It was in the snow, right outside the building. I picked it up when we left.”
“Nice find,” Peter said, entering the room. He gestured to the table and the girl lit three of the candles. He watched as each flame doubled and tripled in his mirror.
Peter locked the bedroom door, pleased everything was in good order. The tabletops were desperate need of a dusting, but his bed was made and the floor clear of clutter.
The girl was sitting on the floor, rubbing her feet with her hands. “This house is freezing,” she muttered.
He pulled a towel out of the closet and handed it to her.
“Thanks. I still can’t feel them.”
He checked the mirror. The spell had taken a lot out of him. His cheeks were pale and the skin beneath his eyes was dark and swollen. Turning away from his reflection, he went to the window and peeled back the curtain. There was no one to see, although without streetlights it was impossible to be certain.
He knew they would be followed. It was only a matter of time. Milly’s spell had notified everyone within a few hundred miles, both here and on Earth. Peter needed to buy some time. If his Brothers were close and could see his trail, it might only be hours before they found him.
Once they did, he would need to explain himself. Without the Radcliff girl, he had little justification for his action.
Peter wondered who would come. If it was the Sniveler and the Hand, they would take advantage of the situation and try to take Elisabeth for themselves. He needed to put distance between himself and Delphi.
If he moved quickly enough, the trail would dissipate. In a week or two, he could determine a response. Then, if he had to, he could take Elisabeth to his Manager.
“You have a bathroom?”
“Sure,” he said pointing across the room. “Right through there.”
While she did her business, Peter checked his gun. It was his prize possession, a P-O8 German Luger in perfect condition. Its accuracy was close to flawless and while he’d never admit it, the gun’s gilded grip made him love it all the more. Quickly, he disassembled and reassembled it, loading a round into the chamber.
He looked at the door, curious what Elisabeth would do once she saw the weapon. Deciding this wasn’t the time, he put his gun on the dresser and concealed it with his jacket. The girl would need something dry to wear, so Peter pulled out some options and threw them on the bed. They wouldn’t fit right, but that was her problem.
Stripping off his shirt, he glared at the cloth. After all the smoke and sweat, it probably wasn’t salvageable. He folded it anyway and set it on the bed, shivering. Using real heat here had an enormous cost, so he left it just high enough to prevent the pipes from freezing.
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“Oh, I…” she sputtered, exiting the bathroom. “I didn’t mean…”
“It’s all right,” Peter said lightly, grabbing a dry shirt from the pile. Slipping it over his chest, he motioned at the clothes, “I don’t think I’ve got much to fit you, but you’re welcome to look.”
Elisabeth searched through the selection, keeping her red face down and her eyes lowered. Peter took pity on her and finished changing in the bathroom.
When he emerged, he found her holding her wet pajamas. She was brushing the fabric with her fingers, wearing a look of confusion.
“This feel wrong,” she said, looking up at him.
He noticed that her eyes were very blue.
Might as well tell her, he thought. “Look, Elizabeth…”
“When you were unconscious,” she interrupted him, “just before the fire. I tried to wake you up and you grabbed me. I tried to move, but you wouldn’t let me go.” Shaking her head, she said, “you started talking and then you…”
“What did I say?”
“Nonsense, something about someone named Milly and…”
Peter felt his face twist, “What about Milly?”
The girl stood her ground and continued, “Nothing. You weren’t making any sense. You were just babbling…”
Surprised, Peter took a step, “What did I say?”
He could see the girl’s indecision. She wanted to draw away from him, but she had thus far refused to take a step. “I…,” she started, pushing her chin out to gain height, “you…”
Peter tried to smile reassuringly, “You can tell me.”
“Yes, I…”
“And then what happened?”
The girl began to look flustered again, some of the determination fading from her eyes. “Well, you started…I…” she tried.
Peter watched her fingers bunch into fists at her sides. “You what?” he asked again softly, taking a step towards her. He was close enough to have touched her face.
“I, well I...,” she tried again.
“Hmm?” he asked gently.
Finishing quickly, she blurted, “Your curtains caught fire. I dragged you out.” Looking relieved, she broke eye contact and began searching through the clothing.
“That’s it?” he asked, touching her wet shoulder and turning her towards him.
She looked at him and lied flawlessly, “That’s it.”
Peter dropped his hand. It would have taken a liar to see the lie and he was impressed despite himself. Irrespective of what he’d said or done while he was unconscious, the girl had some raw talent where lying was concerned. She might be useful, after all.
Dragging him out of his room and helping him here showed loyalty and resourcefulness. Why kill her now?
He shrugged. It was hard to find good help these days, especially in his line of work. She had potential. He had drawn her across and while he wasn’t sure how, things didn’t often happen to him by accident. Perhaps she had some connection to the witch.
“Where’s your phone?” Elisabeth asked, her wet hair dripping onto his clothes.
The tails of his dress shirt hung over a pair of his pants. Peter tried not to laugh. The rolled-up cuffs and doubled waistband looked ridiculous. She looked like a life-sized doll dressed in the wrong clothing.
“They don’t fit so well, do they?” he asked her.
Smoothing non-existent wrinkles, she looked up at him. He knew she was seeing. They were dressed identically, everything the same except for her bare feet. Peter found a pair of black socks and tossed them to her, “We look like twins, don’t we?”
Her smile fell. “My brother, Jamie, is my twin. I should use your phone and see if the police have picked him up.”
“Look,” Peter said, trying not to be annoyed, “there are some things you’re going to have to understand.” He sat on the bed and motioned her to sit next to him.
She didn’t move, “Peter, I’ve got to see if my brother is OK. I need your phone.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“You’re kidding me right? I know you’ve got no heat or electric in this place, but a phone? Everyone’s got a phone. What about your cell? You said this was your friend’s place, right? That we could call for help from here. Does she have a cell?”
Peter scowled. He had forgotten that he’d told her that. “It wouldn’t work here, anyway.” He could tell she was exasperated, but he needed to take her through this slowly.
“You’re trying to tell me that you don’t get reception in Old City? Everyone who lives here probably has two cell phones. I’ve used a cell from here and I’ve lived in this city for less than a month.”
“Elisabeth…”
“Don’t Elisabeth me,” she interrupted, pushing her hair back from her face. “I’ve had about that weirdest night of my life. Jamie and I wake up in the hallway, that old lady disappears with my brother, and then I…”
“What old lady?” Peter asked, his pulse quickening.
“That’s not important, I need…”
“Tell me,” he said, standing up. “What old lady?”
“Peter, we’ve got to…”
“No. You’re going to sit down and tell me about the old lady and then I will explain....”
Surprised, he almost didn’t move in time. She didn’t hesitate, but used her curled fist to throw a punch at where his face had been.
He pushed her on the bed and used his arms to pin her hands. “Whoa, now! Easy.” Using his weight to hold down her legs, he shushed her, “Calm down!”
She struggled violently, her teeth clenched, her body heaving as she tried to throw him.
Impressed again by her strength, he applied more pressure. “Look, Elisabeth, I’m not going to hurt you!”
She fought, trying to rip her arms free and pull her legs out from under him. He had a hundred pounds on her, but his arms shook with the effort of keeping her pinned.
She screamed at him when she was done.
He looked at her calmly, “Elisabeth, I told you that I wouldn’t hurt you. I need to explain some things.” Repositioning himself so that he was more comfortable, he said, “That fact is, we’re not in Philly.”
“You’re nuts, Mr. You must’ve hit your head when…”
He shook her gently, “I’m not nuts. Think about it. Did you see any other people on the road tonight? Any cars?”
He could see her considering. She had kept her head down against the wind, but she must have noticed the lack of people.
“It’s a storm. They’re probably just inside,” she countered.
“How about parked cars, Elisabeth? Did you see any of them?” He waited for her to respond.
Slowly, the wildness receded from her eyes and her breathing calmed. Softly, she said, “I didn’t see any.”
Shaking his head slowly, he let her arms go. He kept his body tense, ready if she tried to strike him, but he didn’t think she would. She was smart enough.
After several moments she said, “I won’t try to hit you.”
“All right,” he agreed, moving to sit beside her.
She pushed herself up and looked at him, suddenly child-like.
“It’s like this,” he started, “where you come from and this place, they’re real similar, OK? Most of the buildings you know are here. It looks the same a lot of the time. But we’re not in Philly. This place is Eganene.”
She echoed him softly, learning a new word, “Eganene.”
Nodding, he continued, “I’m not sure why you’re here.” True enough, though he knew how she came. “There are people here that will hurt you. You walk outside alone and chances are you won’t make it back.”
She said nothing, just watched him, her fear dissipating. Now, her calm, blue eyes appraised him.
“If your brother’s still alive…”
“He is,” she interrupted.
Peter continued as though she hadn’t spoken, “…we’ll find him, but I need you to understand that if he escaped the fire and he’s alone, he’s probably dead.”
After a moment, she said, “He isn’t alone.”
“Right, you said he is with an old woman.”
The girl pulled her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around them, “The old lady said she would help us back into the apartment.”
“But she didn’t?” Peter prompted.
“Well, she would have, I think. But first we had to…” Elisabeth’s voice cut off as Peter threw his hand in their air.
He placing a finger over his lips and backed towards the dresser to find his gun. He saw her eyes widen, but to her credit, she didn’t speak. He motioned for her to come closer.
He whispered, “These are some of the people who want to hurt you. Understand?” She nodded and he continued, “They’re inside, I heard the door bolt snap.” Glancing at her face, Peter was please to find her alert, but calm. “You wanted to hit someone before. You still want that chance?”
Her eyes were haunted, but she shook her head with firm resolution.
“Good.” Reaching under the dresser, he pulled out a blunt piece of wood.
As he handed it to her, she said quietly, “A baseball bat?”
“Best I can do right now.” His eyes were trained on the door.
“Give me your gun. You take the bat.”
Peter laughed silently. “In your dreams. Now get behind the door and we’ll give our company something they didn’t expect.”
Without comment, she walked swiftly and quietly to where he was pointing. With her back to the wall, she would be hidden when they entered the room. Peter blew out the candles and crouched beside the dresser. He would have a great line on his visitors and they’d be hard pressed to hit him.
As they waited, Peter marveled at the girl’s resolve. In the low light from the window, he could see her outline. She didn’t move, hardly even seemed to breathe. If she lives through this, he thought, I might not kill her after all.
Suddenly, the girl’s chin snapped up. She must have heard them on the stairs.
Motioning her to stay where she was, he drew himself completely behind the dresser. Seconds later, he heard the doorknob turn slowly, the interior bolts clicking in the quiet. Peter aimed his semi-automatic and took a calming breath.