Chapter 8
An Elk in Valley Heights
For Tristan Green, the best part of school was leaving it. He had come to enjoy the drive home primarily because it had come to represent freedom from the nettlesome kids he had the misfortune of teaching.
When he and Heath had first moved to this world, they’d both had a tough time adjusting. There were just so many… humans here! Technology, had seemingly allowed them to breed and multiply as nature had never intended.
Dishearteningly, Tristan’s quest for the elusive presence had yielded nothing for tens of centuries. In fact, he and Heath had considered giving up the search on more than one occasion. That is, until they had stumbled upon John Atkins Elementary. But they’d found the density of humans at this establishment to be immense and had figured that, if they were going to keep investigating the school, they would need a cover. Tristan had naturally gravitated toward the job of teacher, given his previous life training at the Kahnomstraahm.
At first, he had actually enjoyed nurturing the minds of the children and helping them reach their full potential. It was, after all, what he’d been doing in the High Realm for centuries before he left. However, with every passing year, the human students grew progressively dumber, and their priorities shifted in directions opposite to everything he believed in.
Then, just under a year ago, Tristan had sensed the presence shifting—moving away from the institute. So, at the end of the school year, he had taken three months off to re-establish the link and had, funnily enough, ended up at John Atkins High—his school’s sister concern. He had immediately applied for a transfer and had been accepted almost instantaneously (which, in hindsight, should have been the first red flag, really). A few months into the new school year, though, the trail had gone cold once more.
But this morning, upon entering school grounds, he was sure that he’d sensed something out of the ordinary. Although it had a slightly different energy signature to what he sought, he wondered if this could still be the same presence in a new form.
So, he had stayed late to investigate under the guise of marking papers, hoping that whatever it was that he’d sensed in the morning remained put. And, luckily, it had!
But rounds of the school’s campus had revealed little more than a handful of students either engaged in after-school activities or sitting in detention with Mrs. Applebottom. The presence seemed to be everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time.
He’d been wandering around, perplexed by it all, when Mrs. Applebottom, who had grown increasingly miffed upon seeing him make more rounds than were absolutely necessary, had taken him aside to have a few words. Tristan was aware that the students referred to her as Grouchina, and, following her ‘little chat’ with him, now knew exactly why as well.
Confused and annoyed, he had returned to the staff room, tail between legs, and had actually ended up marking papers. The amount of red ink he’d ended up laying down over the remainder of the afternoon had depressed him, and only now, sat at the wheel of his ride did he feel any better.
Tristan had left the details of the vehicle to Heath, who had presented him with a mixed bag.
The pastel blue luxury sedan was based on a model from almost a decade ago. And though Tristan was old-fashioned in a number of ways, this was not one of them. He had asked for a newer one immediately, but Heath was quick to remind him that he was, at the end of the day, on a school teacher’s salary, and the whole affair had to look believable. The last thing they wanted was for people to notice that Mr. Green, the new teacher at John Atkins High, who seemed to not have aged a single day since he’d started teaching almost a decade ago, also drove a brand-spanking new Jaguar.
In the end, though, Heath had taken pity on the man and given him a modern interior at least. Tristan had been very grateful and, in time, had come to appreciate the sweptback styling of the model as well.
He now sat back and relaxed, letting the car maneuver the roads without need for his input, admiring the plush leather seats and the sleek metal trim, and listening to the soothing sounds of the purring engine rise and fall.
The only downside of the Jaguar, it had turned out, was the ‘special care’ it required, especially overnight. Every evening, as he pulled into the parking lot of his building complex, Tristan would have to park in a discrete corner, far away from the building and street lights, in shadows where no one could see, so that Heath could skulk around and do what needed to be done once the cover of night descended.
As he parked in his usual spot and started toward his apartment block, a peculiar feeling made him look straight up. It had a whiff of the familiar about it, but, try as he might, Tristan couldn’t place it exactly. Whatever it was, he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
The building stood juxtaposed against the few clouds and stars scattered in the fading evening sky. But neither the clouds nor the stars were the problem.
He looked to his own story. His apartment faced the other side of the building, so he could not see, but he could also not sense anything out of the ordinary with it.
Turning his gaze lower still, he saw the sign above the main entrance which read ‘VALLEY HEIGHTS III’, and could neither sense nor see anything wrong there. And yet the feeling persisted.
Apprehensively, he entered the foyer.
And, immediately, he stopped.
The reason for his premonition stood right in the middle of the entrance hall, grazing on what little remained of the agave, palms, ferns, and daisies, all of which had been very much intact when he’d left for school that morning.
It was an eastern elk.
And when she spotted him, she started to hop up and down with her two front legs, grunting salutations his way.
He almost didn’t recognize her without the bulky armor he’d grown accustomed to seeing her in, but there was no mistaking the manner in which she now hopped around.
“Muuki,” said Tristan, nodding briskly at the elk and raising a hand in a feeble wave. He sighed heavily, as he now had some inkling of what presence awaited him in his apartment, though he was more than a little concerned about why he hadn’t caught it earlier, back in the parking lot.
He was pleased to see that at least Muuki had stopped her incessant jumping and was now snorting back at him cheerfully. Well, as cheerfully as an elk could snort, anyway.