Chapter Ten
“This is your home?” I study the map a little more closely.
Al nods. “At least part of it. There are a few more buildings than this, including my parents' house, but this is more or less home.”
“How new is your parent’s house?” Al and I both turn to give Cindy a confused look and she continues. “Was it built within, say, the last thirty or so years?”
He considers her question before saying, “They built it before I was born, twenty years ago I guess.”
Cindy nods. “The date on this journal is well over thirty years ago. Things change. They definitely have here.”
“So what are you saying?” I try to touch one of the buildings, but when my finger goes through, I pull back. “Gran was in this other world thirty some years ago and happened to draw this map?”
“Probably. Maybe she was there a few times since.” Cindy seems a little too pleased by the idea. “You know how she used to get out of touch for weeks at a time. She probably says in her journals, but it’ll take some time to read them.”
“Great. So your amazing plan is to read Gran’s journals until you find a spot where she happens to mention her magical secret to jumping between worlds?” I pull a face to show just what I think of such a plan, or lack thereof.
Cindy smiles at me. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Can’t you do some sort of spell to move things along faster?” I pick up one of the books and wave it in her face to force her to pay more attention to me. “If Al’s right, it’s only a matter of time before Stewart and Borin come for us.”
She swats the thing away and glares. “I’m not a sorceress, Lou. I don’t have magic coming out of my ass. I happen to know a few spells, and they’re simple perception tricks.”
“So, no to using magic.”
She yanks the book from my hand and stuffs it under her arm before heading toward the door. “I think I remember Gran keeping her more recent journals upstairs. I’ll be there, being useful. Why don’t you try doing the same?”
I glare at the door for several seconds after she’s gone. Once I can no longer hear her footsteps, I turn away.
“I can’t wait until this is over,” I grumble. “I’ll never have to talk to her again.”
I realize what I’ve said and turn to Al with an apologetic smile. He’d probably give anything to argue with his sister. He runs his fingers through his hair as though he’s attempting to brush away some feeling of remorse, and then half-smiles up at me.
“You two normally don’t talk much?” He’s careful to sound as though what I said doesn’t bother him, but I can tell it does.
“I’m sorry, about your sister.” I want to touch him, or pat his shoulder. But when I start to move my finger toward him, I realized what a dangerous idea that is and drop my hand. “I don’t know if I said as much already.”
He shrugs my words away and turns as though to study the map a bit more closely.
“We weren’t close either,” he says unexpectedly. “I hardly knew her; I spent most of my life...elsewhere.”
Since he’s obviously uncomfortable talking directly to me, I start rummaging through Gran’s stuff, and pretend I’m not interested in what he’s saying. “What do you mean? You didn’t grow up at home?”
“I went to this place, where they sort of trained boys like me.”
“Like a boarding school? Really?” I get a little too excited as an image of Al dressed in a tiny school uniform pops into my head. Adorable. I clear my throat and force myself to calm down. “Was it all boys there, like in books and stuff?”
He looks at me for a moment and appears to be about to say something before he stops himself. When he does speak, it sounds like a half-truth, though I have no idea what he’s hiding. “It was only boys, yes.”
“Mom used to threaten to send Cindy off to one.” Maybe if I talk a bit more about my family he’ll feel more comfortable saying more. “I always wished I could go.”
He seems genuinely interested when he asks, “You wanted to leave home?”
Now it’s my turn to pretend to be busy in order to avoid looking at him directly. I don’t usually talk about my family. Not even my friends know about Mom’s threat and my wish to get away. “I don’t know. I guess. With Cindy and Mom always fighting, it was up to me to be the good little daughter.” Reliving the fights and bickering again is not something I’m interested in doing. Instead, I remember the early morning practices and all day shopping trips to find the perfect, preppy outfits. “I would help with all the cleaning and I would join the ballet lessons and do everything a normal girl would do, because Mom wanted it so. She was so afraid of becoming like Gran.”
He gives me a curious look I see out of the corner of my eye. “What was wrong with your grandmother?”
My mom and sister fighting is one thing. There’s no way I can talk about Gran to a total stranger. Who knows how he’ll react, and I can’t help but care what he thinks about me. Still, there’s something comforting about him, as though he actually wants to know, and not just so he has something to laugh at and judge me for later.
“Not exactly all there,” I say against my better judgment. “Never mind the magic, I never knew about that, but there was all this other stuff. Such as why would anyone fold old chocolate bar wrappers and place them into a drawer underneath a pile of papers?” I pull out a wrapper and hold it up for him to see while touching it with as little of the skin on my fingers as possible.
He grins. “Fair enough. But I’m sure there are worse things people have kept in their drawers.”
Something about his reaction sends warmth through me and spurs me on.
“Oh, but it’s not only things like the wrappers. Gran would have rituals for everything. If we wanted canned peas for supper, we’d have to spin around three times and spit in a bucket set aside in the kitchen specifically for the occasion. Every time we used the toilet? Click your heels once and pull your ear.” I demonstrate the ear tug with a mocking smile before giving him a desperate look. “Have you ever heard of any of those rituals before? Please tell me it’s some sort of spell to ward off demons, because I would feel so much better about everything if it is.”
His laugh isn’t cruel like when some of the kids in my class found out about Gran’s rituals. In fact it was infectious. For the first time ever, I actually find myself laughing about the whole thing. Mom always worried about what people might think, and after my so-called friends’ reactions, I did too. I never thought about laughing.
“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of those spells,” he admits.
“And I’m not going to get into the whole toenails in a bag.”
I continue laughing until I notice Al’s become silent. He stares at my purse as though it contains the answer to a puzzling question. I follow his gaze to the bag thrown onto the chair when we first came into the room, though I know it’s the blue bag inside he’s actually thinking about. “A container used to trap a sorceresses power,” Al thinks aloud. “I’ve never heard of it being done before.”
It’s obvious he wants a closer look, though he’s too polite to ask. I’d usually be too embarrassed to even think about showing someone a pouch of my old disgusting toenails, but I can’t help being curious too. Besides, the same urge to touch it I’d felt in the barn is back, and this time it’s too strong to resist.
My arm reaches out and, before I know what I’m doing, I have the blue bag in my hand.
“You said they’ll never stop chasing us,” I say with my attention on the bag. “We’ll never be safe. Not really.”
He doesn’t answer at first. “I suppose.”
“There’s been a lot of magic thrown around me in the past few hours. Powerful stuff. While Cindy’s completely outmatched, at least she’s able to fight. She got rid of the creature after all.”
From his hesitation, it’s obvious he knows where my line of thinking is headed and he doesn’t approve. “Maybe, but it’s not like yo
u’re helpless. I’ve never seen anyone fight a chimera like you did.”
“And I still lost.” My fingers find the ends of the string binding the bag shut. I tug so gently I’m not at all surprised nothing happens.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Al says. “Remember what your sister said.”
I can’t take my eyes off the bag and the urge to open it is so strong I can’t think of anything else. Cindy’s warning is in my mind somewhere, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the pouch.
“All of these books, this house, will any of it help? Even if we find a way to get you back, Gran was a sorceress. She could do things none of us can.”
“Magic might not be the solution.”
“Maybe not this time,” I admit. “But without it, I’ll never have a chance of defending my family from Stewart or wizards like him. It was luck we got out of the barn. With magic, we’d be on equal fighting ground.”
I test the binding again, this time yanking at the knot much harder. Nothing. It doesn’t budge. I need to cut it open. A search of the table uncovers old silver scissors stuffed into a container full of pens and pencils. Even though the scissors seem sharp and open easily, no matter what I do, they won’t cut the string. I try cutting the bag itself. Again, nothing.
“But it can’t be. What if I...” I use the scissors to cut a small hole into the bottom of my shirt, no problem. “So why won’t the bag cut?”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Al says.
“Your sword.” I’m almost ashamed at how obvious the solution is. “You said it would cut through anything.”
I hold out my hand to him, but he makes no move to pass me the tiny blade.
“Please?”
When I realize he’s still not going to give it to me, I lean over the desk and bring myself face to face with him. From this close, I can see how worried he looks. It doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t he be happy? He must not understand.
“If it works, then I’ll have the power to send you back home,” I say.
“Lou.” He shakes his head in refusal. “Don’t do this.”
Hearing him say my name with so much sympathy and worry, it makes me need to help him that much more.
“Please,” I say again.
His hand slips around the hilt as though he’s about to draw the sword, but he stops before actually pulling it free. The need to open the bag is so strong his hesitation has me almost in tears.
“Please.”
A single nod. No words. He draws out the sword and carefully sets it onto my index finger. It’s almost impossible to hold without touching the blade and I end up cutting myself on its edge. Once I have it held between my fingernails, I slice it against the side of the bag. The blade cuts through the fabric easier than I expect and I end up making a hole much bigger than I intend. The contents of the bag spill out around me. While I scramble to keep everything inside, I drop the whole lot.
I groan. “I’m not cleaning that up.”
“Any change?” Al asks.
I think about it for a minute and shake my head.
“I don’t feel any different.”
But as soon as I say the words I look at Al and I realize how wrong I am. He’s there, same as before, but there’s a strange net surrounding him he doesn’t seem to notice. Every move he makes, the net moves with him, pressing against his skin. But it isn’t made of string or rope or anything I’ve ever seen before. I lean in until my nose is almost touching him to get a better view of him.
“What is that?” I ask.
He looks down at himself and nervously brushes nonexistent dust from himself before returning his focus to me. “Um... my clothes?”
He shifts nervously, but he doesn’t step back, though I can only imagine how intimidating I must be right now. I’m glad he doesn’t move, and not just so I can see him better. There’s also something about being so close to him that causes my skin to tingle in the best way.
I ignore the feeling and concentrate on the stuff surrounding him.
“No, it’s all around you. Can’t you feel it? Some sort of pattern of light and dust and shadow and I don’t know what, and it’s pressing down on your skin, like it’s trying to...” I take in a frightened breath when I realize exactly what it’s doing. “Like it’s going to crush you.
“What?” There’s a panic to his voice I’d only heard once before; when Cindy forced him inside the lipstick container.
His fear justifies my own alarm. “I have to stop it.”
“Please do.”
I point his sword at him and say, “Don’t move.”
He doesn’t, not even to agree with me. Probably he’s too afraid to speak. I know I can’t say anything encouraging like ‘I promise not to kill you,’ because any distraction and the sword I have pressed against the magic web might slip. If the blade can cut anything, it could easily kill Al. I drag it down, careful to slice only the web and not his skin. I hope.
Once enough of it is cut, the net gives away and falls from him. I laugh in triumph as the stuff curls away from his body, shrinks into itself and disappears.
But then something odd happens.
No longer is my nose almost touching a tiny person, but smashed against something solid and warm and smelling a whole lot like dirt and leather.
I take a small step away from the table with my hand rubbing my face and peek to see what hit me. Some new spell, perhaps? Or let me guess, with my luck, it’s probably another chimera.
Or a full grown man.
I take another step back as he climbs down off the desk to stand in the space between it and me. Since I’d moved back such a small amount, he hardly has any room, leaving him pressed up against me. The tingling I’d felt before has intensified until my skin seems to be pulsing in reaction to him.
My breath catches as his fingers briefly brush against the hair on my shoulder until he seems to think better and lets his hand drop.
“Lou?” a familiar voice says when after several moments I still haven’t moved.
Familiar, but completely different. Like talking to someone in person for the first time after only speaking to them over the phone. It’s the same, but somehow this feels so much more real.
And having his full sized body practically pressed up against me makes it that much more intense. My hand moves to touch him to see if he’s as solid as he looks.
Cindy’s voice calls while thumping down the stairs, “Hey, I thought I heard...”
She stops at the door and I shove myself away from the man in front of me. I stare at Cindy as her face shifts from anger to confusion to surprise and then all the way back to anger again. She, on the other hand, isn’t looking at me at all. Instead she’s staring at the man who now has his back to me.
She opens her mouth a couple of times to speak, and when she finally does say something, it’s only one word.
“Al?”