Lark, page 6
Oh, thank God.
It's Grey. He will be able to call for help.
He gets out of his truck, running over to where I am sitting in the snow next to Brian.
“Are you okay? What happened?” he nearly shouts.
“I lost control of the car and we hit the telephone pole. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt. I have been trying to stop the bleeding and haven't had a chance to call 911 yet, so can you please do that?”
I stumble through the words so fast they all kind of run together. He just stands there, his mouth hanging open in shock. Can't he see that Brian is bleeding to death? I don't care how creepy a guy is, you don't just stand there doing nothing when he is hurt.
“Greyson! Call 911!” I yell at him, confused as to why he’s not immediately jumping to action.
“This isn't good. Why did you have to pick him up? I told you not to.” He doesn't yell, in fact he practically whispers the words, but there’s a nervous edge in his voice. I’m dumbfounded that he’s being such a jerk when Brian could be dying.
“Greyson! Seriously! I can't believe you are acting like this. It’s freezing outside! I wasn't going to make him walk in a freaking blizzard! He is seriously hurt which is why I need you to stop being a dick and call 911. We need help!”
“No, Mia. That's not what I mean. Look.” He points at Brian. “Look at him.”
My stomach drops as I fear the worst, thinking it’s too late. I slowly look down at him. But his eyes are open and he isn't bleeding any more. Like, not bleeding at all. In fact he looks perfectly normal, not one scratch on him. Surely that isn't possible? But it is. Even the gash on his forehead, that mere moments before had been gushing blood, is now a fully healed, faded pink scar. Brian is staring up at me in awe.
“So it's true,” he whispers. He sits straight up and looks himself over. He looks back at me again and then, with a laugh, he stands up and disappears.
What the hell?
“Shit!” I hear Grey mumble from behind me.
“Grey, did you see that? He disappeared. He literally just vanished!” I’m freaking out as I look to Grey for some reassurance that I have not completely lost my mind. But he is obviously freaking out as well, pacing back and forth, mumbling under his breath.
I don't think we are quite freaking out over the same thing.
“One of Dugan's? Impossible. But how else? How did he know? This is not good.” He continues to pace as he runs his hand through his hair, looking incredibly shaken up while he talks to himself.
“I knew there was something off about him. I'm such an idiot! I should've known.”
“Grey. Who is Dugan? I don't understand what is going on here.”
He acts like he can't hear me or something, “Greyson! Why aren't you answering me? I'm freaking out over here!”
He stops pacing and stares at me for a quick second before rushing over and grabbing my hand.
“Mia, we have got to get out of here. It isn't safe. I'll explain everything, I promise, but right now, I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
I nod weakly. He tightens his grip on my hand and the next thing I know, the world spins, blurring my vision as though we are in a bright mini-tornado of Grey’s own creation. You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach as you drop over the edge of a steep roller coaster ride? Multiply that by about a hundred. The air warms and suddenly we are no longer standing in the snow on the side of the road.
Chapter 6
My eyes blink open to take in our new surroundings, but I’m so dizzy that I think I may fall over, so I sit down on the bed behind me to regain my sense of balance. The bed is plush and upon further inspection of the room, I conclude that Grey has somehow instantly transported us to the fanciest, most elegant hotel room I have ever seen. This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder. One minute I’m outside in the middle of a snowstorm, frantically trying to keep Brian from bleeding to death, and the next minute, not only does his grave wound miraculously heal itself, but Brian himself literally vanishes into thin air. How did he do that? How did Grey and I end up here? What is going on? I can tell that I’m on the verge of losing it, but I’m so weak that I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone try to mentally digest what just happened.
Grey sits in one of the two pale-gold Queen Anne chairs in the room, watching me carefully. He looks as though he wants to say something, but I can tell he is assessing the extent of my rapidly declining mental state before he says anything that will push me further off the deep end.
“What happened?”
“How are you feeling?” he asks cautiously.
“Like I’m going crazy. What the hell happened?” I try to stand up, but I ‘m still really dizzy and my head feels like it’s been split open so I sit back down.
“I will tell you everything, but I need to make sure you are okay first. You've been through a lot today.”
No joke. I feel like I have been hit by a truck.
“I'm fine,” I say as normally as I can manage and try to position myself in a more dignified way.
“Are you sure?”
“No, not at all,” I reply as a nervous laugh escapes my lips. “But I want to know what happened. I need to know that I am not crazy. That everything that I think happened today, actually happened and why.”
He pauses for a minute longer, takes a deep breath, and begins.
“Okay, I will tell you everything. What you just witnessed, Brian's miraculous recovery, you did that. Your touch healed him."
“Come again?”
“You healed him.”
“That's not possible.”
"Oh, it is. The reason I know this is because...well," He pauses with a nervous sigh. "Did you ever read that book I gave you?”
“The fairy tale history book?”
“Yes.”
“Um...no, I didn’t. I’m sorry. I meant to. I just couldn’t get into it and then you made me mad so I didn’t even want to look at it let alone open it and read it. But what does that old book have to do with what’s going on now?”
“It has everything to do with what is happening now. That wasn’t just a fairy tale book. It was our actual history.”
“Whose history?” I ask him completely confused.
“Ours. The Ljósálfar. I am a Light Elf."
Well, I didn't see that one coming.
“A Light Elf? Don't be ridiculous. There is no such—” But I don't finish my sentence because Grey has pushed his hair behind his left ear...his slightly pointy, very elf-like ear. How many hours have I spent staring at this boy in the last few months? How on earth did I miss that? I mean, those. I mean…holy smokes. That's why he gave me that stupid book!
Greyson St. Clair is a freaking elf. I feel my jaw drop.
“Yes. A Light Elf. I was sent to watch over you by your father, Alberico.”
The fact that Grey knows my father throws me off even more than the pointy ears that he has managed to keep hidden from me for all these months.
“My father? My real father? How do you know him? And what do you mean you were sent here to watch over me? Why? When? How long? My father? Are you sure? My mom said he just left and she never heard from him again. How is this possible?” It is too much. I jolt out of bed and pace the room like a caged animal, trying to make sense of the information overload that has just upended my entire universe.
“Slow down. I promise you, I will tell you everything, but let's try one question at a time so I can actually give you an answer, shall we?”
“I’m sorry. This is just so overwhelming. And quite frankly, unbelievable, you know? You’re asking me to believe the impossible! This is the sort of thing that would happen in one of my books, not in real-life!"
“Yes, I know it can be a little hard to understand. I'll try to explain everything the best that I can, but please, try to calm down.”
He waits to see if I’m going to freak out again, and when I don't, he continues. “Your father is the Light Elf King. We are actually in his castle in Álfheimr as we speak.”
“Wait a second. I’m in a castle?” I look around at my elegant surroundings. There is a crystal chandelier hanging above the bed and the lush bedding looks and feels expensive. The circular shape of the room leads me to believe that we may be in a tower. I rush to the window, throw back the thick, heavy curtains and gasp in shock at the sight before me. This room is in a tower, and there is a second tower on the opposite side of a massive stone palace. Wow, I really am in a castle. An actual castle. “I thought this was some swanky hotel.”
“No, it is most certainly not 'some swanky hotel'. You are currently standing in one of the many guest rooms inside the finest castle ever built in the beautiful land of Álfheimr. I thought it would be best to give you a heads up in private before introducing you to your father.”
“Álfheimr? Not that my geographical knowledge is very extensive or anything, but I have never even heard of it.”
“No, I imagine you have not.” He hesitates as he searches for the right words. “You would be unable to find us on any man-made map, after all.”
“Are we in some sort of parallel universe or something?” I ask him, nervous that he might actually say yes. This is all completely unbelievable.
“That is not too far off from the truth. In actuality, Álfheimr is located in, well, what you would call Heaven.”
“Like, ‘in the sky above the earth’ Heaven? ‘God and angels’ Heaven?”
“’In the sky above the earth’ Heaven, yes. God and Angels, however, would be a different branch of cosmology altogether.”
“So there are elves but no angels?” I ask skeptically.
“I never said that,” he replies, shaking his head. “But, no, you will not come across any Angels in Álfheimr.”
“How did we get here?”
“One of the perks of being an elf is the ability to transport at will. I was under strict orders from Alberico to transport you immediately to the kingdom if I thought you were in any sort of danger.”
“Again, how can you be so sure that this Alberico guy even is my father? Like I said, my mom hasn't seen him since that summer eighteen years ago.” I’m beginning to feel a bit light-headed.
“Well, if you would let me finish speaking, I would tell you," he says with a sigh of amused exasperation.
“Sorry. I'll be quiet.” I make a show of zipping my mouth close.
“Like I was saying, your father is Alberico, King of the Light Elves. And yes, I am certain he is your father. Alberico and Katherine had a summer romance that ended abruptly.
When he returned to Manhattan a year later and discovered she had a baby girl, he was concerned. Uncertain whether or not he was the father, he sent me to watch over you and wait for some indication that you had elfin blood running through your veins. I have been keeping watch ever since, waiting for some sign. Today, when you healed Brian, Alberico's belief that you were his daughter was confirmed since healing is most certainly an elfish ability. A rare one, but it is one none the less. I am sure you are already bursting with questions so before I continue, why don't you get them all out?”
Just as I open my mouth to do exactly that, we are interrupted by a light tapping on the door.
“Come in,” Grey says politely, but I can sense a slight annoyance in his tone. I guess he didn't want to be interrupted. A dainty little flaxen-haired elf enters the room. She’s about my height, maybe a little shorter and way skinnier. Her long hair is braided behind her, which makes her pointy ears evident. She’s wearing a simple pale gray dress that falls to her ankles.
“Greyson?” she asks meekly.
“Yes?” He gestures for her to speak.
“The king wanted me to let you know that he will be down shortly.”
“Okay. Thank you, Freya. We are ready,” Grey says kindly as he dismisses her. She gives a quick little curtsy then makes a swift exit.
“My father?” I gulp.
“Yes.” Grey looks at me cautiously.
“My father, who is the King of the Light Elves, sent you to watch over me when I was a baby?” Something about that just doesn't make any sense, and I start feeling a little dizzy as another implausible thought occurs to me.
“Yes.”
“I am guessing you weren't a baby at the time” The room is definitely spinning. Grey looks like he is a teenager for goodness sake. But if he really has been watching me since I was a baby.....
“That would be a correct assumption.” He hesitates before continuing, “I was 170 years old.”
I finally faint.
When I come to, I realize that I’m now lying down on the lavish bed, under a thick downy comforter that smells like honeysuckle and cinnamon. Which is a very weird, but oddly pleasant combination. As I lay there for a moment, inhaling the sweet and spicy scent, I notice someone new conversing quietly with Grey across the room. Since neither of them realize I’m awake yet, I lay there silently watching them and try to eavesdrop. This new boy appears only slightly older than Grey and he is, in a word, hot. He’s just as gorgeous as Grey, but in a completely different way. While Grey has a rugged sexiness about him with his dark hair, blue eyes, and dimpled chin, this new guy is beautiful in the clean-cut, boy-next-door turned underwear model sort of way. He has the lightest blonde hair I have ever seen, and it falls almost to his shoulders. His eyes are so bright I can see them from across the room. They are the color of the blue sky on a perfectly clear summer afternoon. He is wearing simple, nondescript tan pants and a white tunic-like shirt, which strikes me as an odd choice for a boy.
I listen for a moment and catch the gist of the conversation. Grey is explaining what happened today, but from his submissive gestures and the look of reverence in his eyes as he addresses this new guy, it is obvious that this hottie is much more important than just a beautiful underwear model. Suddenly, something clicks.
Not possible.
But after everything else that has happened today, it probably is.
Oh gross. I just called my dad hot.
“Grey?”
He immediately jumps up out of his chair at the sound of my voice, but Alberico stands up with the regality befitting a true monarch.
“Hello, Mia. It is lovely to meet you. I am Alberico,” he greets me formally, but his eyes sparkle with delight, as though he has been waiting a really long time for this moment.
Unbelievable. I’m staring at the King of the Light Elves, who also happens to be my long-lost father. The part that really freaks me out, though, is the fact that he looks like he is only a few years older than me. I must look completely ridiculous staring at him with my mouth gaping open, because he laughs. It’s a husky, full of life laugh.
“Yes, I guess my appearance would be a bit unnerving. Would you like me to explain how it is possible that we look to be about the same age?” he asks good-heartedly.
“How did you know I was thinking that?”
“Intuition,” he chuckles softly.
I regain what little composure I had to begin with and say, “I’m guessing that it’s an elf thing?”
“Yes, it is an 'elf thing'.”
“So are you immortal or something?” The thought causes a shiver to run down my spine.
He laughs again as he casually waves a hand in the direction of the fireplace, igniting the flames and warming the room instantly.
“No, I am not immortal. Although elves are born and experience childhood much the same as a human would, after adolescence we age much more slowly. I am 330 years old, but as you can see, I look more like I am in my mid-20s.”
Freaky. I wonder....
“What does that mean for me? You know, since I am part human, part—” I can't quite bring myself to say the word. It still doesn't feel real. In fact, I am still not 100% convinced that this isn't some whacked-out vivid dream.
“Well, to be honest, we aren't really sure. You see, Half-bloods are not very common. It is so unusual for an elf to, well, I apologize for the brusque terminology but, it is unusual for an elf to mate with a human. After the 15th century, the elves decided it would be in our best interest to distance ourselves from the human race.”
“What happened in the 15th century?” I wonder out loud.
“The Witch Hunts,” he utters darkly.
“What does that have to do with...um, elves? Are there witches here too?” I suddenly am very curious to know if there are all sorts of different mythological creatures of legends living among us and we just don't know it.
“Not here in Álfheimr. Real witches are a rarity. Most of the so-called witches were actually just careless elves. It was an awful time. Before then, elves and humans lived peacefully together, but eventually the humans started to fear our magic. This initiated a mass hysteria, and many elves lost their lives. We disappeared, letting the memories of our kind shift from factual history to legend, until finally, we became the make-believe creatures of fairy tales. Very few believe in the existence of elves any more. Well, you know, other than the North Pole variety.” He smirks as if he finds his attempt at a lightening the mood quite clever.
It sort of works.
My brain struggles to process all of this new information while still maintaining my vital functions. It is currently a little over-worked.
“So, let's see if I have everything straight. You are my father and the King of the Light Elves. You appear young but actually live for hundreds of years. You possess magical abilities, which I, too, apparently inherited to a small degree, although as far as we know, I'll still age normally. And you all have pointy ears, which I, fortunately, did not inherit.”
I’m apparently having issues overlooking the whole ear thing.
“That sums it up pretty well,” Alberico smiles brightly at my bluntness.
“Well, then I just have one more question. Where have you been? Why did you just leave? How could you do that to my mom? Do you know what you did to her?” Okay that was more than one question. I know I'm being rude, but a sudden wave of anger has caught me off guard, and I’m just thankful I didn't yell at him, or worse. That probably would not have been a very good idea since he is a King, after all, and could probably have me beheaded for insubordination or something.
