Epilogue, page 24
“I mean, you jumped up really quick. You used to be impossible to wake up.”
I’d already promised myself never to lie to her again, and I wasn’t about to break it now. “… I don’t really sleep well anymore.”
“Since you got back?”
“… No. Before that.” I took a deep breath, but Sara held up her hand before I could say anything.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to. Just tell me when you’re ready, okay?”
I closed my mouth. I wasn’t ready. I thought I was, but the moment I tried to summon those memories to the surface, just to talk about them, they enveloped me like a frozen river. The sounds were the worst. The chains, clanking on the stone floors as they dragged past. Metal gates opening and closing day and night without warning. Newcomers crying through their first night—then the utter silence when they didn’t come back on their second.
“Nightmares,” I said finally.
Sara nodded, trying to look sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do more to help.”
“You really are. You don’t have to be sorry.” I tried to give her my best smile. “Thanks for letting me steal your bed.”
“You didn’t even ask,” she growled in mock-outrage.
“Well, I didn’t get to sleep anyway, so all’s fair?”
She shook her head, smirking, then twisted around and tapped at her keyboard. The computer screen flicked on. “I’ve got a paper I have to finish writing. Are you spending the night?”
“Is that cool?”
“Of course. Just … we gotta stay quiet. I can’t have my parents finding out.”
I was puzzled by that one. Sara’s parents had always been super nice to me. “Why not?”
She shrugged. “I just don’t want to answer questions I don’t have to.”
“Okay.” I felt like I wasn’t getting the whole truth, but I trusted her. She’d tell me when she felt ready, same as she’d offered to me.
Okay, I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding the dragon in the room. That stone I found out in the forest. I hadn’t decided anything about it yet. But it was a way back. All three of us could go back. To Cyraveil.
Did I even want to go back? I had no clue. I mean, I’d been leaning toward the idea when it was just wishful thinking, but having the actual possibility suddenly thrust into my hands was way, way different. Now it wasn’t a hypothetical anymore, something to comfort myself before I got back to facing the real world again. Now, this world wasn’t even necessarily the real one anymore. This was just one world, and Cyraveil was another.
Before you start wondering if I was getting all worked up over nothing, I was almost one-hundred-percent sure that the stone was for real. It was written in a language only I knew, out of anybody on the entire planet, and it described—in explicit detail—the exact nature and methodology of casting an etomala for transporting people across worlds. I’d even tried out the first part of it, and for a second, I’d actually felt the connection again. In the core of my being, I felt swirls of energy, beautifully familiar. I cut it off before I went too far, but it was exhilarating.
We’d even be returned to the exact time when we’d left, although I couldn’t say for sure where. Stars, if it split us up again …
The idea was tempting, I won’t lie. If nothing else, having options again made me feel so much more at ease. At the same time, though, my nightmares weren’t getting any better, and every last one of them had to do with Cyraveil. How could I just go back to that? And Matt— why would Matt ever want to go back? The two of us had a life here, and even Carl could probably find a way through his issues. Go back to normal. If the three of us weren’t certain, we’d never cross back safely, and we had to have three to make the trip. The stone was very clear on the rules.
When I found it, I stayed in that clearing for a long time. I just looked at it, looked at the trees, at the sky. I barely moved for an hour, if not longer. When I finally did, I left the rock exactly where it was. I felt like it shouldn’t be touched, like it was sacred or something. I don’t really know why; it’s not like Sylves worship rocks or something. Sylves don’t worship anything, really.
Anyway, after all of that, I just didn’t want to be alone—but at the same time, even wandering down my own street, the neighborhood I’d grown up in, I looked around at every house and realized I didn’t know a single person. Not one neighbor. I couldn’t even remember ever meeting them in the first place. Had I ever met them? Had I bothered to get to know the people right next to my own damn house?
I got out of there. I was scared. Sure, I could tell myself I probably wasn’t in any real danger, but that doesn’t mean daphut when you’re feeling like you’re surrounded by strangers with intentions you can’t understand, people you don’t know, who you can’t expect to leave if you just wait them out. My own house no longer felt safe to me … so I ran.
Instinct brought me to Sara’s. It was a pretty easy climb from a tree near her house to the roof, and from there in through her bedroom window. I’d never tried to sneak in before, but I just wanted somewhere to hide out that felt familiar. Plus, nobody was home. Weirdly enough, Sara’s room felt more familiar and safe than my family’s house. At least, while it was devoid of my actual family, anyway.
“This is soaked,” said Sara, picking at the jacket I’d draped over the folding chair she kept in the corner. “Were you outside this whole time?”
“Oh, you know me,” I said airily.
“Uh-huh. Out worshipping trees or something?”
“That’s racist,” I grinned. “But yeah, I was out in the woods. Speaking of which, how did your date go? Matt refused to spill.”
“It went … okay?” Sara tilted her head to the side. “There was a lot to talk about. Things more to do with magic and certain parallel worlds.”
“Oh … sorry I ruined your date,” I said, red-faced.
“As if.” Sara echoed my tone from earlier almost perfectly. She even tried to affect my accent. I couldn’t help but laugh. “That bad?”
“You sound like a five-year-old dubasal.” I giggled.
“Well, you’re my teacher, so whose fault is that?” Sara easily dodged the pillow I threw at her. “Jeez, you’re so violent now.”
The mood was dead. Sara had killed it. I felt utterly deflated by her words. I tried not to show it, but to her credit, Sara realized instantly.
“… I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Please, don’t feel like you have to tiptoe around me. I’m good.”
She still looked concerned. “… Do you want to talk about it?”
Yes, please, by all the stars in the sky. “Seriously, it’s fine. No problem.” Sara didn’t look convinced, but I was determined to change the subject. “Have you called Matt yet?”
“Uhh, yeah. But not about what you’re thinking.”
“Huh?”
She adjusted in her chair, hesitating for a moment. “Carl called me. I think he’s losing it. I thought I should warn Matt before something happens.”
“… Losing it how?”
“He was totally incoherent. Err … sorry. I mean, he sounded really confused. Really unsure of himself. Like he might do something really stupid.”
I stood up and started pacing. I needed movement. Blood flowing through my brain would help me think more clearly. It usually did, anyway. I wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind right then, but I would take anything I could get. Carl, what are you doing? Are you crazy?
“Jen?”
“I don’t know,” I said. The pacing stopped, almost as quickly as it had started. My body stepped in and pointedly reminded me how exhausted I actually was, forcing me to sit down. “He’s under a lot of pressure. I think he just needs some time.”
Sara looked even less sure than I was. “But … the cops?”
“They don’t have anything. They can’t have anything.” My face warmed with guilt as I repeated Matt’s usual line. “There’s no evidence.”
Sara shrugged—but before she could say anything else, a light tap-tap-tap came from her bedroom door. Her father’s muffled voice rang out. “Sara?”
My head twisted around to face the door, and before I could stop myself, my hand took hold of the knife still tucked behind my back. Sara didn’t seem to notice. I forced myself to release the handle. Why had I grabbed it? There wasn’t any danger here, was there? Sara seemed nervous, but that could be nothing. I was an uninvited guest who snuck in—of course she’d be nervous about her dad finding out.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“I’m coming in, okay?”
Before she could answer, the door opened and her father stepped into the room. I felt the temperature slide up just a few degrees instantly, as everything seemed to sharpen. Something about his posture, or maybe it was Sara’s, but I felt threatened. My hand slowly crept back toward my knife, out of sight.
He looked around and spotted me, his eyebrows raised. “Jen? When did you get here?”
“A little bit ago. Sorry, Mr. Monaghan,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I needed to talk to Sara about something.”
“Well, it’s late, and Sara didn’t ask to have guests over. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.” His tone brooked absolutely no room for argument, but I still hesitated. I glanced at Sara. Part of me was just feeling rebellious—I really didn’t like being told what to do—but I didn’t want to get Sara in trouble.
She nodded at me, very slowly, very carefully. I raised my eyebrows, trying to get something from her, but her mouth was shut tight.
I stood up, feeling very out of place. I mean, feeling out of place was my entire life at this point, but I felt especially wrong right then. I told myself it was nothing. I was just crazy. I was a lunatic from another world with some serious mental problems. Nothing about this was remotely threatening. I was imagining it.
Her dad didn’t want unexpected guests in his house. That was totally reasonable. He’d even asked nicely.
I started down the stairs, her dad following and Sara trailing only a few steps behind. She still hadn’t spoken a single word. I could hear her footsteps. Too careful. Too light. Something was wrong. She was tense, way too tense. Preparing for something.
I couldn’t be imagining all of this, could I?
“Do you need a ride home?” he asked, opening the front door for me.
I shook my head. “It’s not too far. I can walk.”
“All right. We’ll see you for dinner on Monday, then.”
“Night, Jen,” called Sara, with only the faintest quiver in her voice.
I gave them a thumbs-up before stepping out into the street. It was cold out, especially with my still-damp jacket clinging to my shoulders. At least it had stopped raining. I set off down the road, whistling a tune Ruvalei once taught me. A bird flew across the road, landing in the trees opposite, chirping madly. I smiled at it, taking it as a sign, though the birds in this world weren’t smart enough to carry messages like I was used to. It didn’t matter though; I’d made up my mind.
I reached the end of Sara’s yard and promptly dove between the two houses, rolling on the slick grass.
You didn’t think I was actually gonna leave, did you? That song I was whistling was a prelude to war. It foretold the coming of fire and destruction, swift vengeance on any who dared harm the forests. Ruvalei had always hated that song, but she held it as something sacred and beautiful, nonetheless. I had to paraphrase it a bit to fit the situation with Sara, but I was sure Ruvalei would understand. It gave me the courage I needed.
I wasn’t done here yet.
I crouched beneath the Monaghans’ window, just outside their kitchen. The fence was easy to get over. I doubted anybody had seen me drop into their backyard. I left my bag back in front, near the street but hidden away in a bush. If I had to make a break for it, I could grab it as I went, or come back for it later if necessary.
I could hear someone talking. A deep voice—had to be Sara’s dad. The words were too muffled though. I had to get closer.
A few more steps would take me to the sliding door into the living room, where they were probably sitting. I had to stay low or I could be spotted through the kitchen window, but I couldn’t just crawl straight to the door. There was a wooden patio deck in front of the door that raised up off the ground. I settled on a kind of awkward waddle that kept me low to the ground, but also let me balance on my feet to take slow, silent steps. The wood creaked a bit with each movement, but I doubted they could hear it inside.
After a very stressful couple of minutes of slow going, I finally got as close as I could to the sliding glass door, and I could hear them clearly enough to understand what they were talking about. Which, apparently, was me.
Bizarre.
“I don’t mind that you’re friends with her. I mind that you let her into our home without asking.” He sounded so calm … but at the same time, there was an emptiness in his voice I hadn’t recognized before. Or maybe it hadn’t been there until now.
“She comes over all the time, Dad,” said Sara, but it wasn’t the same Sara I was used to. Her voice wasn’t steady. There was that tiny tremor I’d heard before, except it had grown to an earthquake. I didn’t recognize her at all. Sara never let anyone boss her around, but now she sounded … scared.
I hated hearing her sound scared. My friends should never have to feel scared. I never wanted them to feel that. But this wasn’t my family. It wasn’t my life. Did I really have the right to jump in? I had no idea what was going on in there. I didn’t belong here anyway. I couldn’t judge them. I should just leave, go back to my own home, my own family.
If Sara’s voice hadn’t sounded so afraid, I would have disappeared back into the forests. Possibly forever. Utterly alone. But I cared too much to leave her behind. I had to stay. I had to make sure she was okay, or I’d never have a moment’s peace. I’d listen, and then I’d leave.
Thank every single star in every sky in every world that exists in the whole damn universe that I didn’t walk away.
“Sara, you are not to talk back to me.” His voice was laced with ice, a chill I’d not heard in a man’s voice in a very long time. How had he concealed that from me for so long? I knew that tone. I recognized that brutality. I’d heard it before, from a man I’d—
No. Now wasn’t the time for getting lost in memories. I forced it away. I needed to focus.
“Honey, it’s okay. Jenny’s gone, no harm done,” said Sara’s mom. “Let’s all just head to bed, all right?”
“No. It’s not all right,” snapped her father. The volume in the room ticked up a notch. “Sara directly disobeyed me. She disrespected my wishes in front of a guest of the house.”
I heard something scrape along the floor. I desperately wanted to see what was going on, but moving even an inch forward would put me in direct view of the couch. All I could see was the near corner, where I saw a vague shadow I assumed to be Sara’s, outlined on the wall.
I looked down at my hands. When did my knife get there? I didn’t remember drawing it from its sheath. I wasn’t about to put it away again though. I clutched it firmly, grip at the ready. Just in case.
Just in case.
Nothing was going to go wrong. This was just a family argument.
“Sara, you understand what you’ve done wrong?”
“Yes, I do,” she replied quickly. Again, that fear. I felt real pain in my chest, hearing that from my best friend.
“Tell me.”
“I invited a friend over without asking for permission. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No,” he growled. Fire blew through the ice, as his voice became a hot spear. I knew that voice too. Knew it all too well. I knew what was coming next, even if I couldn’t see it.
No. I didn’t know. This was all wrong. People like that didn’t exist here. This was the real world. This was the suburbs. Oregon. We were safe here.
“Respect, Sara. You did not respect me. Your father.”
Another scrape. A chair moving along the floor? Somebody stood up, I guessed.
Sara’s mom spoke next. “Dear, please. It’s okay.”
Thump. Someone slamming something? Maybe a book on the table. I couldn’t be sure.
“It is not okay,” her father snapped. “Don’t interrupt me.”
Sara’s mom didn’t reply. I watched Sara’s shadow shift uneasily, but I couldn’t get any more details just from that. I heard another thump, followed by the sound of the couch sinking in. Their couch had a very distinct sound when it compressed, like when someone sat down. That only confirmed my fear that somebody would see me if I peeked around the corner. I had to stay still.
“I’m sorry for disrespecting you,” said Sara. Her voice was so small. I’d never heard her sound like that before. I didn’t know she was capable of sounding so weak and defeated. What the hell was going on in that room?
I don’t belong here, I repeated in my head. I don’t know what’s going on. Nothing’s happening.
Thump.
I don’t belong here.
A sharp cry. Someone in pain, or maybe just exclaiming something.
I don’t belong I don’t belong I don’t belong.
Another thump, and a groan.
Fuck this.
I hooked my shoe onto the lip of the door and shoved. It slid open in one smooth motion. A gust of air whistled over the threshold. I hurled myself around the corner.
Time stopped. Dear stars, why did I wait so long?
Her mother was curled up in the corner of the couch, hiding her face, protecting herself. Through the gap between her limbs, I saw bruising. Tears streamed down her face—the kind I knew. The kind you have to learn to shed in absolute silence.
Sara was in the chair nearest me. Towering over her, clenched fist raised, was her father. She was ducking into a defensive posture, something that was really just useless. Instinctive, but ultimately pointless against a man that outweighed her by so much, with far more strength and endurance.
I didn’t have long to act. I still had the element of surprise, but every head was turning toward me. I saw the threat, to my best friend and to myself, and I moved in.
