“And
my father?”
“Edáire.
We called him Ed.”
A
foreign world with a familiar name. She smiled, finding that somehow comforting.
She returned her gaze to the amulet and memories trickled back to her. “Adelina
never took this off,” she said. “Every time I remember her, she had it around
her neck. But it glowed then. Now it’s dull.” Tracing her finger over the
stone, she frowned. It felt too smooth. “It’s glass,” she realized. “I thought
it was an amethyst.”
Nick
stood and approached. He pressed his finger on the glass, opening it to reveal
a shallow compartment. “It held a stone once. Someone stole it. Are you all
right?”
Meaghan
nodded. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“I
understand. It’s a lot to absorb.” He closed the necklace again, and then
lifted it over her head, releasing it so it hung against her chest. “Keep this
safe. It’s the only thing left of your mother.”
She
tucked it under her shirt. “What do we do now?”
“Sleep,”
he answered. “We can set out at first light.”
“Where
are we going?”
“Home,”
he replied. “It’s time to bring you home.”
A
NTICIPATION GREW
,
building within her
until it hardened her muscles with tension. It overwhelmed both the excitement
and nervous energy that preceded—preceded what exactly? Meaghan did not
know. She also did not know the source for the sudden rush of emotions. She
reacted to them. Her muscles trembled. Her nerves tingled. Her breath came
short and shallow. Her mind felt the flush of adrenaline and stood on guard for
whatever came next, but the reaction did not belong to her. At first, she
thought it stemmed from a dream, but when she opened her eyes and excitement
remained, she realized the danger in it.
The
fire flickered in front of her, casting shadows across the barn walls. Though
the flames had dwindled, their presence told her she had not been sleeping
long. The foreign emotions intensified, hammering through her mind like
overlapping percussions, and she felt her own fear rise in response. She rolled
onto her side to wake Nick, surprised to find he no longer lay next to her. She
sat up, scanned the room, and discovered him by the barn door holding a bucket.
He brought the bucket to the fire and set it down.
“Can
you feel them?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
She
threw off the blanket and stood. “I can feel their emotions. Anxiety, tension,
and excitement, mostly. Who do they belong to?”
“The
police. I’m guessing they found the car.” He walked over to her, then picked up
the blanket, and folded it. “Do you have your mother’s necklace?”
She
brought a hand to her throat. Finding the thin silver chain, she traced her
fingers down to the amulet and nodded. “It’s safe.”
“Good.
Keep it on for now. We need to open the portal.”
“I
thought you said we had to travel more.” He did not respond and she studied his
face, trying to gauge how he felt. “How far away are we from where we need to
be?”
“I’m
not sure. I left a pulse stone at the portal location where I landed when I
first came to Earth. It emits a magical beacon.” He located the backpack on the
ground, and tucked the blanket inside. “We’re at least five miles away.”
“Can
we sneak out of here without the police seeing us?”
Nick
shook his head. “I’m sensing people from every direction. What about you? Can
you focus enough to tell where the emotions are coming from?”
She
frowned. “I’m afraid not. It’s all a big jumble. They’re confident, though, and
the anticipation is mounting. That’s not a good sign.”
“No,
it’s not.”
“They’re
coming,” she added, focusing her attention toward the door. “The emotions are
getting closer.”
“I
know. Are you ready to cross over?”
“How?”
Meaghan turned her head to stare at him. “If we’re five miles away—”
“Portals
can be opened anywhere. It would’ve been more convenient to reach the pulse
stone before we opened one, but we have no other options. Not unless we want to
try opening one from jail.” Nick handed her the backpack and picked up the
bucket again. “It’s time.”
She
slung the backpack over one shoulder. “What do you mean by ‘more convenient’? What
aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing
that can’t wait.” He tipped the bucket. Water rushed out, turning the fire into
hissing embers. Only moonlight remained to cut the darkness, filtering through
the roof in faint streams.
The
door burst open. Four men in black clothing and bulletproof vests ran into the
room, their guns and flashlights drawn and pointed at Nick.
“Freeze,” one man yelled.
“You’re under—”
Nick
grabbed her hand and the barn dissolved into white.
§
S
HE EXPECTED
to feel
weightless, like she drifted on air, or to feel compressed and torn as her new
world ripped her from her old one. At the least, she expected nausea to
accompany her journey. She had read enough science fiction novels and had
watched more than her fair share of space-themed television shows to know crossing
from one world to another should disrupt her body and shake her mind. Yet she
felt nothing.
They
had not leapt into a wormhole. Nick had not tugged her after him into a
swirling vortex. She had simply stood in place, the ground solid beneath her
feet as the barn disappeared, its wooden roof yielding to an endless sky
decorated with brilliant stars and a low hanging moon. A large clearing replaced
wood walls and tall trees replaced the policemen. Even the frigid weather warmed
to a manageable temperature.
“That
was anti-climactic,” she quipped.
Nick
grinned and let go of her hand. “I’m afraid reality can’t compare to fiction
where portal travel is concerned.”
He
turned to scan the horizon and his grin dissolved. She tried to sense the
emotions behind the mood change, but he blocked her still. Inhaling a deep
breath, she used the motion to calm her mounting anxiety. Today had been more
than she could handle. She chased a tear away from the corner of her eye, and
then tucked her hands into her pockets when Nick turned to look at her.
“It’s
not as cold here,” she said. “Is the climate more temperate?”
“It’s
about the same,” he responded. “We’re a season behind where you lived on Earth.
It’s autumn now. It’ll start getting colder soon, but it should be better
travel for us.”
“That’s
good.” Rocking back on her heels, she glanced away, toward the distance where
she thought he had been looking. Through the darkness, she could see the faint
outline of a mountain range. “Can you sense any better how far we have to
travel?”
He
shook his head. “I won’t be able to tell where we are until daylight. We’ll
need to stay put for the rest of the night.”
The
apprehension in his voice drew her gaze back to him. She scanned his face in an
effort to sense what he felt, but again found emptiness. He walked to a fallen
tree and sat down.
“I
think it would be best for you to get some rest,” he told her. “If you lay the
blanket on the grass here, you should be comfortable enough to sleep for a few
hours. I’d like to be moving again at dawn.”
She
slipped the backpack off her shoulder. Opening it, she removed the blanket and
spread it on the ground before joining him on the log.
“You
need sleep too,” she said.
“I
slept enough. I’ll stand guard. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
She
frowned, then clasped her hands in her lap and closed her eyes, attempting to
see if she could force her power past his block. She soon realized the effort
was as useless as trying to speak a foreign language without taking any
lessons. The ability to read emotions came naturally to her and as a result,
she knew nothing about controlling it. She tightened her hands in her lap and
turned her gaze toward the mountains again in an effort to hide her growing
frustration.
There
were four peaks. They followed each other, black against the night sky so that
she almost could not make out the last one in the distance. They reminded her
of the mountains near her home where she and her parents had camped every year
since she was a small child. Their most recent trip had been at the end of the
summer. She could still smell the campfire and hear her mother laughing at her
father’s ghost stories. It had been one of their best trips, although they had had
to cut it short so Meaghan could meet with her advisor at the university. The
appointment had seemed important then, but now she wished she had moved it to
have more time with her parents. Grief stabbed through her and she closed her
eyes against it.
“What’s
wrong?” Nick asked. She opened her eyes, but did not respond. “Meg, talk to
me.”
“I’m
fine.”
“You’re
not.” He placed a hand on her arm. “You’re upset. You’re trying to hide it, but
I can tell. What’s going on?”
“I’m…”
she hesitated, and then sighed, “frustrated. I don’t like this.”
He
raised his hand to her cheek. “I realize the situation is hard, but by tomorrow
we’ll be able to—”
“I
can deal with the situation.” She brushed his hand off and stood, turning to
face him. “I don’t like you blocking me. I miss my parents. I’m still having a
hard time believing I’m on a different world, and this blocking thing makes me
feel odd, like there’s something missing.”
“That’s
because there is,” he told her. “Your power is a part of you and having it
blocked is unnatural. I promise it’s for the best.”
“Why?”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “What are you hiding from me?”
“I’m
not hiding anything.”
“You
are. I know you’re not telling me something, and now you can sense what I’m
feeling.”
“What
makes you think I can sense your feelings?”
“You
said you knew I was upset. How else could you know?”
He
laughed, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Her frustration gave way to anger.
“You think this is funny? You drop me in the middle of nowhere, then you take
away my power and you think it’s
funny
?”
He
stopped laughing. Standing up, he bracketed her shoulders with his hands. “Your
power is still your own,” he told her. His eyes met hers and she sensed him
again. Although she felt anxiety and sorrow in him, humor overpowered those
emotions. The warmth of it almost brought a smile to her lips. She fought the
reaction, still irritated he found her anger humorous. “See?” he said, blocking
her again. “I haven’t taken your power.”
“So
why do you block it? What are you afraid I’ll discover?”
“Nothing.”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Your power is stronger here and I’m
afraid my emotions will be overwhelming for you.”
“You
can’t be certain, not if you don’t let me try.”
“I
already know what will happen,” he responded. “I wish you’d trust me.”
“How
am I supposed to trust you when I can’t tell what you’re feeling?” she
countered and then frowned when a smile returned to his lips. “You’re laughing
at me again.”
“Not
quite, although I may be soon if you don’t stop complaining. You don’t get the
humor in what you said, do you?”
Meaghan
glared at him instead of responding and he sat down on the blanket. “Sit,
please,” he said, patting the area beside him. When she refused to move, he
took her hand and pulled her down. “I’m tired of battling with you. We’re still
friends, aren’t we?”
“That
has nothing to do with this.”
“It
does. You’re not acting like it right now.”
“That
isn’t fair.” She crossed her legs and then her arms. “I’m entitled to be upset
over this.”
“You
are,” he agreed. “You’ve been through a lot, but I’m not your enemy. I’m trying
to help you, so please stop fighting with me.” She nodded and he lifted a hand
to her arm. “I can always tell when you’re upset, you know. You get tense and
you draw into yourself. Your shoulders tighten toward your ears,” he brought
his hand to her shoulder and she noticed the tension in it for the first time.
She exhaled a slow breath, forcing her muscles to relax. “And you bring your
arms in. You cross them or you clutch them in front of you.”
“I
didn’t realize.”
“I
did,” he said. “I’ve learned your cues over the past year, and not the ones
only associated with negative emotions. Your eyes crinkle when you’re trying to
hold back a laugh, like the time you played that prank on Vivian last fall,
replacing her pumpkin pie with a salted one. And you narrow your eyes right
before you make a joke or a sarcastic comment. It’s cute, and it’s one of the
clues anyone without your power would have to learn in order to gauge your
emotions.”
“So
you think it’s funny that I have to learn to be like everyone else,” she
realized. She dropped her arms and he took her hand in his. “I guess I can see
that, but it’s frustrating for me. I thought I was good at reading people and
it turns out I don’t know how to do it at all. I wish I could. It would make
this world easier for me to understand.”