Chapter 1: Going Home
I stood outside of my house, waiting for my dad to come home so that we could start painting it. He had this crazy idea of letting someone rent it over the summer while we were away. Where were we going? Romania, the country of my birth. The country where I made my first real friends: Elinor Carmitru and Raemundo Artenie.
The country where my mother disappeared off the face of the earth.
My dad planned to paint the house a pastel yellow, and only one store in a one hundred mile radius sold the tasteless color. When he told me about this particular shade, I told him, in the most sarcastic tone I could muster, "Wow, dad, that's a great idea. Why don't we put up a white, picket fence while we're at it?"
He took me seriously.
We spent the whole of the day previous putting up and painting the fences a blinding white. Me grumbling and complaining about it the entire time. Of course, I did it to where he couldn't hear me, because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He seemed so happy to be doing something like this. Who was I to ruin his fun?
So there I stood, listening to the sounds of birds chattering to one another and the sound of a cricket that decided to stay up and chirp a little longer. The cricket's chirp was high-pitched and euphonious like a violin in a string quartet. Only, it was solo. Slowly, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling my stomach push outward with the motion.
For too many moments than I could count, I stood there and let the rest of my senses take over. The smell of freshly-dewed grass tickled my nose. Wind tugged at the loose strands of my hair and, as I blew my hair away from my head, I could taste the air.
"Lorena, could you come help me with the paint, please?"
My eyelids swept from my eyes, and I could see the world again. "Yeah, Dad," I said, walking to the stairs. I hopped off of the stoop and ran over to him. He was tossing silver cans out of his car that looked kind of like paint cans. I couldn't be sure, though. When I saw how many cans he'd bought, I had to resist slamming my palm into my face.
"Do you have enough paint cans there, Dad?" I asked.
"Well, the entire house could use a fresh coat if we want to attract people to rent it before we leave. Most people won't buy a house that looks unkempt or decrepit," he explained with a laugh. It sounded kind of like a cheese-grater against sandpaper, but I refrained from covering my ears. "Besides, brightly-colored houses attract more people. It makes the house seem nicer."
"Okay," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Just hand me a brush so we can get started."
For most of the day, we worked on the outside of the house and the garage. Dad bought a can of white paint and used it for the garage, thank god. At least one part of the outside would look normal. Once we finished with painting the outside, we moved on to the inside.
Our red walls in the living-room were replaced with sky-blue and the chocolate-brown of the dining-room with lavender. He left our kitchen the same because it was a color that matched the rest of the house. As soon as that was done, I moved on to the garden. With care, I weeded my flowers and gave plant food to the ones that were looking a bit down.
"All right," Dad said, several hours later, as we settled onto the porch for a drink of water. "We shouldn't have to do too much work tomorrow. I think we finished most of it today. However-" he took a drink "-you need to start packing your things."
"Where in Romania will we be staying?" I asked, taking a swig of water from my glass.
"The same place where your mother grew up," he said. "In the same house, actually."
"What part?"
"Transylvania."
A shiver shook me. Even though I grew up there, the place still gave me the creeps. Especially that huge castle that always seemed to have storm clouds surrounding it. My dad told me it was abandoned, but something about it just felt wrong to me.
Nothing dead could make a person feel the amount of sickening gloom that place gave me. Like a leech, it sucked the warmth from my skin whenever I went anywhere near it. No amount of convincing from neither Elinor nor Raemundo would get me into that scary-seeming place.
"Why there? Can't we just stay in a hotel or something?" I asked, trying my best not to sound whiney.
"What's wrong with it? Don't your friends live around there?" He sounded so shocked. I couldn't really blame him. To him, my fear was completely irrational. "Besides, do you not remember what date next Monday is?"
My eyes dropped to my neck. The locket rested there, just like any other day. The trinket was a constant reminder to me that she was out there somewhere. But where? Where could she have gone? Did she run away or did something terrible happen to her?
"It's been ten years, Lorena. Don't you think she would like some new roses on her gra-"
"She's not dead. She just disappeared," I grumbled.
I heard my father sigh and the creak of the porch as he stood up. Heard the door behind me open and my father's footsteps pad into the house. The sound stopped as I was certain he paused in the doorway. "You need to let her go, Lorena. She's not coming back."
I didn't say anything, just waited for the door to close. Another tired sigh, then it clicked shut. Clasping it between my fingers, I pried open the silver, heart-shaped locket my mother had given me just before she vanished.
In it was a picture of her holding me as a baby. Next to her was Dad in a suit that looked much more regal than he ever wore. Both of them were smiling. The baby was reaching for her mother's hair which was identical to mine. Same dark-brown, the only difference being the bouncing curls trailing down her shoulders.
I slowly closed it as I felt my hands begin to tremble. It was downright painful to remember how normal things were before she left and how happy Dad was. We both tried to forget about her most of the time because it hurt too much for us to remember how things used to be.
I took my hand and wiped the tear that was beginning to form in my eye. Get it together, Lorina. She wouldn't want to see you cry, I chided myself. No other thought crossed my mind as I stood up and walked to the door behind me. As I emerged into the air-conditioned house, I noticed my dad on the couch, his mouth open in what I assumed to be a silent snore.
So I tiptoed up the stairs to my room and took my suitcase out of the closet. I took everything out of my drawers and stuffed them into the bag: my research for a summer project, toiletries, a small journal to log whatever adventures I had, and summer clothes. Threw a pillow in there just in case.
As soon as I finished packing the suitcase, I pulled my purse out from under a pile of clothes that I swore to myself I would do when I got back. I checked the contents of it: a pad of paper, my cellphone, a couple of books, and a small bag of pens. You never knew when you would need to jot something down.
I sat down on my bed and fell back onto the blanket. Putting my arms under my head, I stared up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars from when I first got to America still speckled the wide expanse of dark blue. When I was younger, I was obsessed with the stars. I knew every kind of constellations, their names, and the position of each. Still had a poster telling me the names and showing the shapes on my wall.
It reminded me of the times I spent with Elinor. We used to camp out in the wilderness and count them. We'd take turns using my telescope. Used to play games like hide-and-seek. She always came up with the best hiding places too. One time, she was hidden so well that I couldn't find her until the morning after. When I did find her, she was in a log by the creek.
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I thought of how great it would be to see my best friends again. I wonder if they even remember me. I thought. Or if they've changed any. I can't wait to see them. However, I hoped Rae and Elinor had gotten that stupid idea of visiting that castle out of their heads. There was no way I was ever going to that place. Ever. With a capital E, V, E, and R.
Suppressing the chill traveling, like a gathering of tiny, icy spiders, down my back, I scooted over to my pillow and tucked myself under the blanket. Pressing my head to the pillow, I shut my eyes. Not being a very light sleeper, I ended up falling asleep almost immediately.
A forest surrounded me, burning as brightly as the sun in the sky. In the center of the inferno was a dark, doorway-shaped path that seemed to extend for leagues. Not thinking of any other options, I ran forward into the blinding darkness. I could hear someone screaming nearby. Actually, multiple people. Too many different screams.
Something compelled me to save them, even though I didn't know who they were. Some unknown force grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in a zigzagging line. I struggled, but it wouldn't let me free. "Someone help me," I shouted, still squirming. The other shrieks continued, but no one responded to my call.
The invisible hand brought me to a stop in front of a village that was surrounded by monsters of all sizes. A huge skeleton grabbed people from the ground and threw them in a bunch of random directions. An armored suit threw axes at the few civilians not being terrorized by the giant. People were getting slaughtered in more gruesome ways than I ever could have imagined possible. Blood spattered the streets, painting it with the pain of the poor villagers.
For twisted reasons unfathomable to me, I couldn't bring myself to look away from it. The carnage in front of me was transfixing, even though I was horrified by the spectacle. Horrified by the bodies littering the ground. Horrified by how like the people in my town they looked.
In the center of all this chaos stood a man who looked like he belonged in a medieval roleplaying game. Like the ones some of my friends at school played. He was dressed in a black cloak with gold trim, a white shirt that looked kind of like a blouse, dress pants, and brown boots. He made strange gestures at the creatures surrounding him and shouted at them in a language that sounded like the Romanian my mother tried teaching me when I was younger.
Silver shined where his head was, and I realized that it was his hair. It was as long as my mom's, strangely. I'd never seen a man with hair that long, only in my textbooks. Yet, he looked as if he was my dad's age. Something was off about the man in the middle of this.
His eyes fell upon me, and the feeling I got whenever I went near that castle began to bear down on me, smothering. It was making it hard for me to breathe. Even worse was the fact that I was suddenly frozen in place. A sinister grin on his face, he began to walk towards me. I felt my eyes widen to a size that should not have been possible for a human being.
Without saying a word, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and lifted me into the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that he would spare me by some miracle…
My eyes shot open as I felt my heart pound in my chest. The organ was beating so fast that it hurt to breathe. "A dream, Lorena," I told myself. "It was a dream. There's no way something like that will happen."
Looking out the window, I noticed that it was still dark out. The moon was at eye-level with me. Just a normal moon the color of sugar due to the sun shining through it. I allowed myself a small smile, then remembered I forget to take off the locket. I touched it and felt a small crack, no bigger than a mark from a nail, running down the center. Just like in the nightmare, my eyes became larger than a pizza.
I jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom. I flicked the light switch and stood in front of the mirror above the sink.
With trembling fingers, I fumbled with the clasp. It was stubborn and every time I got it unhooked, it would close again. Finally, after twenty minutes of scrabbling to unclasp it, I undid the one thing holding the locket together and got a good look at the silver heart.
It looked like a knife had sliced down the middle of it. I could see a little bit of my mom's picture showing through. The picture itself was unscathed, but it still mystified me. What could have caused such a clean cut? It wasn't jagged at all, in fact.
Before I could ponder on it more, I heard the sound of a door opening and closing. I slowly padded to where the sound came from and saw a shadowy figure that looked like a person. My irrational mind took over, and I ran over and kicked the figure in their leg.
The strange being cried out and fell to the ground. "Lorena, it's me!" I heard a voice that sounded like dad say.
"Oops," I said, sticking out my hand to help my father up. A moment later, I felt a weight pulling on my hand and tugged back with just as much force. "Sorry, Dad."
Once he was on his feet, I let go. "Was it a nightmare?" he asked.
"Yeah, but something happened to my locket, too." I gestured for him to come into the restroom. I showed him the locket.
He tisked. "That won't be very easy to fix. How did it happen?" His eyebrow was raised as he stared at my silvery memento.
"I… don't know. I just woke up, and it was like that. But what's strange is that Mom's picture is fine," I said.
"We'll have to take care of it in the morning before people start coming in asking to rent," he said. His expression turned firm. "But you, young lady, need to go back to bed. It's one in the morning." He walked away before I could say anything more.
"Okay. Night," I said to the space of air where he stood originally. The door slamming closed was the only response I received. With quiet steps, I trotted down the stairs and checked to see if all of the windows and doors were locked. As I figured, they were.
I went back up the stairs to my bedroom and turned on the light. I inspected my room for any traces of a weapon lying around. After searching for a couple of minutes, I felt silly and crawled under the covers once more. As I settled back into my sleeping position, I heard a strange creaking noise coming from beside me. I turned to where my window was and saw it parted slightly. Swiftly, I slammed it shut and latched it.
I cocooned myself in my blanket, trying to stop shaking. What was going on that night? First that strange dream, then my locket broke, and now the window being open even though I was almost positive I locked it. Something was up.
Even with these unsettling thoughts, I was able to fall asleep. Hopefully, I would stay asleep until morning that time.
Turns out I was even more tired than I thought because I did sleep the rest of the morning – and the afternoon. By the time I got up, it was three in the afternoon. "Oh man. Dad's gonna murder me," I said to myself as I jolted out of bed. Scrounging for something to put on, I grabbed my slippers. I ran down the stairs and into the living room where I figured my dad would be. He was sitting on the couch with a couple and their five-year-old child.
The couple looked so cheerful, their smiles a contagion that would not take effect on me. Probably not my dad either. The woman had shiny, blond hair that cascaded down her shoulders in ever-rolling waves. Her smile was as white as snow in late November and just as sparkly.
The man wore a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of shorts that screamed "I'm on summer vacation." His hair was almost as dark as the sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt. His face was adorned by a smile that was similar to his wife's. The child in the middle of them just looked bored out of his mind.
My dad, suddenly realizing I was in the room, turned to me. "Mrs. And Mr. Peterson, this is my daughter Lorena," he said to the couple.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lorena," Mrs. Peterson said, surveying my disheveled appearance. She was probably repulsed by my now-wrinkled outfit from the day before, my hair that probably looked like a rat's nest and my torn-to-pieces bunny slippers. Thankfully, she didn't say anything about them. Instead, she turned back to my father. "Are you two the only people living here?"
"Yup. Just two of us here," he responded, plastering on a smile. "It can get lonely, but we keep each other company, and sometimes we have visitors besides the neighborhood strays." He laughed, and I had to refrain from covering my ears, again.
The couple laughed nervously. "The house seems nice enough. How long will you be gone?" the man asked in a British accent.
"We should be gone until early August. If you'll hand me your number, I will get in touch with you when we're on our way home."
The woman scribbled digits on a piece of paper and handed it to my father. Dad then went on to explain the stipulations for renting: leave the drawers closed, don't go through the jewelry box on the nightstand, tend to the garden daily and keep the house as clean as you possibly can. The man took down all of these instructions on a pad of paper he'd brought with him for some reason I couldn't fathom.
"Thank you for allowing us to stay in your home while you're away," the woman said, still smiling (Did she ever stop?) "We just need to pack our things, then we can move in as soon as possible." She, the man, and the child stood up and left without speaking again.
As soon as they were gone, my father turned to me. "Were you planning to sleep all day?" he teased. "You were asleep for more than twelve hours. In fact, you broke your sleeping record."
"Sorry, Dad. I don't know why I slept that long. I really didn't mean to," I said. I really hadn't, though a small part of me thought that sleeping the rest of the day would get me out of going to that dreaded country. Sadly, the deal was made, and our plane was set to fly in about three hours. Plenty of time for me to prepare for departure. Finish preparing anyway.
"Well, go finish getting ready. We need to leave at a quarter to four, if we want to get a good spot on the plane," he said as he started up the stairs to grab his own luggage.
"Dad, I really don't think this-" a crash from upstairs cut me off. I rushed up the steps to my dad's bedroom and threw open the door. What I saw made me smack my palm to my forehead. My dad had five suitcases on top of him, his hand the only thing visible through the catastrophe.
"Lorena, is that you? Can you help me up please?" he asked, his voice muffled.
With a heavy sigh, I walked over and pulled him out of the tangled mess of bags. "Do you want me to carry some of them?" I asked.
"That would be much appreciated," he said, picking up a couple of them.
He handed them to me, and I had to keep from falling over. "God, Dad, what did you put in this thing?" I asked, accidentally dropping the other bag.
"It contains what we'll need for the house," he said. "Plus a tent, an air mattress, a first-aid kit, and books with commonly-used Romanian sayings."
I considered these unnecessary, but I didn't want to upset him so I just said, "All right. I'll help you carry them downstairs and to the car."
It took us three trips (four, if you count the one for my bag), but we finished everything without many issues. The trunk was filled to the brim with his suitcases and my large suitcase. At first the door to the trunk wouldn't budge, but I slammed it, slammed it so hard that my teeth chattered from the force, and it closed. Soon we were on the road to the airport that held the plane that would lead us to our home away from our new home.
I looked up at the sky: it betrayed me with its cotton-candy clouds of white and light-blue shading. This zealous atmosphere would not help with convincing my dad to abandon this idea of going back to that place. Maybe I should have just given up on convincing him. Maybe I was just being irrational because of that weird nightmare. Maybe I would actually have a great time.
I got into the passenger seat and strapped myself in. Closing the door, I propped my arm on the windowsill and expelled a tired sigh. Laying my head on the palm of my hand, I gazed out of the glass and up at the drifting, white puffs. They were slow but graceful, like dancers doing pirouettes across the sky.
After a few minutes, my dad spoke. "You never know, Lorena. It could be fun. Don't you remember what a great time you, Rae, and Elinor used to have?" he asked as I heard the rumble of the engine starting.
"Dad, that was ten years ago. Besides, they probably won't even recognize me. I look nothing like I did back then," I said. The last one was a lie; I had one of those faces that stayed, for the most part, the same no matter how much time passed. My hair was longer, but it still had that same dark color that Elinor used to be so fond of.
Neither of us said another word the entire car ride. He just continued driving, and I used the time to mope about the disaster waiting to happen. My mind wandered back to the man controlling the beasts in my dream. Had I seen that strange man before? Now that I thought about it, he did look vaguely familiar… but where would I have seen him?
A couple of minutes later, we arrived at the airport. The flight from California to Romania had a short line so we didn't have to wait very long. I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for the four families to move along so we could get this over with. However, a part of me was praying that the terminal would close before they were through.
Instead, each exchange was brief. There was no chit-chat between the clerk and his customers. He looked just as bored as that kid from yesterday, believe it or not. His face clearly read I can't wait until my shift is over. Not shocking, considering the fact that he looked about as old as me. Four dull "Thank you. Enjoy your flight"s later, we were standing in front of the clerk.
Desperate, I decided to try making conversation with the guy. I looked his uniform up and down, searching for something unique. His hair was a bland blond. No, that wouldn't do. His eyes were too boring of a brown to even think of commenting on. Bingo! I thought as I spotted a ring with a black gem in the shape of a bat. While I waited for my father to hand him the tickets, I tapped my feet lightly. Most of the time, it's a sign that my patience is thin. This time, however, it was to occupy myself until the right moment came.
"Tickets please," the teen said, holding out his hand.
Dad started to get out the tickets when I said, "I love your ring. Where did you get it?"
The guy looked shocked for a moment then responded with, "Just an old antique store down the street from my house. They sell a lot of cool items that people claim are "magically enhanced," you know? I don't really believe the rumors, but some people actually think they're true." He laughed at that and took the tickets from my dad.
"What do they say that one does?" I asked, pathetically stalling for precious seconds.
"They say it can draw bats to the wearer, but that's a load of bull. I've been wearing it ever since I bought it and haven't seen a single rat with wings near my house."
"How much do you know about magic items?" Momentarily forgetting my stalling, I was intrigued.
"I know more than most. I've devoted most of my free-time to collecting supposedly-magical trinkets and jewelry from any store I can find them. I can give you my number if you want to learn more about them."
"Yes, I'd like that a lot, actually," I said. "They fascinate me, too." Okay, the last one was a lie. So what? I was still curious as heck to find out what this guy knew.
No sooner than I said it did he get out a piece of paper and start scribbling digits onto it. He handed it to me, and I looked it over. His name was Aaron Samuels and below it was the number. I looked back up at him.
"Feel free to call any time you need to know about something… or, if you don't," he said, seeming kind of shy. Why was unknown to me.
"Ahem," I heard my dad say. "Lorena, we need to be leaving. We're going to miss the plane if we don't."
I stood there for a few moments, looking at the small tear of paper. Something started pulling me away and over to where the planes would be.
"Have a safe flight," I heard Aaron yell.
I glanced up from the paper to wave to him, trying my best to smile. Handing our luggage to the people who handled it, we boarded the plane. Both of us scanned the crowd to see if we could find two empty seats. Luckily, we found two that a couple just gave up. I guessed they realized they were on the wrong plane, because they seemed in a hurry to leave.
We settled into our seats. I placed that small piece of paper in my pocket for safekeeping and took out a book to read. It was about a wolf pup that got lost in the woods. The puppy had run away from his family because they'd eaten one of his friends: a bird with a silver tail and a torn wing. The bird couldn't fly so he'd taken it upon himself to keep it safe.
This was my mom's idea of a bedtime story for me. She wanted me to be fully aware of how the real world looked and to not be afraid to face unfamiliar foes. She'd told me that I should be prepared to lay my life on the line if another was at stake. The final piece of advice she gave me was to protect and to never attack unless someone attacked me first.
I threw the book back in my bag and curled up in a ball. Blinked a couple of times to keep my tears from falling onto my skirt. Thank goodness I wore leggings that day or everyone would see the waterworks I was trying to keep in.
"Are you okay, Lorena?" I heard my father ask as I felt someone touch my arm.
Quickly turning to face the window, I wiped my eyes. I turned back to my dad, putting on a fake smile that I attempted to make seem real. "Yeah, I'm fine. Can you ask the flight attendant about blankets, please?" I asked, uncurling myself like a cat waking up from a long, well-deserved nap.
"Sure," he said and called an attendant over. The attendant went away for a moment and came back with a blue blanket. She handed it to me and asked my father if we needed anything else. He said no, and she left to tend to someone else.
Spreading the blanket over me, I curled up into a ball. For a few moments, I stared at the clouds passing us by like white shadows in the darkness. I laid my head on my knees and reached under the blanket for the locket, panicking when I couldn't find it right away. However, I calmed down when I felt the cool metal touch my fingertips. Gently clasping it in my hand, I shut my eyes and soon fell into a slumber so deep that only a dragon's roar would be able to wake me.