Chapter 1: Exposition of the Blondes

Rebecca

"At this time we would ask all passengers to please turn off all cell phones, pagers, and any other transmitting devices."

"That means you." I told my best friend without looking up from the book I was reading.

"Just one more text!" She protested, typing as fast as her thumbs would go. There was a triumphant plinking noise as her sidekick sent out the text off to into the airwaves. She spun the screen down into its closed position covering the keyboard and then switched off the phone. "There."

"How's Tay-tay?" I asked with a smirk as I closed my book and slid it under my seat. The plane was about ready for take-off, my favorite part (aside from landing) of any plane ride.

Nikki shot me a menacing glare and then sighed. "Taylor is horribly, horribly depressing. I swear sometimes that boy is PMS'ing. And I think he likes me."

I laughed. "I wonder why. You only send him about a hundred texts a day."

"Please. It's at least two hundred."

"Oh, my apologies." I feigned a sad look.

"That's quite alright." Nikki gave me a condescending nod, showing how she had deigned to forgive me my transgression. I grinned. "But really, I think he likes me. And he's getting annoying." She pouted and I laughed.

It was easy to see how a boy would fall for Nikki without her really trying. She was a happy, bubbly people-person. She had a presence that just invited people to come to her and unless you were talking to her in the morning, she always had an excited air about her that made you feel like you were the only person she wanted to talk to at that particular moment. And if her personality and poise wasn't enough she had been blessed with a talent for fashion, keeping her impossibly bright blonde hair in a beautifully flared close-cut and brandishing all the newest styles on her tall California-tanned body.

Not that she was always nice and understanding. Quite the contrary. You never messed with Nicolette Marie Peggan and came out unscathed. Sometimes I wondered if certain ex-boyfriends had actually been institutionalized for post-traumatic stress. I figured Taylor was going to meet with the harsh I-couldn't-care-less side of her soon enough. He was getting clingy, and she was getting bored. She'd drop him soon enough and he wouldn't know what double-decker bus had hit him.

"Are we going to have a Ben again?" I asked, smiling.

She laughed. "Probably."

Ben had been her friend for a month or so. Then she had gotten bored of him and decided one day to cut off all communication with him. It was kind of sad. Ben had gotten over it quickly though and I at least was still friends with him.

"Please be sure your seats are in the upright position and your tray tables are up." The stewardess called over the intercom. I needlessly rechecked my seatbelt because I felt like the intercom message deserved some sort of response.

The plane vibrated slightly as the engines started up. The hulking metal mass of modern-engineering began to move down the runway. Normally I would have been more excited, but this was our third take off in the last twelve hours. It would be the last one for a while, which was bitter-sweet for me.

Not that I was disappointed our very long travels would be over, just that we were a step closer to our destination. I was always full of an anxious mix of dread and half-formed hope on the way to meet a new doctor. And besides, this plane ride was going to be over ocean. The view from the window would get really boring, really fast.

Nikki and I raised our hands as the plane picked up speed, pretending we were on a roller coaster. The passengers around us either gave us odd looks or laughed and joined in. My brother had gotten seated somewhere out of my field of vision, but I assumed he was doing the same thing. He was cool like that. We cheered as the plane lifted from the ground and soared away. We laughed and waited for the attendants to announce that we could pick from the many available movies. There was a nifty touch-screen installed in the back of the headrest in front of me.

I watched the east coast of the United States speeding away behind us and then shut the window-cover, feeling a slight pang of homesickness. I shoved it away quickly. This was an incredible opportunity. I had the chance to go to England, with my best friend no less. My stomach clenched and my hand balled into a fist at the sudden pain. It was the only outward sign of the pain I gave. It had been six long months of pain and sickness, and I was well acquainted to my body's reminders of its condition. Usually it was just a constant dull pain that I could ignore, but every four hours or so it would jab me with some sort of metaphorical sickly knife. I silently told it to shut up. Regardless of why I was going, it was still going to be fun. Some stupid unknown disease was not going to ruin it for me.

I opened up the movie menu and gave a wry smile. I nudged Nikki and pointed to the screen, "Should brush up on our English history. Wives of Henry the Eighth or Queen Elizabeth?"

She laughed. "Like you need that, Miss I got a four on the AP European History exam."

I shrugged. "A four isn't a five. Clearly I was missing something." I grinned and decided to go with Queen Elizabeth. It would probably be overdramatized and full of fallacies, but what was history for if not to be retold in fallacitical ways? With my newly coined word in mind I slipped the earphones over my ears and settled back in my seat.

Nicolette

I snuck glances at Becky to see how she was doing. Her gastro-intestinal (wasn't that just an awful word?) doctor had recommended she see this obscure person in Europe about her illness. He had already had her do every test in the book and with every one coming up negative he couldn't do much besides pass her on to another expert. He was apparently friends with this English expert, a Doctor James Ontari, and contacted him. The doctor had offered to pay for her transportation to see him and got passage for three people.

Becky's parents couldn't come because they couldn't afford to take the time off of work, no matter how much they wanted to. Personally I think Becky had some say in this, because I know they would have dropped everything to help her. Being the loving parents they were, Mr. and Mrs. Nils hadn't wanted to send their youngest child to the other hemisphere by herself. Adam had worked up enough vacation time at his job in Virginia to be able to go, so he had offered.

Her other brother (the middle child), Victor, was supposed to go as well so she wouldn't be making the flight from California to Virginia alone but a spot in the college of his dreams had opened up and it was a "grab it now or lose it" sort of thing, so Becky suggested that Victor go to school and that I take the extra ticket.

There had been a lot of negotiations to go through to allow my parents to let me go, but Adam was a responsible adult and Becky wouldn't let me get into too much trouble. In my best friend's time of need it was only right for me to be there to support her.

So here we were, the Terrific Trio: Rebecca, Nicolette, and Adam; heading to unknown lands to fight evil.

Becky and I had both agreed that we needed a better team name, but that would do until we were actually sitting with Adam and could effectively collaborate.

I saw Becky's hand clench and heard the sharp intake of breath. Most people would not have noticed this, since except for her frown Becky looked like her normal self, but I was not most people. I had known Becky as long as I had been alive and she was like my adopted sister. I was more practiced than most people in noticing her discomforts.

She wasn't particularly tall, a contrast to her behemoth brothers. She had always been slim, and some days I would stare enviously at her thin but curved figure. Despite her unfair skinny-ness, she was nicely muscled, a result of growing up with two tough older brothers. Becky was strong and that was probably the only reason she wasn't completely bedridden by this point. She had beautiful blonde hair that, when not in the French braid her mom had put it in before they left, reached far below her shoulder blades. Besides her figure (which was becoming less a point of envy for me so much as a concern, sickness had made her even thinner and her translucent skin even paler), Becky's eyes were something I wish I had. They were a pretty grey-blue, the shade shifting depending on the lighting and her clothes. I had boring brown eyes, like the color of dirt. It was lame. I liked to think I lived the life of a blue-eyed blonde vicariously through my friend, and I loved watching her take her contacts out.

Aside from Becky's stomach problems she had something called Irlen Syndrome. All the kids in her family have it. I didn't understand it really well but it had something to do with light and the nerves in her eyes being timed wrong or something. In any case she needed a specific color over her eyes to line up the nerve times correctly and used blue paper. Her contacts were specially colored and they made her eyes slightly darker. When she took them out her eyes suddenly shone with this incredible light blue. I'm more than a little jealous in these moments.

This particular jolt of pain apparently faded because she opened up the menu like any normal person. I chose not to mention it. She generally preferred that anyhow. Becky was incredibly excited about going to England, and so was I. No need to damper that excitement by reminding her about their visit to yet another doctor.

I turned my attention to my own screen and picked some romantic comedy. Several hours later, and several "Why the heck is this stupid continent so far away!?"'s we landed in England.

We collected Adam and our baggage and took the subway to our hotel. By this point I was exhausted and Becky was way too excited to be on the "London Underground." She told me I hadn't read enough English literature to be properly exuberant and so she would be doubly excited for me.

She can be so silly sometimes.

There was a bit of a walk from the subway station to our hotel, so Becky and I walked behind Adam. His bulk cleared a path in front of us. He was only a few inches over six feet, but his broad shoulders and brawny body gave him the illusion of being so much bigger. I was kind of scared of him when I was little but now I think he's fantabulous. He's a sweet guy, and while the long blonde hair and red beard make him look very rough-and-tumble he'd never hurt anyone if he could help it. I suppose the dark sunglasses don't help with the image, but Adam can discuss tractors and football just as easily as he can compare the various film versions of 'Pride and Prejudice'. And you would not believe how crazy he can dance, like this guy is like the king of the dance floor.

And he's got freakin' blue eyes too. That family's too lucky with their genes.

"You two stay with the bags, I'll go and check in." Becky and I flopped on the couches in the entry way. Becky's hair was starting to pull from the braid, the shorter pieces making a stringy halo around her face. She had closed her eyes. She had unconsciously slipped one hand under her several layers of clothes (We had stepped off the plane only to have our delicate Californian sensibilities assaulted by the English November) to lay on her stomach. She did this a lot.

"Hey Becky!" I called. She didn't respond, apparently lost on some foreign train of thought. "Becky? Rebecca Lynne Nils!"

She jumped at the use of her full name and glanced up at me. "Yes?"

"Becky, you look like you're trying to feel someone kicking." This startled a laugh out of her and I grinned.

She sobered pretty quickly though. "It helps. Sort of. I think putting my hand where it hurts helps ease the pain so it does." She shrugged. "Like the sugar pill thing."

"Do sugar pills help?"

Becky smiled sadly. "I wish."

"Dang. Hey Adam. Did you get our penthouse suite?" Adam had walked up while we were talking.

"Even better. I got mints."

My eyes got really wide and I leapt up from my seat. "Oh my gosh! I want one!"

Adam laughed and tossed me and Becky each a mint and then handed us our key-cards. He then picked up most of the bags. I took most of the rest and we left Becky with her own backpack and Adam's laptop case. She must have been really tired because she didn't protest her lack of baggage.

The clerk at the desk watched us enter the elevator. He was staring intently at Becky. He was pretty cute, as far as hotel clerks went. I nudged my friend and whispered in her ear. "Somebody likes you."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"No really. In his head he's thinking about how to get you alone and make his move." I nodded earnestly, giving her my most wide-eyed innocent look. "You should run out and get his number."

The elevator doors closed and he was out of sight. Becky shook her head. "He's probably some rapist kidnapper who will take me to China and sell me to the emperor."

"China's a communist country. There's no emperor." Adam put in, his half-smile showing how amused he was at our conversation.

"So?" Becky retorted. "He will take me back in time and sell me to the emperor. Then he'll hide the money and go to the future where it will have aged and be worth fifty times as much."

This was my favorite part of conversations with Becky. She loved taking absurd ideas and extending them to impossible levels. It was what made her so good in our magic elective class, she had no problem analyzing ludicrous spell ideas and making them so unbelievably ridiculous that they actually worked.

Becky and I are both magic users. Shamans, mages, wizards, witches… the title changes depending on what area you're in. In Southern California we typically go by 'casters' cause you know, we cast spells. You head up to Northern California and they call themselves mages. It's really all the same thing.

Anyway we have all the normal classes everyone else has: History, Math, English, Science, Elective, and Physical Education. Then we have our separate magic classes that are held on a college campus. There are three basic classes every caster takes: Magical Theory, Potions, and Magical Application. Then you have your fourth class which is an elective of your choice. Becky and I were in a class called 'Innovative Casting and Specialization' more commonly known as 'The Slacker Class for people who couldn't get into an advanced spellwork class.'

You get weird people in that class and it took a while for it to grow on Becky, but she got there and is now excelling. The basic premise of the class is that we experiment with alterations of existing spells and come up with new ones. It sounds challenging, but the people that take this class are all the people that are either too high to be allowed in another class or have a rather unnerving appreciation for explosions. And then there's Becky and me. Becky was getting some sort of digestive-system scan at registration and I slept in. So we got stuck with wherever there was space left.

We got to our room and settled down for bed. Becky took a shower before bed, trying to tame the curly poofy mess that was her hair outside the braid and slipped into the queen sized bed next to me. Adam had a bed to himself, cause he was a boy and was just that big.

Before the jetlag fully set in and we all collapsed in exhaustion I told Becky she should get the guy's number in the morning. Adam agreed saying, "You never know. He could be your soul mate. Besides, going on a date in England would be totally awesome. I think you should do it."

Becky groaned. Adam wasn't one of those over-protective brothers that attacked any boy interested in his baby sister. He was generally of the opinion that if someone wasn't treating his sister right, she should be allowed to make the first punch. He came home every Christmas with grand plans for the two of them to go on a double date.

Becky pulled a pillow over her head as Adam and I planned her wedding.

Clerk

Adam might have been right to be a bit more protective of his sister, and less interested in her future with the clerk because as the elevator closed and lifted the three Americans up several stories the he had hastily left the building to run into an alley along its side. He pulled a long stick out of his jacked and rolled up his sleeve, exposing a black tattoo of a skull and snake. He touched the tip of the stick to his and muttered softly.

The tattoo flashed green for a moment and then the clerk stood alone in the alley anxiously peering around. Despite the chill he wiped sweaty palms on his pant legs.

"What do you want?" Growled a voice behind him. The anxious boy jumped and spun around. "This had better be important."

The cloaked figure wore a skull mask that obscured the features of the man in front of him, but the clerk knew this man well, and all the threats he had made. The clerk had no doubts that every single one would be carried out if he failed to do as he was bid.

"Y-you told me to t-tell you if a R-Rebecca Nils came to stay here. H-her brother signed in today. T-they're in room 30B, on the f-fourth floor." He was shaking now, from fright and not cold.

The man in front of him was silent for a long moment. The clerk rubbed his hands together in a distracted, twitchy way.

"Are you certain?" The gravelly voice asked.

"Y-yes." The clerk's voice rose in pitch. "I saw her. She-she's exactly as you described, sir."

"Excellent. The Dark Lord will be pleased."

The Clerk let out a nervous, almost-hysterical chuckle. "I-I'm so glad! D-Do you, do you think I c-can go home now?"

"Not just yet." The cloaked man extended a hand and placed it on the clerk's shoulder. The clerk flinched as if the hand burned him. "Keep your post. I will tell you when it is time."

"Y-yes sir." The Clerk responded before scrambling back down the alley.

The cloaked man grinned underneath his mask. This was excellent. Everything was as the Dark Lord said. They would have the girl soon and the plan could go forward. He chuckled darkly. There was a loud pop of air rushing to fill the space the death eater had just filled. He left to inform his master of the good new news.

Totally unaware of the plots surrounding her, the blonde girl fell asleep in her hotel room on the fourth floor, the only worry on her mind being that she would lose control and burst into tears if Dr. Ontari proved to be just as unhelpful as the doctors back home.