"You can take a seat in the living room," Simone said as she hung her backpack on one of the racks next to the door. "I'll be in the kitchen."
Jack nodded, and watched her as she walked down the hall and under the archway on the right that must have lead to the kitchen. There was another archway across from it; that probably led to the living room. Down the hallway was a set of stairs that spiraled up to the next floor. He began to slowly walk down the hall, looking at the paintings and monuments on the wall. Light shot down from the skylights from above. The paintings were all beautiful, going from jungle landscapes to futuristic cities, each made with such precision and care.
Then the ornaments were...something else. He stopped beside a mantelpiece statue on top of an antique dresser, an obsidian carving of a centaur. Curious, he set his staff against the wall and picked it up. The stone was cool and smooth in his hands, each chiseled part molding into the next. It was intricately carved, the detail as realistic as can be.
"I'd appreciate if you'd put that down." He jumped at Simone's voice, and looked up to see her leaning against the archway. She had taken off her sweatshirt, and was wearing a white cottoned shirt with long sleeves that were now crossed over her chest. "It's my mother's favorite one, and I'd hate to see her face when she sees it in pieces on the carpet."
"Sorry," he muttered, setting it back down.
"It's okay, you didn't know." She unwrapped herself away from the arch and leaned back into the kitchen. She emerged with two mugs in her hand. Huh. She was polite, if anything. "Hot chocolate with whipped cream?" she offered, extending one of the mugs to him.
"Thanks." He slid his sleeves up to his fingers and took it tenderly. Smoke tendrils were escaping from the topping of whipped cream; he bent down and blew on it, then eagerly lapped up the creamy goodness. He glanced up to see Simone staring at him. He blushed, straightening his back. "Sorry."
She rolled her eyes, though there were flecks of amusement in them. "Come on." With a flick of her hand, she led him into the living room.
His eyes widened as he entered the room. The theme was obviously Victorian, from the elegant green couches with handmade crochet pillows and lavender armchairs to the lamps on nightstands next to them. Then there were the cabinets filled with ornaments against the wall with paintings right above them and the elegant mirror above the fireplace with the antique candelabras. Statues that mimicked the ancient Romans' stood on pedestals, their hands extending to the creme-colored silk curtains. Dear MiM, she's rich, he thought as he gazed around the living room.
"Go ahead and sit wherever you like, though I'd prefer it you sat on or near the couch with the Atlantean characters on the pillows, so that I don't have to strain my voice or ears while we're talking. They're weak enough as it is."
"Atlantean characters?" He glanced down at the couch nearest to him, then noticed that the little stitches on the front of one of the velvet pillows curved into little symbols. One, in the exact middle, almost seemed to glow at him. He stared at it, then shook his head and sat down next to it. It was very soft, the fabric nice and cushiony.
"That's not a word," she sighed as she sat down in the armchair next to him, setting down her mug on the nightstand. He looked up, startled, but didn't say anything. "It's dark in here," she frowned, and raised her right hand, then, ever so slightly, flicked it. Jack glanced up just in time to see the candles in the crystal chandelier flicker with flames that weren't there before. Just then, he heard a sudden crackle. By the time he looked down, the fireplace was roaring, the flames crackling merrily. Holy crap, she's a firestarter.
She leaned back in her seat and looked at him, her arms crossing back over her chest. Her eyes didn't seem so grey anymore; they almost seemed like a shade of green. They regarded Jack wearily. "What do you want?" she said finally.
He hesitated. This could go badly if he said the wrong thing. Dude, YOLO, remember? he reminded himself. He said boldly, "I want to know."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna have to be a little bit more specific."
"Why did you lie to me?" he demanded. "You said that you had to stay in the Land of the Dead."
"And I was telling the truth. I had to stay there until you had gone."
"But you implied that you had already died."
She shrugged. "Miscommunication on your part. Any more questions?"
He gaped her, then groaned. She was just as difficult as last time. He glanced at her, then spotted the necklace around her neck, the crystal pendant- identical to his- nestling underneath her collarbone. It was glowing faintly a cobalt. He looked back up to see her watching him. "So you really are an Atlantean?"
"If you mean Atlantean as in I am of or like the Titan called Atlas, then no, though I have heard that my strength is rather astronomical. If you mean was I born in the Atlantic, that's a no, too. I was born in San Francisco, which, if you haven't heard, is right next to the Pacific. But if you're asking if I am from the underwater city of Atlantis-" she picked up her mug and began to swirl the spoon- "then yes."
"But you just said that you were born in San Francisco-" he began to protest.
She held her hand up. "Just because I was born in San Francisco doesn't mean that the Atlantean blood in me doesn't run as strongly as if I was born in Atlantis." She paused. "Have you ever read the Mortal Instruments series? By Cassandra Clare?"
"No, but I've read the Infernal Devices." He wondered where this was going.
"Well, remember how they talk about how, no matter what, Idris will always be a Shadowhunter's home? No matter where they were born?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, it's like that with us. And it's the same thing with genetics, too. Atlantean blood is always dominant."
"Oh." He nodded, understanding. "So...I heard you just moved here?"
She frowned. "I keep on forgetting that you're one-hundred-and-twenty-one years old. and that time probably passes fast for you. You only look eighteen."
"Thank you."
"I've actually been in Burgess for over a year now, and not by choice," she added.
"You don't seem to like it here," he observed, though from what, he didn't know.
"Of course not. It's...too small here." She sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, I'm a city girl at heart. Hard not to when you were raised in a bustling city. I mean, I love going and sleeping in the woods, hunting and being able to sleep under the starry sky. But I want to be in a place where a thousand hearts are beating in the night, the sound of a thousand lives going on at once. I like solitude and I like my privacy, but there's something...quiet in the sound of chaos." She hesitated. "I know it doesn't make sense. But it's how I feel. When we went to Atlantis for the weekend- which we still do- it just always seemed like we were going to a vacation home. Don't get me wrong, Atlantis is my home, but it's my dream home. San Francisco was-"
"-Was your reality," he finished.
She nodded. The longing for her home in her voice was obvious. Jack had felt it before, whenever he had stayed away from Burgess for too long. But the difference was that he could always go back whenever he wanted. He suspected that the case wasn't the same with her. "But Burgess is like neither. I live on the countryside in Atlantis, while I lived in the heart of San Francisco. This isn't either one. It's like the worst of both worlds. But I've been to places where it's the worst of both worlds. Mendocino* for one. The difference is that Mendocino had beautiful sunsets on beaches and the people were friendly."
He raised an eyebrow. "The people here aren't friendly?"
"I don't ever recall setting my textbooks on fire and ripping my notes being friendly," she said wryly.
"Wait, what?"
"My freshman year at Burgess High, when I was the only one out of all my classmates to receive a 4.0 in all of my honors classes in the first trimester, a bunch of douche-bags in my grade broke into my locker and set everything on fire."
"Didn't you tell someone?"
"I did. They were suspended and taken to Juvenile Hall. They have proceeded to make my life miserable ever since. Shoving me into the wall, ganging up on me in Physical Ed, going into my locker and ripping up my notes, ensuring nobody ever wanted to talk to me." Her voice was bitter, her eyes returning to a stormy gray.
"Or be your friend." Where did that come from?
She glanced up at him. "Are you using the bond?" she asked suspiciously.
"The bond?"
"Sorry, I keep on forgetting that you thought I was dead for two years."
"You seem to forget a lot of things," he accused.
She ignored him. "Have you ever had brief flashes where you thought you heard someone else in your head lately? Any- odd emotions?" Now that he thought about it, there actually had been. Not so often to where he thought it was odd, but they did happen. He nodded. "That might have been me," she confessed.
"What? How could that be you?" he demanded.
In response, she picked up the crystal pendant between two fingers, her eyes locked on his. "These are usually given to Atlantean newborns. It's rare when an outside get's one. And it's often because they are the reincarnation of an ancestor that was. We don't give it to them on purpose," she added to his unspoken question. "Fate just...carries the necklace to them."
"But I don't get it. How are we 'connected'?"
She tilted her head to the side, apparently deliberating how much she should tell them. "Along with the power of the Source, our...souls are carried in the crystal. We carry it there because then we have a stronger sense of who we are, which is a big thing in Atlantis. Self-realization is very important. Having who we are out in the open makes it easier to recognize old friends and...soul mates. The reason that we're connected is that our souls have met before, and made a powerful connection in our past lives."
Oh snowballs. "So...you and me...we were-?"
"I don't know." She shrugged nonchalantly, although her cheeks seemed more red than brown. "It's possible, though I seriously doubt it. It could just mean that we made a serious impact on each other's lives. I know a couple of people who are bonded who are just best friends, or even like brother and sister to each other. And it doesn't have to be a guy and a girl. It can be two guys or two girls, and they can choose whether to have a romantic relationship or a friendly one. I assume we'll try and stick to 'casual acquaintances', since you already have a girlfriend and your mere presence seems to annoy me to no end," she said wryly.
"But I haven't done anything," he protested.
She shrugged again. "Don't blame me. I have no quarrel with you."
Jack gaped at her. "But then-?"
"I don't. But she does."
"Who's she?"
"There's this voice that's always in my head. Always whispering to me. Always telling me to do things. Like wear lots of clothing or to avoid a certain area, avoid saying certain things. Telling me off on thinking and wondering about certain things. Avoid talking to you," she added. "I saw no harm in it, so I did."
Jack stared at her. Holy snowflakes, she's insane.
"I am not insane!" she exclaimed.
"Wait, you heard that?"
"Yes, one of the perks of being bonded," she spat, her tone suddenly hostile. Oh boy, he thought, sensing the storm breaking. "Being able to hear and see the other's thoughts, though I have to say, thinking about snowstorms and Toothiana's feathers aren't all that exciting," she sneered.
"Whoa, whoa, who put ice down your back?"
She gritted her teeth. "I have been called 'insane' and 'weird' almost all of my life. By my classmates, my therapists and counselors, my own family." She glared at him. "I don't need to be called it by you."
"Alright!" he exclaimed. "I won't call you insane anymore."
Simone raised an eyebrow. "Proameeseh?"
"What?"
"Promise?"
He stared at her. Her eyes were wide, pleading. She really wasn't kidding. Then again, why would she? Looking back on it now, it didn't seem so hard to believe. The shoving and pushing in the courtyard as if there was no one there, her angst in the band room, when Jamie had brushed her off as a 'nobody' and a 'loser'. You can almost feel the weirdness coming off of her. But he couldn't feel any weirdness. He felt resentment, and pain. He wondered if she had always been so bitter and hostile. During the brief moments that she had smiled, had allowed bits of herself to come out, he had caught a glimpse of someone that he would admire, really like, even, only for it to be washed away by the fact that everybody thought that her mind should be locked up and stored away.
What must it feel like? he wondered. To be told that their mind was diseased and abnormal, to be ridiculed and cast out for a different way of thinking?
Like hell. The thoughts were not his own, but for once, he knew whose it was. Simone tilted her head to the side, wisps of her hair falling into her eyes. Her eyes weren't gray anymore, but a deep blue. They stared into Jack's imploringly, beseeching him for his promise.
Jack nodded. "I swear."
She relaxed, and rested against the armchair. "Thank you, Jack. Do you have any other questions?"
"Uh yeah. What else can we do, since we're connected or whatever?"
"Well, we can draw on each other's strengths and powers. Remember back in Hohenzollern Castle, when I filled your chi paths? They're the paths that lead the energy to do what you can do through your body," she explained to his blank face. "And not just that, but the electric pulses that get to do simple things, like moving and speaking. Which means that I can do this."
Without a warning, he felt tiny twinges in his right, before he suddenly felt it jerk up. He looked over at her in shock just as his other arm went up. "Hey!" he exclaimed. His legs moved without permission, making him stand up. "Stop that!"
Her eyes glittered with amusement. "As you wish." With a gasp, he felt tingles run through his body again before collapsing back on to the couch. "We can also feel each other's emotions. We can even influence the other person with our own, if they're strong enough."
"So I could make you cheerful and happy all the time?" he suggested.
"Not if I have my wall up."
"Your wall?"
"My mental wall. It cuts off the connection from your end, though it's a bit difficult to see what you're up to from mine. It's how I've been able to keep you from finding out about me, though it get's harder and harder the closer we're together. You could probably go in right now, though I don't advise it."
"How come?"
"It's like the rapids before the waterfall," she informed. "You'll be swept up and tossed over the edge before you'll even know what happened."
He chuckled. "I believe that. Um, another question?"
She shrugged as she curled her legs underneath her. "Shoot."
"Why do you look so different? From- when we first met?"
"Different how?"
"Your hair, for one. And your eyes, too, I guess. They aren't white and blue anymore."
"The reason why is because I'm not in Atlantis, or using the Source's power. When I'm doing either, though, the pigments in my hair and eyes are taken away, as small payment for the Atlantean power flowing through my veins." She shrugged again. "I don't mind. I don't really like my hair color."
"Because you look so much like me?" he teased.
She rolled her eyes. "As if I would want to look like you. Anything else?"
He wondered if he should bring up her sickly appearance, then decided against it. She hadn't hit him yet, but he could feel that she was already itching for the chance. "Where is everybody?" he asked, looking around at the huge, yet empty house.
"My mom's at work, my brothers and sister are still at school, and I don't know where my father is- or care."
"You don't like your dad?" he guessed.
"He hates me. He wishes I was never born."
"Aw, come on. You don't know that."
"He said it to my face," she said flatly.
"Oh."
"Yep. Guess it has to do with the fact that my mom would rather be with someone who's dead than with him."
"Your mom was into necromancy?" he joked.
She didn't seem to be amused. "My dad, my real dad was a mermaid- well, half, anyway- and my mom's best friend. They met when she was fourteen and he was sixteen, and around fifteen they started to date each other. Everything was all fine and happy until the Battle of Tundra Bay, where he died defending Mom. Then the Source decided that he could be some use to Atlantis still, and decided to turn him into a spirit, like how you are."
"Except I don't have a tail."
She nodded. "He's the Guardian of Tundra Bay now. He and my mother kept close contact afterwards, even when she married my father. Thing is, turns out that my father was an absolute jerk to her, and still is. So she went to my dad, probably a few times, and I-" she gestured at herself- "was the product."
His head was beginning to hurt. "Okay, so- two questions. Why did your mom stay with him if he was such a jerk, and how did they have you?"
"Atlantis has strict laws on marriage. They take that whole 'til death do we part' very seriously. Now, normally, that's not a problem. People find their soul mates easily and get married and are happy for all of eternity. But my father..." She bit her lip. "I don't think he has a soul. My mom won't tell me for sure, but he doesn't have a necklace. That only happens if you're truly empty inside, void of any true feelings or anything. And some people are like that. But he was such a good liar that my mother couldn't tell." She shrugged. "And for how I was born, aren't you and Tooth trying to have a baby?"
A blue blush spread across his cheeks. "How do you know that?" he demanded.
"Speaking of which, you'd better start getting ready for that appointment tonight," she added, standing up. "The sun's about to set soon."
He glanced at the windows. She was right; the clouds outside barely masked the sun that was steadily approaching the horizon. "I guess you're right. But- how did you know?" he asked again.
"I've been keeping tabs on you." Simone walked out the room and began to jog upstairs.
"Wait, what?" He quickly downed his mug, ignoring the blistering burns on his tongue, then hurried after her. "How have you been keeping tabs on me?" he demanded, flying up to the landing between the second and first floor.
"The bond," she said simply as she passed him and continued up the stairs.
"So you've been spying on me," he accused.
"Not spying. Checking up on you," she corrected. "Making sure you haven't gotten into trouble. Or worse, lead Pitch back to Atlantis."
"Because he'd get the most powerful source of energy in the universe?" he guessed as he landed next to her on the second floor.
"Pretty much, yeah." She walked down the hallway, which was suspended above the ground below, and opened the door at the end of the walkway. She was about to walk in when she caught herself. "Forgive me, I forgot my manners. Would you like to come in?" she asked, gesturing to the door.
He raised an eyebrow at her suspiciously. "What room is it?"
"My room. And I'm not jesting," she added.
Who says jesting anymore? he wondered.
"I thought you would, seeing as you're from the eighteenth century."
He rolled his eyes as he walked inside, then gasped. "Whoa...you...like red, don't you?"
Like was an understatement. Everywhere he looked, different shades of red splashed against every bit of furniture. Rose-red dresser, blood-red bed, violet-red lamps, brick-red bookcases, dusty-red desk, sunset-red chairs, even lobster-red carpet. Oh, the room looked ordinary enough, the models of the furniture modest- except for the four-poster bed, but it was just so red. The only different colors he could find was the books in the bookcase, and the murals on the wall of a sunset over the water under a soft pink and baby blue sky.
"It's the color of fire and blood," she said simply as she walked by him and sat down in one of the armchairs.
"Ah, yes, blood. Man's best friend. But couldn't you have put in some blue or purple or even green?" he asked.
"Purple is the illegitimate child of red and blue," she said flatly.
Wut?
"My bathroom's blue and green, though, if you want to check it out. Besides, I leave all of the colors to the garden. You can check it out when you leave."
"Right..." Jack sat down on the bed and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyelids, the red beginning to hurt his eyes. "So, does this come from being a pie-roh, piro-"
"Pyrokinetic?" she guessed. "Yeah, I guess. But to be honest, I've always like red. And blue, too, don't get me wrong," she added. "Blue is soft and gentle, like the ocean. Lovely and ferocious in its own time. But there's something about red that just...draws me, like a moth to a flame. I can't explain how or why. It just is."
"Have you always been one?" he asked curiously.
"Yes and no. It developed as I grew up into an actual power. Most Atlanteans develop their powers at around ten or eleven. I was about twelve, but all of them haven't come to me yet."
"All of them? But you're already, like, super powerful and stuff!"
"No, I'm just very well-practiced at it for my age. Most don't until they're about sixteen."
"And you are-?"
"Fifteen."
"But two years ago- all that stuff you did at the castle-"
She held up her hand, and he stopped. "All I did was turn into a griffon, and drag Pitch down into the fiery depths. Besides, I still need to find out what my second affinity is, and master flying. Neither, I'm afraid," she sighed, "is as possible as the Raiders winning the Super Bowl this year."
"You can't fly?" he asked.
"Not well. I'm scared of heights," she confessed, "and being up so high while training always terrifies me so much that I change back. And almost fall to my death."
"I could help you," he offered. "Actually, I have a friend who trains with dragons. He's probably more familiar with the whole wing-movement and tail and stuff than I am. I'm sure I could get him to help you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Why would you want to help me?"
He shrugged. "Why not?" When she didn't reply, he continued. "Look, you saved the Guardians from Pitch. If you haven't noticed, that kinda means we're in your debt."
"Right." There was disappointment in her voice. Jack was confused. What was she disappointed about? "Well, I'd rather spend my time on working on my other affinity. Fire is an extremely uncommon affinity in Atlantis, after Earth. It's usually Water and Wind, though sometimes people get Water and Earth."
"Why not Fire and Water?" he asked curiously. "Or Earth and Wind?"
"That's saying you have two personalities that are the same but completely different."
"That...doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly. It's based on who you are deep down. Most Atlanteans are like water, calm and mellow until the storm comes and all hell breaks loose. It's almost the same for those with Wind, except they don't like to fight, while Earth is eager for it."
"And those with fire?"
"Are dangerous," she said darkly. "Mentally and physically. Or, at least-" she drew her knees up o her chest-"so I've been told."
"But you don't believe that."
"I don't like to believe that I'm a threat to everyone, no," she said wryly. "But I also read a book, that gave very clear descriptions of the personality of each affinity. It said nothing about all Fires being destructive and damaging. And when you think about it, any affinity could be destructive and damaging. Tornadoes, earthquakes, and hurricanes. Hurricanes are the product of Wind and Water, the most 'harmless' elements!" she exclaimed. "A hurricane can case so much more destruction than Fire can!"
Not knowing what to say, he just nodded.
She sighed, standing up. "I can tell I'm beginning to bore you. You can head out to meet Tooth now, if you want."
"No, no, you're not boring me," he said quickly. "It's- it's just a lot to take in. All of these affinities and Atlantean stuff. Everything's just...so complicated."
"My life is complicated," she said simply as she opened the door to her room. "Comes with its perks, but at times..." She hesitated, then shook her head.
"At times, what?"
"Nothing. Just being ridiculous. You can leave now." The last sentence she said was sharp, almost impatient.
"And just when I thought that we were bonding," he teased, standing up and walking over to her.
"I've had enough of your mind for the past two years," she said flatly.
He frowned as he stopped at the doorway. "You're doing it again," he complained.
"Doing what?" she snapped.
"Becoming a grouch. Come on, don't you ever smile?" Without thinking, he reached in to pull her into a hug, which always made Tooth smile, no matter how angry she was at him. Just when his hand closed around her wrist, the world swirled around him, air flying through his hair, and before he knew it, he was on the ground with one arm pinned beneath him and the other held above his head, a crooked blade with a leather handle pressed against his throat.
Her eyes were black as coal as she crouched over him. He felt a jolt of fear when he looked into her eyes. "Don't you ever touch me again," Simone hissed.
"Got it," he gasped.
The darkness in her eyes suddenly faded away, to be replaced with confusion. Jack didn't know why, but he suddenly had a strong feeling that she hadn't meant to do that. She released her grip on him, and he sat upwards, rubbing the skin around his wrist. There was an awkward pause before Jack decided to say something. "Where'd you get the knife from?" he asked as he stood up.
"Dauða? I have an arm sheath for her." She pulled up her sleeve to show an elaborately-made sheath made out of some sort of reptilian hide wrapped around her forearm. It was tight enough so that it wouldn't bulge in her shirt. "I have one on both arms. Then I always keep one in my sock as a backup." She lifted her sweatpants' leg to show the same type of sheath around her ankle, a bone handle barely bulging out of the case.
"Let me get this straight. You keep weapons in your socks?"
"Yep."
"And when you go to school? Nobody notices them?" he demanded.
"Nope."
"What about when you wear short-sleeved shirts or shorts?"
"I don't wear short sleeves or shorts."
"But- what about when it get's hot? And you're sweating and you're all icky and stuff?"
"I ignore it."
"What? You don't have to carry a weapon around everywhere you go-"
"That's not the reason."
"What? Do you have really bad acne?"
"No."
"Eczema?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Wait, are you one of those girls who feel really insecure about their body and try to cover it up?"
"No- well, yes, but that's not-"
"Do you have-"
"JACK!" she shouted, and he finally shut up. She exhaled in annoyance, then lifted her shirt sleeve again, this time to the shoulder. He almost jumped back in shock. Along her bicep and the places where the sheath didn't cover up her skin, were dark jagged ridges along her skin. Raised scars covered most of her arm. They were almost disgusting to look at. Some looked as if they had taken a knife and slashed it across her arm. Most looked as if something had dug its teeth into her. "We have wars in Atlantis. Not just Pitch wants the Source," she said flatly, shaking down her sleeve, avoiding looking him in the eye. "It's our job to keep them from getting it. I don't appreciate it when I get gawked at for doing my duty."
"Oh. Well, sorry. I didn't know."
She seemed to relax a little bit, the tension in her shoulders leaving. But so much more left, he thought. Did she ever really relax?
Simone glanced at the window outside. The sun already under the horizon, faint streaks of orange tinging the sky pink and faint violet. "It's getting late. Come on, let me walk you to the door."
He didn't protest, and they jogged down the stairs together. Or, rather, she jogged and he slid down the banister. She opened the front door as he landed beside her, and nodded at him as he walked past the threshold. "Bye."
"Bye. Wait!"
She groaned. "What?"
"One last question?" he pleaded.
She rolled her eyes. "Fine."
"What was that thing you said, outside of the school?"
"Panneb le nen?" she said. The way she said it reminded him of a Native American language. "It's old Atlantean. It means 'you are knowing' or, more simply, 'you know'."
"That I know what?"
"About me," she said simply.
"Oh. Got it. Uh, hey, Simone?"
"Hmm?" She leaned against the door and crossed her arms.
"Could I come back tomorrow?"
"Why on Earth would you want to come back?"
He shrugged. "Curiosity."
Her eyes glittered. "Curiosity killed the cat, remember?"
"Well, then it's a good thing I'm a dog," he joked.
She exhaled irritably. "I'm not even gonna be here tomorrow, anyway. I go to Atlantis every weekend. I won't be back until Monday morning."
"Can I come then?"
She glanced at him, then sighed. "I guess so. I have nothing to do after school anyway."
"Then it's a date."
"No. It's not." And with that, she slammed the door in his face.
He blinked. What was that all about? he wondered as he walked down the steps.
Just mind your own business and go to the statue.
This was supposed to be a longer chapter, including Tooth and Jack's visit to the magic baby doctor, but it was taking too long. Don't worry, though, it'll be in the next chapter.
*Mendocino is a small town about 155 miles North of San Francisco. Beautiful place there. If you live in California, totally recommend a vacation up there during the whale season. :D