I apologize for getting this chapter out so late. I was out of town...and then I was back...and then things went insane. But everything's lovely now. Ahem. Really. At any rate, thanks for your patience and thank you to all my reviewers! mel, if you liked the "drool-worthy" bit, I think you'll like this next chapter as well! And, swim6516, the Black Snake is on the scene...I hope you like her...and her advice. :D MysteriouslyUnique, I'm afraid you had to be a little more patient than usual this time around...I hope the chapter makes up for it. There's a little more flirting in this one, pixievix, and from here on it should be steadily increasing. (yay!) ;) The discussion of the fight should be interesting, VaSinFlor...at least, I hope so. I haven't written that part yet! And, Joe, I think it's fairly safe to say that Lizzie's guard is finally beginning to contemplate negotiating a surrender. Might be a while before they're completely down, though...buggers are armed to the teeth....
Chapter 10: The Black Snake
The words wavered into existence, misty, unformed, levering her into wakefulness as she grasped after them. "Mmm?" she asked, unsure whether her eyes were still closed.
"I said," the voice again, exasperation edging humor, "I thought we agreed no mauling."
Mauling? What? Still trying to decide whether her eyes were open—they felt like they might be open—she attempted to place this mauling nonsense.
Ah, yes. Last night. Gordo. Sharing a bed.
"'M not mauling you," she mumbled, deciding she didn't really care if her eyes were open.
"Oh, really?" Gordo scoffed, and Lizzie realized his voice was right at her ear, his chest rising and falling at her back with every breath...and were those arms banding her sides?
This time she was sure her eyes were open because she could see Gordo's hands clenched together at her stomach, his arms on either side of her, holding her tight to his chest.
"You're mauling me!" she exclaimed.
He tsked against her neck. "Nope. Sorry. It only looks that way, I'm afraid." Lizzie frowned, fighting a disbelieving grunt. "You see all that space in front of you?" She looked up and saw most of the pallet spread before her. "It will probably not surprise you, then, to discover that in the course of the night you have systematically elbowed and shoved me to the very edge of the bed. I am, in fact, holding on for dear life only to keep from falling to the floor. So while it may look as though you are one being mauled, I believe I am the one who has suffered an all-night attack on my honor." He cleared his throat primly. "Or, if not my honor, at least my bed space."
Oh.
"So, my dear Lizzie," Gordo continued, "if you wouldn't mind scooting a bit closer to your half of the bed, I would greatly appreciate it. And," he sighed dramatically, "I will even relinquish your waist."
Right. Careful of his precarious position, she inched toward the center of the pallet, turning when he withdrew his grip around her middle. "Sorry," she smiled into his sleep-hazed eyes.
"Eh," he shrugged one shoulder. "Always an adventure, McGuire." He pursed his lips, wiggling the fingers of one hand. "'Course, I can't feel my left arm, so next time we have a sleepover, what say you we stay in separate beds?"
"Deal," she nodded, grinning at the mention of sleepovers. She and Miranda still had them frequently, but Lizzie couldn't even remember the last time Gordo had joined them. He probably wouldn't have much patience with the girl talk and nail-painting and chick flicks, but there was also the late-night honesty—darkened room confessions and philosophizing and stretches of long, breath-filled silence. She missed him, then.
The smile faded from her mouth and she lay, facing him, blinking into his eyes until she was certain they were blinking in unison. She could almost imagine herself a child again, resting in the grass on a summer afternoon with her best friend, wind tussling her favorite dress, spinning the clouds overhead, rifling dark curls above blue-grey eyes.
It struck her suddenly how remarkable it was to have known someone her whole life...wondrous, miraculous. How had they done it? How had they stayed friends for so long?
"Ah," came Nadie's voice behind her. "You are both awake. Good." Gordo's eyes flicked away from Lizzie's and she rolled over, that youthful summer day wisping away like smoke.
Nadie stood in the curtain doorway, cloth looped thick over her arms. "I have your garments," she announced. "Once you are dressed, please join us for our morning meal." Laying the clothes in two piles, she smiled, performed her bow, and ducked out of the room.
Lizzie lay there a moment longer, still as the sheets rustled behind her and Gordo leaned over her side. One hand propped beside her stomach, he bent close to her face and whispered, "Is it not a little creepy that Nadie's wearing Maggie Fogel's face?" Startled, Lizzie twisted to meet Gordo's gaze. His eyebrows rose. "I mean," he clarified, "she speaks like some mystic. I keep expecting her to call you 'Liz-babe' or, you know, giggle or something." A sly grin was stalking one corner of his mouth and Lizzie felt her own lips mirror it.
"Well," she whispered back, pushing at the giggles bubbling in her throat. "She did spend most of her life as a toad-woman."
A crease formed between Gordo's eyebrows. "Hmmm," he considered, "I guess that would scare the giggles out of you."
A snicker escaped Lizzie. "Not to mention the 'Liz-babe's," she added and managed to keep a straight face until Gordo burst out laughing.
"Shh, shh," she hissed through their laughter, reaching up to cover Gordo's mouth with her hand. His eyes looked rather affronted above her thumb. "We don't want to offend our hosts," she gasped. "Shhh."
The hand beside her stomach rose to pry her fingers from his face. "They won't know why we're laughing," he protested. Lizzie simply stuck her tongue out at him and tugged at her captured hand. Rather than convince him to let it go, however, she merely succeeded in unbalancing him, sending him toppling over her in a flurry of arms and legs.
Unable to resist, Lizzie cried, "No mauling!" which only set them off again.
Finally, they managed to stop laughing long enough to struggle into their clothes and, after some minutes, even enter the fire room tolerably contained.
There, Nadie waited with their breakfast—another oddly filling mixture of nuts and flower petals—and Evarado presented them with their carpet, a newly filled waterskin, and a small packet that contained the salvaged remains of their bread and cheese. While they ate, Evarado explained that he would guide them part of the way.
"I would go with you further," he said, apology plain in his voice, "but the Black Snake only aids those in great need. I am afraid she might sense me and refuse to help."
Lizzie and Gordo assured him that he and his family had offered more than enough assistance already, and gratified, Evarado smiled a peculiarly Ethan-like smile and returned to his meal. Within a few minutes, Gordo and the hunter were rolling the carpet, Lizzie shouldering the waterskin, and all three bidding their farewells to Nadie and a quiet Sisika hiding behind her legs.
On the road again, Lizzie resisted the urge to sing.
And a very pleasant road it turned out to be. The treehouse wasn't quite all Lizzie expected of it—a mere fifteen feet from the ground, it didn't have much in the way of a view into the forest—but once their feet touched earth again, the journey was lovely. The treetops were miles overhead, lost in shadow and grey mist, but Lizzie barely missed them. There was simply too much to look at—strange lush greenery wanton with brilliant flowers, birds of teal, fuchsia, and coral plumage, the heavy, sleek coils of snakes. Despite the occasional glimpse of monkeys, Lizzie could think it nothing but beautiful.
They weren't walking very long when the sound of rushing water met their ears. Within a few steps, the forest opened up on a wide, rapid river, muddy brown and capping white over rocks and snags.
"This is the river," Evarado explained unnecessarily, setting the end of the carpet he'd carried on the ground. "Here I must stop. Continue downstream and you should find the Black Snake." He brought cupped hands to his breastbone and bowed. "Good fortune and may your journey be swift." Lizzie and Gordo barely had time to return his farewell before the hunter disappeared back down the trail.
"Curiouser und curiouser," mused Gordo in his dreadful German accent. Lizzie chuckled and shook her head.
"I think you're mixing your literature, Gordo."
His eyes stopped roving the forest and met hers. "Quite so," he chirped with a decisive nod. "Still, even though this isn't Wonderland, you have to admit the sentiment isn't far off. This is definitely stranger than the brothers and Lily." Lizzie just shrugged, causing Gordo to stare at her in disbelief. "C'mon, McGuire," he prodded. "Ethan and Maggie as jungle-folks of great wisdom—tell me that's not weird. And they've got a kid." He mock-shuddered. "Gives me goosebumps."
A smile bent her lips. "Well, maybe we just needed to get to know them better...like we did the brothers and Lily."
Gordo looked skeptical. "Maybe," he conceded. "But I still think it's pretty eerie to see Ethan and Maggie's faces without smiles on them." Well, when he put it that way....
Lizzie fought a shiver. "Mmmhmm," she murmured, trying to put the image of dour, blank-faced Ethan and Maggie zombies out of her mind. "And on that freaky note, how about we go looking for this Black Snake?" Without waiting for his reply, she leaned down to pick up the free end of the carpet, turning to face downstream as she propped it on her shoulder.
"Are you sure you want to lead?" Gordo asked.
What kind of a question was that? She frowned in the middle of taking a step. "Sure. Why? You think you know the terrain better?"
He chuffed. "Funny. No, I just seem to remember something about you screaming the other day—you know, the scream that sent us plummeting to earth? I just figured maybe you shouldn't be the first one to encounter the Black Snake."
She shouldn't? "Why? I'm not afraid of snakes," she scoffed, trying not to bristle at the paternal tone in his voice. He made her sound like a child, some silly, whining, cringing child.
The carpet lurched against her shoulder. "You're not?" He seemed surprised. "Then why did you scream?"
Bother. The irritation gave way to a hot blush. She wasn't afraid of snakes, no, but she really didn't want to tell him what she was afraid of. She grit her teeth and locked her lips around them.
"Liz?" She knew that tone. Pleasant, friendly, with just a hint that in a few moments he was gonna get ornery. Sure enough, when she didn't answer right away, the carpet stopped altogether, nearly sliding off her shoulder before she managed to stop walking.
"What?" she asked, twisting to meet his eyes.
"Liz." Not even the skinny edge of a question in that one.
Lizzie bit her lip, considering her options. She could refuse to answer...but she knew from past experience that he wouldn't move from that spot until she did. She could get angry...but he'd probably just laugh at her...and not move. She could try and change the subject—ah, who was she kidding?
"You'll laugh at me," she whined.
One eyebrow crooked upward. "It's that good, huh?"
"No." But that pout in her voice said otherwise, even to her own ears. After a long beat of reluctant silence, she finally mumbled, "A monkey."
"What?" Oh, yeah, he was asking for clarification, but she could tell by his growing grin that he'd heard her just fine. Just prolonging the torture. Sadist.
Raising her chin, she repeated stoutly, "A monkey."
Chuckles burst through the corners of his grin. "'A monkey'? A monkey made you scream?!" Snickers snuffled from his nose.
"Yes," she declared distinctly, not quite able to stifle her shudder.
Gordo was still laughing, hard enough now that she thought he might start snorting. He opened his mouth several times before he managed to wheeze, "But they're just li'l things!" His thumb and index finger pinched together to illustrate. "Jus' this big," he slurred, gasping.
Yeah, yuk, yuk, yuk. Lizzie glowered at him and then the twitching carpet. Turning to face front again, she pursed her lips and resolutely stepped forward, gratified when Gordo gave a surprised yelp, the carpet hitching before settling smoothly on her shoulder.
After a while, his laughter died away altogether and they continued on in silence. Lizzie was just starting to relax, irritation sloughing from her shoulders, when Gordo spoke up again. "One thing, though, Lizzie, that I don't understand." He sounded completely serious.
"What?" she sighed, feeling a little more of the tension leave on the word.
"That chimp—you know, the one I helped you baby-sit during Mr. Keith's Scottish fest? You weren't afraid of him."
True. "Just chalk it up to the Summer That Changed Everything," she said. Then, hearing his confused silence, she continued, "The summer before high school, I left my window open one night. Fredo—the chimp—must have climbed in, because the next thing I know, I'm waking up to one up close and personal monkey. Gave me nightmares for weeks."
"Oh." She could hear the smile in his voice, but at least he wasn't laughing again. "'The Summer That Changed Everything,' huh?"
That made her laugh. "Yeah." She shook her head. "I don't actually call it that. It's just, recently, I've realized how much I really did change that summer. No more stage fright. No more disgust over science and dissecting things. The beginning of my monkey phobia. The end of those junior high crushes."
Gordo snorted. "Liz, I'm pretty sure your crush on Ethan Craft carried over into freshman year."
That wasn't what she meant—not really—but she simply shrugged and joked, "Well, yeah, until March 11th of freshman year, but who was counting?"
"Not Ethan," Gordo drawled.
A laugh caught her by surprise, sharp, half-disbelieving, barking through her startled mouth to ring brassy in the air. "Ouch," she smiled. "Way to bring it home, slugger."
It was a long moment before he replied. "Well, you know, gotta keep my average up."
She chuckled ruefully. "Considering how many times the runner's rounded that particular home plate, your average should be outta the park—pardon the pun."
The laughter she expected didn't come. Only another beat of silence and a low sigh. "I'm sorry, Lizzie," he said finally.
"What? Why?"
"For always harping on you about Ethan."
Where had this come from? "What are you talking about, Gordo?" she frowned.
Another sigh. "It's just...I don't know...you must be so sick of me saying I told you so about Ethan all the time. I know it really hurt you that he wasn't interested in you."
He sounded so serious, so contrite, and she was glad he couldn't see the smile growing on her face. He probably wouldn't appreciate it. "Yeah, Gordo, it did—three years ago. Don't worry about it, okay? You were right every single time you told me that crushing on Ethan Craft was a waste of my time. I knew it then just as well as I do now. I just didn't want to admit it to myself." She twisted in his direction just enough to meet his eyes, dark beneath drawn brows, and still keep walking. "You're my best friend. I'm glad you told me the truth. I'm glad you still do. Even when I wasn't very gracious about hearing it." She waited for his nod and a glimmer of a smile before she turned around again.
And stopped so fast Gordo nearly ran into her, the carpet sliding off her shoulder to thud against the ground.
"Lizzie!" he protested, the word ending in a sharply indrawn breath. Lizzie didn't spare him a glance, but she had a feeling that he was staring in the same direction as her, his mouth hanging open just like hers.
There in the path in front of them coiled a great snake. As thick as Lizzie's thigh, it shone obsidian in the misted sunlight, onyx eyes glittering at them from a sleek, blunt-nosed reptilian head. Gordo swore behind her, but Lizzie found herself taking a step forward, bowing her head as she whispered, "The Black Snake." Beautiful.
When she raised her head again, the snake was gone. In its place stood Bethel Washington, tall, shoulders straight, her dusky skin even darker beside the brilliant white of her sarong. Her eyes were black, unfathomable and with her hair a smooth black cap against her head, Lizzie could almost see the snake in the lines of Bethel's nose and jaw.
"Forgive me my change in form," the woman—snake—apologized with Bethel's voice. "My snake shape can be fearsome, but I trust this one is more familiar. Does it suit, sir?" Her eyes flicked to Gordo and Lizzie turned with them. Gordo, pale, eyes wide, could only nod. Lizzie felt a faint thread of amusement—he was afraid of snakes!—but quickly lost it as the woman-snake spoke again. "Good," she nodded, mouth blossoming in a smile utterly Bethel's. "It suits me as well." She stretched her hands out in front of her, curling and uncurling her fingers. "This one is very nearly reptilian. But of course you knew that."
Her eyes found Lizzie's and Lizzie heard herself stammering, "Y-yes...w-well, not until just now, actually, but yes, I think she suits you well."
"Indeed. And she is not owned by anyone here." Her gaze had shifted to her feet, toes wiggling. "I believe I shall keep her shape for myself. It is sometimes nice to wander in another's skin." She looked up. "You do not suppose she will mind? The one you know?"
The woman-snake looked so distressed that Lizzie immediately responded, "No, no I don't think she'll mind at all." It was only a moment later that she realized what the woman-snake had said. "The one I know?" she repeated. "You mean Bethel? From our...universe? You know we're not from here?" Behind her, the other end of the carpet thumped to the ground, Gordo appearing at her side not a moment later.
Bethel's smile took on an unfamiliar angle. "Why, yes." There was laughter in her voice. "I would not be much of a Black Snake if I did not know that." Her smile faded away, voice even and earnest. "You come looking for a way home, yes?"
"Yes!" both Gordo and Lizzie answered together.
The woman-snake blinked. "I can help you, but I admit that I do not know how you may get home. I am, after all, only a Black Snake. There is only so much I can know." Lizzie's shoulders sagged, Gordo sighing beside her. One of Bethel's gentle, sweet smiles found the woman-snake's mouth again. "But I can help." She raised a finger. "You must follow my every direction, I caution you. Are you able?" Lizzie nodded, Gordo squeaking a rusty affirmative.
"Good." And with a pleased dip of her chin, the woman-snake began her directions, elaborating each and every step, from the use of the flying carpet to where they were to stay the night to the description of the hill they were to land on. "There you will find a woman," she said at last, "of gold hair. She will help you further. Do you understand? Good. Now, tell me what I have said."
It took several tries but in the end both Lizzie and Gordo could repeat the woman-snake's instructions word-perfect. Another bright Bethel smile lit her face and she clasped her hands to her breast in the same bow Nadie and Evarado had given them.
"Then go in peace, travelers," she said. Her head tilted away, black gaze holding them even from the corners of her eyes. She stared a moment then turned back, stepping forward to put a hand each on their shoulders. "And if I may offer one last recommendation...." She paused, looked to Gordo and then to Lizzie, eyes narrowing even as her pupils widened, jet in onyx. "There are lessons here you need to learn." The woman-snake's voice deepened and Lizzie felt the forest fall away, Bethel's familiar face fading, shimmering to blend with the snake's, night eyes clutching her, fathomless. "Pay attention." Or you may never get home.
Abruptly, the forest was back, Bethel's features still, solid, her teeth a kind crescent. Lizzie exhaled, feeling as though she'd run a marathon even though her lungs and heart were even, breath and beat in simple rhythm. Or we may never get home? she thought, wondering where the words had come from. They weren't Bethel's voice, but why would Lizzie have thought them?
Her eyes focused on the woman-snake again, saw the expectant tilt to her eyebrows. Never mind, Lizzie shook herself. They'd already been told to follow the Black Snake's every direction. Perhaps that was what the words had been drawn from. Never mind. Clearing her throat, Lizzie managed a soft, "I will. I promise."
The woman-snake nodded. "Farewell, then," she said, stepping back. "Good journey to you both." In an instant, she'd slipped back to her snake form and then, a gasp from Gordo later, disappeared entirely.
Lizzie stared at the spot where she'd stood until Gordo coughed and muttered, "Why does everyone in this bloody place disappear like that?! It's rude."
Grinning as she blinked hazy eyes, Lizzie turned to face him. "Next stop, you can register a complaint." Gordo half-frowned, rolling his eyes as he mimicked her under his breath. Still mumbling, he bent down to unroll the carpet and Lizzie was struck suddenly by how normal he was.
Well, not normal-normal—he was Gordo, after all, which meant he had a good number of shares in the weird market—but he was Gordo, her best friend, a little bit of home, treating her the same as he ever did...even here, in this fairy-tale, bubble-universe rain forest beside a river and a flying carpet just moments after a shape-changing mystical wise-snake had given them advice.
She was so glad he was here.
Fierce gratitude flooded her eyes, fuzzing her vision before reaching down to grip her throat, thrum inside her chest. He was here. He was himself. And no sooner had he straightened, turned around—his teasing frown instantly concerned—than she was pacing the few steps between them and curling herself small against his chest, nose bumping his jaw as her hands clutched at his sides.
Before he could say anything, she blurted, tongue clumsy against her teeth, "I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for being here."
It took a moment, but then he was hugging her, one arm angled around her jutting elbow to press against her bowed back, the other warm on her shoulder, its hand smoothing the crown of her head. He moved his chin, adjusting until her nose came to rest against his neck, in the dip of warm skin below his ear. "Lizzie," he murmured soft, careful, and she could hear in his voice that he was confused. She wanted to laugh even as the heavy, hot weight of tears threatened to spill over her eyelids. This was exactly it. He was so...Gordo. No matter what, no matter his own misgivings or hurt or confusion, he was always there when she needed him. Always.
Even in a fairy tale bubble universe.
"Lizzie," he said again, rubbing a hand slowly on her back. She swallowed at the tightness in her throat, blinked against her filmy vision, and loosened her grip on his tunic just as his hands settled on her upper arms, pushing her away just enough to meet her eyes.
Trying a smile on for her, "There's nowhere else I'd be. Promise."
Of course not. He was Gordo. She closed her eyes against one last rush of clutching gratitude, nodded as it ebbed, and then dropped her hands to her sides.
His smile widened. "Are you all right now?"
Holding his eyes a moment longer, she straightened and took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said, "Thanks." A smile tugged on her mouth. "I'm not quite sure what happened," she admitted, flushing.
He nodded sagely, a teasing light still in his eyes. "Hormones," he pronounced, jumping back just in time to avoid a swat to the arm.
"Shut up," she laughed.
"You're saying I'm wrong?" he asked innocently, tossing his hands up as she took a menacing step forward. "Hey!" he protested. "None of that, my lady. We've got a schedule to meet, directions to follow, a flying carpet to...fly."
She laughed again. "Riiight."
Gordo only shrugged. "C'mon, fellow traveler. Help me prepare our transportation." He gestured at the partially unrolled carpet, his smile widening impossibly as she shook her head and bent to join him. Within only a few minutes, they were again above the trees, traveling on toward home.
****
end of chapter 10