Bae held on, white knuckled, as the motorcycle sped down the road.
Before letting him get on, the strange man, Tom Rosa, had looked over Bae's clothes and told him to get rid of his overtunic. It wasn't the sort of thing that got worn around here and it would have been in the way sitting on the back of the bike (another, shorter name for the motorcycle).
In its place, Tom gave him a bright, red piece of clothing he called a sweatshirt. It had a large, stylized B on it. Asking about that led to a confusing explanation about something called the Boston Red Socks.
It was Tom's and, though he was a tall man – Bae could only hope he might be that tall when he was Tom's age, in ten years or so – it didn't seem to hang as badly as it might have on Bae.
The helmet, at least, made sense.
Eventually, however, Bae stopped expecting instant death as the bike sped down the road and even began to enjoy the strange sensation of speeding along like an arrow out of a bow.
But, he still held on tight.
The motorcycle had a light attached to it, as did the other vehicles they passed. It burned bright and steady, more like a small moon than a fire.
But, he'd been told, this world had no magic.
After they had been driving a while, Tom pulled off onto a side road, heading for a strangely lit building – it had white lights, like the bike, but also red and blue ones, some of them twisted in glowing letters that spelled "gas." There were several, large vehicles parked around.
"Trucks," Tom explained as brought the bike to a stop. "We need to get gas – fuel for the bike. And maybe fuel for you. They've got snacks and things inside."
"That's right, Tom," a sarcastic voice drawled from behind them. "Fill up the kid on sugars and fats. That's the way to have an easy trip."
There was a woman standing behind them. Like Tom, she had curly, black hair, dark eyes, and fair skin. They were even about the same age, Bae guessed.
"What are you doing here?" Tom demanded.
"Helping out. Also, providing nutritious food that won't send the kid's system into shock. I'm parked over that way, if you want to load up your bike and introduce your passenger to the concept of seat belts."
"You know this lady, sir?" Bae asked.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. Right, introductions. Sis, this is Bae, aka, Baelfire. Bae, this is my evil twin, Sirena Rosa."
"Nice to meet you, Bae," Sirena said. "And, please, call me Siri."
Tom rolled his eyes. "Doesn't your accountants' coven need you or something?"
"Says the man who ditched Harvard law. It's the weekend, and I managed to shift off saving the company from the Eurozone's imminent collapse till Monday, maybe Tuesday if I have to."
"Be still my heart."
Siri looked at Bae. "Hmm, maybe we should snipe at each other in clearer language? I can't help thinking we're confusing the blazes out of our listener."
"Oh. Good point. OK, Bae, this is my sister, Siri. We tend to irritate each other, but don't let that bother you. She works as, well, I guess you'd call it a clerk for our dad's company. Originally, our dad wanted me to be lawyer but, for good and sufficient reasons, I chose to pursue a different career path."
"Like finding lost kids in the woods at night," Siri said. "And, as you may have noticed, he's good at it. He's really good at dealing with the unexpected – there, see? I can be nice – I, on the other hand, excel at anything involving planning – like tracking my brother down in the middle of the night and showing up with things he may not have thought about, like decent food supplies. This way to the feast, my hearties!"
With that, she marched off towards one of the large vehicles. Tom shrugged and followed after her, though he did stop when he saw the vehicle she was leading them to.
"What is that? An all terrain Winnebago?"
Siri looked smug. "Essentially. It took a little modification, but it's pretty useful at times like this, wouldn't you say?"
"You are a sick, sick life form."
"Hey, just because some of us believe civilization and long distance travel can be combined doesn't make us sick."
"Right, my mistake. More like oxymoronic."
"Says the man with the moron-o-cycle. You have signed your organ donor card, I trust?"
"I wear a helmet. And stuff."
"Yeah, well, just keep dodging the laws of physics," she pulled open the door. "Everybody in and tell me what you think!"
Tom caught her arm. "Just to check, anybody else in there I should prepare sensitive, young tots for? Scales, claws, anything like that?"
"Nope, just me. In!"
The inside was amazing.
Small – it had to be small to fit in a vehicle – and strange (or strange to Bae), but he recognized the signs of wealth and comfort, a lord's manor in miniature.
There was a table with odd shaped, white boxes. Smells rose from them that made Bae's stomach rumble. Siri began opening them and displaying the contents. "Not sure what you're used to, but I went with mostly Scottish type foods –"
Tom interrupted, "Where did you find mostly Scottish type foods?"
"A side effect of having to watch after foreign business interests when they come calling. I've got a database of every food place between here and Boston with a detailed menu search. Anyhow, bannocks, mutton, three kinds of pottage, strawberries, plums, peaches, pears, cherries – I just had to add some pineapple, oranges, bananas, and coconuts, but feel free to ignore them if you want – Oh, I guessed you for a shepherding culture type, so there's sheep milk, goat milk, cow milk, butter, and six types of cheese. There's the seafood, salmon, trout, a seaweed salad. There's a regular salad and pickles. I've also got herbal teas – no caffeine for you, mister – and honey and cream. Oh, and clotted cream and scones. Any of that sound good to you?"
"I – I can't eat all that!"
"You don't have to. Don't worry, it'll keep. I'll explain the wonders of refrigeration to you later. Short version: I have an icebox."
Tom sighed. "It's a family thing," he said. "Siri's worried you might be stressed out with everything that's happened to you. She deals with it by feeding you."
"Basically," Siri agreed. "Look, Tom may not have mentioned it, but we've both done the the getting tossed into another world without warning thing – although we wound up in a world with magic. And a bunch of monsters after us. I know what it feels like. And we spent a lot of days wondering where our next meal was coming from. I know it's only been a few hours since you got here, but I figure you need a meal or three, OK?"
"Eat up," Tom said. "It'll make her happy. Siri, I'll get gas in my bike and load it up. Then, we move out, right?"
"Hmm, OK, but I think we should discuss strategy. Your last visit to Storybrooke was a little wild."
"Heh, right. But, that's still where we're going."
"Yeah, yeah, go get your bike."
Siri brought out plates and bowls. Before his father changed, he and Bae had eaten out of wooden bowls. After, they had had bowls and plates made by the local potter. Bae had never seen anything like these. They were pottery but thin and white. There was a finely painted pattern around the edges of red and gold roses, with the rims decorated with a thin edge of gold. She gave him a knife and spoon made of silver, along with something that looked like a small, silver pitchfork. She produced strange, elegant cups she called tea cups with the same pattern as the plates when he admitted to preferring tea to milk. She pulled out boxes and let him choose.
"You can read," Siri said, when he picked mint. "Is that common where you come from?"
Bae shrugged. "Not really. My papa taught me."
The tea wasn't loose leaves, as Bae was used to. Instead, it was in small bags that could be placed in the hot water. "No reading tea leaves tonight," Siri said.
"Sorry?"
"Oh, don't your people do that? It's a kind of fortune telling, try to guess the future by what kind of clumps the tea leaves make. Not my thing," she added. "I think you need a different mindset for that kind of stuff."
"I-I thought there was no magic in this world."
"Oh, the tea leaf thing doesn't work. But, as for magic. It's like saying there's no water in the desert. There isn't. But there is. A little gets in, here and there. Me and Tom, we've travelled, we picked up some things, found out some others.
"So, you want to tell me?" she asked. "Why did you want a world without magic?"
"My – my papa . . . ." and Bae found himself telling her all the things he'd told Tom.
"But, it wouldn't work, would it?" Bae finished bitterly. "Even here. There's still magic. Papa's curse –"
"Depends," Siri said. "I know some creatures whose magic only works at certain times and in certain places. I've seen what happens to some of them when they wind up here too long. Some adapt, some become . . . not magic, just normal. Some die – Oh!" she added quickly. "Your papa wouldn't have been one of those! He was still human, right? I mean, under the curse and everything? I think you're blue lady had it right. He'd have been human here. Maybe an occasional spark would get through, but that's it. Unless he found another source of magic, like that Storybrooke psycho . . . ."
"Please," Bae said. "You and Tom keep mentioning Storybrooke, but I don't understand what it is."
"It's a town, north and east of here. Its people are exiles. They had a wicked queen – maybe you know the type? Her stepdaughter was the heir but the queen wanted to rule in her place. Eventually, after the queen tried to murder her a few times, the princess finally managed to heave her off the throne and into exile. But, the queen wasn't the kind to take that gracefully. She enacted a curse, one to send all the people to a place where she figured she would have the edge, where she could deprive all the people who stood against her of their happy endings.
"I suppose I ought to feel royally insulted that she picked our world.
"Anyhow, they landed here in a small town that's trapped in time. They've been here something like thirty years with no one aging or changing, everyone with whatever memories the queen chose to give them to fit their lives here.
"And any attempt to get the lives back that they had back home tend to self-destruct." She began ticking things off on her fingers, her voice falling into a sing song. "So, the queen's stepdaughter lives a lonely, quiet life, wondering why she never finds love, not knowing that there is a man who was her husband in that other world who lies sick and wounded in a hospital bed, waiting for the sound of her voice to wake him. A princess struggles as a poor servant, heavy with child, the king who once welcomed her as a daughter seeing her now as a foolish mistake his son made who will ruin the prince's life if he lets her through their door - not that he's a prince here . . . . Their great strengths are hidden from them. Fears sprout up where they should be strong. The world dances to the queen's tune, and she makes music from their tears . . . ."
Bae swallowed. And this was where they were taking him. "Gold," Bae said. "The man Tom wants me to see. Who is he? Is he – does he work for this queen?"
"I doubt it. His memories came back while Tom was there. I think he's a wizard. Or something like one. Tom said he's powerful. And frightening. But, Tom says he'd trust him to keep a deal – I don't know if it's his magic or just the way he is, but those are rock solid sacred with him – and he has a certain sense of justice that he doesn't stray too far from – though I get the feeling his idea of justice and most other people's wouldn't exactly match up.
"Tom made a deal with him but he said he thought the real reason Gold helped him was because he was angry when he saw what the queen had done to Silver – a friend of my brother's the queen had captured.
"Although, to be fair, holding Silver prisoner was giving the queen a certain edge, and I doubt Gold cared for that – but Gold could have kept that advantage for himself instead of helping them get out.
"Anyhow, Gold showed them how to . . . erase the signs they'd been in Storybrooke. The world there forgot about them. And everything went back to normal.
"Including Gold. He forgot about them, too. And who and what he really was.
"Tom didn't realize it at the time, but he said Gold must have known that would happen. He told Tom they had to fix things, even if it meant 'setting them back.' He told Tom, and I quote, 'It isnt' time yet.'
"And, before you ask, I have no idea what 'It isn't time yet' means. I don't know what it is about wizards, but some of them just live to hand out cryptic riddles.
"But, he remembers things, now, and the curse seems to be breaking. Course, that means Regina – that's the queen – may remember things, too. We're going to be careful driving into town."
Tom came back into the vehicle. "All ready. You guys have enough time to chat?"
"Almost. I just have one question left for Bae." She looked him in the eye. "You want to go to Storybrooke? Or you want to run? Forget about Tom and his gut feelings. I'll help you do either."
Bae looked at Siri, then Tom.
"Do you think this will help me find my father?"
"Yeah," Tom said. "I do."
Siri shrugged. "And beheading will cure a headache. I trust Tom's gut, but it comes up really short in the details department."
"If it will help find him, then I have to go there."
"OK, then," Siri said. "Tom, show him how to use a seatbelt – and set a good example. Let's roll."