Triggers: Brief implication of sex, mildly graphic descriptions of blood and gore, death.
Drawn From Stone
Chapter Three
Claire bit back a curse as the lock on the door flickered red at her. Had she put it near her cellphone? She couldn't remember. It was, honestly, too early to be dealing with any of this. She had sent Jim and NotEnrique off about fifteen minutes ago. She hoped they would make it back to the camp safely.
Speaking of safety, she hurried to the front desk, not wanting to be outside of very long. Something in the back of her mind told her to get near someone as soon as she could.
The woman who had checked them in was behind the desk once again. She looked up, over the rims of her glasses with dull, gray eyes before looking back down at the glossy pages of some tabloid.
"Does your grandfather know you're sneaking boys in and out of your room at odd hours?" she said.
"...Maybe," Claire said, slowly. "But please don't tell him."
"He doesn't know his teenage granddaughter is dating an older guy?"
"Oh, he knows Jim." She tried to spit out a lie, but it hung on the back of her throat and refused to get out. So, she gave the truth — well, half-truth. "He might not like it, but he doesn't hate him. Jim's really good at baking and cooking. He's the only one who can make my grandfather's favorite rabbit stew."
Okay, so she might not have had a lot of Jim's cooking before his transformation but there was little doubt in her mind that he could have become a world famous chef. Or become famous by going onto one of those cooking shows like Hell's Kitchen or something and winning.
"We wanted to spend a little more time together is all," she said, continuing. "My parents know, but my grandpa? He's… just a little old fashioned. So, please don't tell him?"
The woman — her name tag read 'Lauren' in bold, black letters — snorted and closed her tabloid.
"Alright," Lauren said, wagging a bony finger at her, "on one condition."
"Er…"
"Just answer some of my questions."
"Al… alright."
"How long you been dating this guy?"
"A year and a half, I think. Maybe two years?" Were they dating before he went into the Darklands? She couldn't really tell. "We're the same age. He just had a growth spurt last year. It was… different."
"How old are you?"
"Just turned seventeen a couple of weeks ago."
"And you say his name is Jim?"
"Yeah. Well, James but we all call him Jim. He was named after his dad."
The woman hummed, nodding.
"And you two are being careful? Using protection?"
Claire felt her face heat up. Okay, she needed to shut this down. Like, yesterday. She looked up at the woman between her lashes.
The woman was beaming.
"I'm just joking around," Lauren said. "You seem like a smart kid. Don't want you to get trapped in something you'll regret."
"Trust me," she said, "Jim's not one to trap anyone. He's too nice a guy for that."
Lauren just nodded.
"So," she said, "what did you need?"
"My key." Claire produced the piece of plastic from her — well, Jim's — old hoodie pocket. "I think I put it near my cell phone. Whoops."
Lauren took the key and quickly re-magnetized it, holding it back out to her.
"Just be careful, alright?"
Whether or not she was talking about the key or Jim, Claire didn't know. Still, she took the key and left without looking back.
The room unlocked with ease this time round. She closed it behind her, setting the deadbolt into place and making sure the curtains were tightly sealed. Then, she kicked off her hiking boots — those might last another week or two — and slipped off her socks.
Looking around, she noted that the housekeepers had been inside. The bed was remade, the towels were fresh and stacked neatly in the little cabinet in the bathroom, the floor had been vacuumed. But her things had not been touched.
She had tried to keep her personal belongings tucked neatly into corners throughout the room. Her clothes, however, spilled out of the large backpack she'd gotten fairly early on in their journey. It was the remaining contents that interested her.
She undid the orange zipper and withdrew a heavy, worn book. The leather cover was cracked. The gold foil that had once created elaborate designs along its front and back was nearly all gone — she could no longer guess at what they might have been.
In all honesty, the book should have been in a museum somewhere. But Merlin had pulled it out of… who knows where and handed it to her.
"For your magical studies," he'd said, seeing her curious looks.
"Magical studies?" she'd said, slowly. She'd glanced between him, the book, Blinky, and Jim.
"Yes. You do plan on learning to control what that witch unlocked in you, correct?"
She hadn't thought about it at that time — or much time before that — but it made perfect sense now. Morgana had done something to her mind, opened a part of her to a piece of the world that only a few had the briefest glimpse of.
Merlin had approved of her progress over the past couple of weeks, deeming her ready to study on her own. Now that she was past the primary basics of understanding the fundamentals of magic, or so Merlin said — she… wasn't positive on that fact. Still, she wouldn't deny that a lot of it was intuition.
Manipulating shadows, summoning objects, and defensive spells all came easily to her. But other things, like healing or plant growth — which would have been very helpful at various times — were more difficult than she was willing to admit.
Maybe she should go back and review the beginning sections? No, it might be best to move forward.
Claire shrugged and opened the book up to where she left off. The strange language that was Old English stared up at her. She slipped the amulet off from around her neck, holding the glowing pink light up to the pages.
The amulet had been an early project. Merlin had taught her to infuse a crystal with some of her magic. It would act not dissimilarly to Jim's amulet when translating Trollish.
The words on the pages wriggled and changed before her eyes, becoming modern English.
"Alright," she said, scanning over the words, "what's today's lesson? 'Feeling the Souls of the Living'. Hmm. Sounds interesting."
Izita's quarters were close to his, so Eli wasn't too surprised when Zadra led them there. He often seen her either entering it or leaving — something he hadn't really shared with Aja, but it was neither of their business. In his opinion. In Aja's however…
"Where are we?" she said.
"Izita's quarters," Zadra said, her tone even. Eli noted how it was a tad bit warmer than normal.
"And why are we here?"
Zadra didn't answer. She swiped her hand in front of the scanner. There was a soft beep and the door hissed open. She led the way in.
"Who's… oh." Izita was standing in what might have been the kitchen. When she saw Aja and him, her brow furrowed. "Zadra, Your Highness, Ambassador Eli. I take it this afternoon didn't go well?"
"Mommy!" Davaros shot around whatever corner she'd been hiding behind and launched herself at Zadra.
"Mommy?" Aja and Eli said at the same time. The two of them glanced at each other and then back at Zadra, cradling Davaros.
"You never ask how I spend my time away," Zadra said, "and I never explained."
Again, Aja and Eli shared a glance. They both decided to shrug it off. It was Zadra's personal life, after all. Well, at least Eli thought they would both shrug it off. Aja, it seems, had other plans.
"You didn't tell me that you were married," Aja said, her voice cracking.
"Not yet," Izita said, walking over and taking Davaros from Zadra. "But we hope soon."
"Izita," Zadra said, "we will need the help of the Resistance."
"The Resistance? Zadra, what's going on?"
"They're planning on blowing up planet Earth."
She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, trying not to sway on her feet. She leaned against the desk of the nurses' station. La'Wanda smiled up at her through droopy eyes. Barbara was fairly certain she looked exactly the same.
"Any news from Jim today?" La'Wanda said, handing over the folder with the information on one of the more stubborn patients.
"My phone's back in my locker," she said, drooping against the countertop. "He's having fun, doing the cross-country trip."
"Don't know if I'd let my son and his girlfriend go off without me hanging around."
"A family friend is with them." Her mind flicked to Blinky — who was more than capable of taking care of a half-Troll teen. She hoped. "And, besides, Jim's always been the responsible one between the two of us. If something does happen, he's the type to step up."
"Mm-hmm. And his girl?"
"Claire? She graduated early. Could have been their class's valedictorian, if she wanted."
"Smart girls are known to make dumb decisions."
"Yes, we do." She smiled at La'Wanda, giving a little laugh. "Claire's not just smart, though. She's been fairly honest with me. Has been since before… everything."
"She was one of the," La'Wanda said, looking around to see if anyone was listening before continuing, "volunteers who helped out during the storm, right?"
"Yes. She was right in the middle of it." She was glad that La'Wanda was one of the few nurses who actually lived in Arcadia. Yolanda, who was known for being obscenely chatty, would have blurted everything within moments. Janice and Carrol weren't much better. And the other doctors? They were just as bad. La'Wanda, though? Best nurse in the state, fabulous coworker, and had been working with her since she was just a little intern. She also knew the best sandwich shop that got Jim's approval.
"So, tell me about her. Do you trust her?"
"Claire?" Barbara said, blinking at her. "Of course I trust her. I trust her with Jim's life. She was the reason he auditioned for Romeo and Juliet, you know."
"You mentioned that he was in that. Romeo, right? She was his Juliet?"
"Yeah. It was the most beautiful and tragic thing. I don't think I've even processed it after… it's been over a year since the auditions. Jesus, where did the time go?"
"Kids grow up fast," La'Wanda said. "My youngest just had her second child. My first granddaughter, if you can believe it."
"Oooo, please tell me you have pictures."
"You're not hoping for grandbabies this early, are you?" La'Wanda said, looking away from her phone as she pulled up the pictures.
"I'm only thirty-nine!"
"I already had two grandchildren at thirty-nine."
"La'Wanda."
"Barbara."
"Jim and I already had that talk — well before he left. He's not ready for that step. Neither is Claire. They might have been forced to grow up too fast, but they both still recognize that they're children. Now, come on, grandbaby pictures."
The baby, was of course, covered in a fine layer of lanugo, with horribly bulbous eyes and a squashed nose, but the video of her yawning had been the cutest thing she'd seen in a while.
La'Wanda had been paged away to check in on a patient. She was left alone, flipping through a folder for a patient. Her eyes weren't picking up on the words scrawled across the pages.
This… wasn't good. If she was this tired now, how was she going to be when she had to drive home? Maybe she could get one of the interning residents to take over for thirty minutes so she could squeeze in a quick nap.
There were four on duty…
No. She didn't want to do that to them. They were good kids. She remembered the days of when she had to fight for her spot — back when James left her and Jim, and they were struggling to stay afloat.
Besides, she was a tough cookie. She had worse hours before.
Actually, a cookie sounded nice. She wondered if the cafeteria had any.
She strolled down the halls, taking the quickest route to the belly of the hospital. She waved at nurses and attendings — and the occasional patient or family member — as she passed. No one stopped her to chat or to see where she was going, something she was grateful for.
She rounded a corner and was swallowed by darkness. She blinked and looked up. Just a moment ago, she could have sworn that the lights had been on.
She turned around, expecting to see one of the nurses' station and a brightly lit area. That, too, was dark.
Barbara took a shaky breath and slowly started down her initial route. She kept her hand on the wall, hand touching the wood railing some patients used to help them keep their balance.
In the split second her hand was off one, the bar broken to allow for a door, the wall turned to something cold and solid. Stone.
She tried to trace back, but it was gone.
Forwards, she told herself. Keep moving forwards.
After everything her family had been through during the course of a single year, whatever this was, she could handle it.
And then, a light appeared. Slowly at first, spotlighting her and then blinding her. She covered her eyes with her arm. In the split second she did so, the scene around her changed.
The air turned hot and choking, though the place was relatively dim in comparison to the light. Something that smelled of burned hair and charred beef or fatty pork mixed with tangy copper. It was acrid and musty.
She opened her eyes and looked around her.
She stood on a battlefield, surrounded by hundres of slaughtered bodies. No human remained perfectly whole. The dirt was stained red and turned to mud under her feet, clinging to her white shoes. Fires chewed at limbs from the deceased and at broken carts.
Just to her right was a child, small with gaping blue eyes. And a face that she knew. She knew it so well.
She sank down to her knees, hand reaching to touch the cheek. Trembling fingers brushed cool skin that was beginning to turn wan and blue.
Who would do this? Who could do this? To a child?
Who in their right mind would want to do this to him?
To her Jim?