Shadow Heir

Chapter 11

Leaving was even harder than I’d thought it would be. And believe me, I’d expected it to be pretty hard.

It was one thing to talk of sacrifice with Roland, when I was away from Isaac and Ivy and fired up by the thought of saving the Otherworld and stopping Pagiel from pillaging among humans. Going forward with that decision, in the light of day, proved to be an entirely different matter—especially when I was back at the hospital throughout the following week. It didn’t help that the hospital staff kept regarding me like I was crazy. I knew they couldn’t imagine any “family emergency” in the world that would be important enough to justify leaving the bedsides of my NICU-BOUND children. The nurses didn’t judge—not openly—but I was certain I could see the disapproval in their eyes.

Or maybe I was just projecting.

The Reeds were equally astonished, but they had enough faith in Roland and me to believe that whatever cause was taking me away must be important. A good part of what delayed my departure was filling out the reams of paperwork that named Charles and Candace as the twins’ guardians in my absence. Presuming the twins were discharged before my return, Charles and Candace would be allowed to take Isaac and Ivy back to their home. Whenever I started discussing money to help cover the costs that such a venture would entail, nobody would listen to me.

“Nonsense,” Candace exclaimed as we were eating lunch in the hospital’s cafeteria one day. I had just brought up—for the tenth time—the idea of Roland and me pooling funds to buy baby supplies. “I won’t hear of it. What are a few baby things here and there? It’ll be nothing at all.”

I might almost have believed her if I hadn’t discovered a book on “baby essentials” lying around their house, with a shopping list in Candace’s handwriting tucked inside. Most items—and there were a lot more than “a few”—had had “x 2” written next to them, which didn’t reassure me any.

“It’s too much,” I argued. “You guys can’t afford—”

“You have no idea what we can or can’t afford,” she scolded. “You just take care of whatever it is you need to and get back to them. We’ll worry about those little ones. You don’t have to.”

It was impossible not to worry about them, though. No matter how often I told myself that the twins were out of immediate danger and simply had to fulfill their NICU time, I couldn’t help but fear maybe a doctor had missed something. Likewise, although I never doubted the Reeds’ love and devotion, I kept imagining worst-case scenarios. Candace had a dangerous job, after all. What if something happened to her? Would Charles be able to care for them on his own? Would he and Evan have to move in together to take care of the twins, like in some wacky sitcom?

These imaginings delayed me day after day until, one afternoon, Roland called me into Candace’s home office. He’d been checking his e-mail on her computer and beckoned me over to his side. “Look at this,” he said, flipping to a news website.

I leaned over his shoulder and felt my heart sink. “Oh Lord,” I muttered. The story was about a group of “hooligans” who had raided and robbed an outdoor farmers market in Phoenix—on horseback. Reports and witnesses were as sketchy as the Tucson theft had been on TV, but there was no doubt in my mind that this had been Otherworldly in origin. The nature of the farmers market had probably made it easier for them. Food, pure and simple, with easy accessibility. “I don’t suppose they rode their horses from Tucson to Phoenix?”

“Unlikely,” Roland said, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. “Especially since people report that they seemed to have ‘vanished.’ My guess is they’re just using a new gate. I know a couple up in that area.”

I nodded along, trying to merge my mental maps of this world and the Otherworld. “There’s a Phoenix one in the Willow Land. If hostilities really have been lifted, then Maiwenn would probably let Pagiel use it.” I sat down cross-legged on the floor, feeling a quick spark of pride at how quickly I was regaining my flexibility. “I wonder if we should be relieved Tucson isn’t the sole target—or worry that Pagiel’s spreading out to other gates and other cities.”

“We should be concerned that these raids are still going on, period. If you still think you’re up for leaving, we should probably do it soon.” His tone was hard, all-business, but I saw compassion in his eyes.

“I’m still up for it,” I said sadly. “Everything’s in place. If you can book us a flight for tomorrow, I’ll be ready to go.” Every word of that was true, but the finality of it was a hard thing to accept.

Roland made it happen. Candace and Charles sent us off with a huge farewell dinner of chicken and dumplings, though for once, the focus was less on the food and more on tying up all the loose ends and red tape with Isaac and Ivy. The morning of our flight, Roland and I left extra early so that we could make one more visit to the hospital. I don’t know if my timing was just lucky or if the staff felt sorry for me, but the nurse declared we’d reached a point where it would be okay for us to hold the twins.

I could scarcely dare to believe my good fortune. The ventilators were off, but there were still lots of cords and tubes to contend with, making everything a delicate balancing act. Roland and I were each given a twin, and after a little while, we switched. Looking down at Isaac, I felt my breath catch. Although still definitely a preemie, he’d put on weight and looked much more “babylike” than he had at birth. Now that they were both a little more developed, I was more confident than ever that they’d taken after me and not Kiyo. It was just as well since they had my last name and would never have any contact with him.

Isaac slept the entire time I held him, making the small movements and coos that infants do in their sleep. He seemed very content, and I again wondered if he was aware of my presence in any way. Maybe that had been naïve of me to imagine when I was on the other side of the glass, but now, in my arms, he must surely feel some sort of subconscious connection ... right?

So much has been done because of you, I thought. A world nearly went to war for you, and I had to change the way I lived to keep you safe. It had been worth it, though, and I dared to wonder if maybe this current tragedy in the Otherworld would leave its residents with a new sense of solidarity that would make the Storm King prophecy seem like an irrelevant fantasy from the past. I didn’t know if I’d ever want to bring my children into the Otherworld, but regardless of where they were, I wanted them to live peaceful lives that weren’t plagued by war and prophecy.

Ivy was actually awake, a rare treat. Her eyes were dark blue, normal for newborns, and I’d been told we’d have to wait a bit to see what color they settled into. I hoped they’d be violet like mine and continue the trend of the twins not looking like Kiyo.

The visit was too short. I wanted to keep trading twins back and forth with Roland, memorizing every single one of my children’s features. Both the NICU and our airline had their own schedules to keep, however, and we eventually had to give Isaac and Ivy back to their warm, enclosed homes. I left with a lump in my throat and hadn’t gotten very far outside the nursery when I spotted Evan waiting in the hall, leaning patiently against a wall. I came to a stop, and Roland cleared his throat.

“I’ll get the car and meet you up front, okay?” he said.

I nodded as he left and strolled over to Evan. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

Evan straightened up, giving me one of his warm smiles. “Here to see you. Sorry I couldn’t come by last night—we had some late back-to-school events I couldn’t miss. So, I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left.”

“I’m glad,” I said, surprised at the mix of feelings churning within me. I was still keyed up over my visit with the twins, and seeing him only added to the turmoil. “I would’ve hated to leave without saying good-bye.”

“Well,” he said. “It’s not really good-bye, is it? You’ll be back.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “I just don’t know when.”

“Well, you know we’ll take care of everything, so don’t you worry.”

I laughed. “You sound just like your aunt and uncle. Candace keeps saying the same thing.”

“Just telling it like it is.” He shrugged. “I know you wouldn’t go without a good reason. So, take care of what you have to, and know that we’re all here for you—and for them.” He nodded toward the nursery.

“I know ... and I’m sorry ... sorry I have to go... .”

Evan gently reached out toward me and placed his fingers under my chin, tipping my head up so that I had to look at him. “Why are you apologizing? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Maybe. The truth was, I wasn’t entirely sure why I was apologizing either. Lots of reasons, I supposed. I felt bad for leaving Isaac and Ivy. I felt bad for leaving Evan.

“I just feel like I’m abandoning everyone,” I admitted.

“Abandoning would be taking off without leaving any provisions for your children or if you just left on a whim. None of that’s true.”

That well-worn thought came to me again, of how simple life would be here, with him. The “simple” part had nothing to do with the Southern jokes I’d made when Roland first sent me here. It was all about this family, these people with their unconditional love and willingness to let everyone make their own choices. It was about a lifestyle free of politics and schemes. I took hold of Evan’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you. For everything. I really appreciate it.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “For what, taking you fishing?”

“Yes, actually. And all the other million little activities you took me on. You have no idea how much it all meant to me, how much I needed those.”

“Well, geez,” he said, turning adorably flustered. I even caught sight of a blush. “I was just worried you were bored left alone at the house all day. If I’d known I was being rated, I would’ve taken you on a proper date.”

I laughed again and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You did, believe me. Countless times.”

He blushed further. “I don’t know about that. But when you get back, well ... then maybe ...”

“Maybe,” I agreed, stepping back. Even now, he was still cautious of pushing too hard on my boundaries. “Thanks again ... and thank you for, well, for them.” I pointed back at the NICU. “I know you’ll be just as busy with them as your aunt and uncle will be.”

Evan smiled. “There’s nothing to thank me for when it comes to those two.”

Our farewell took some of the sting out of having to leave the twins, but I was left melancholy and wistful for a whole new set of reasons as Roland and I began our journey home.

After a couple connections and layovers, we finally made it back to Tucson in early evening. For the first time in a very long while, I allowed myself to truly focus on something that wasn’t the twins. Tucson. How long had it been since I’d been here? Even before my time in Huntsville, I’d had to avoid my hometown for fear of gentry assassins. Looking at the Sonora Desert that surrounded the city, bathed in the oranges and reds of sunset, I felt a surge of joy spread through me. Home. Maybe Tucson didn’t have the magical pull of my Otherworldly kingdoms, but I’d ached for it nonetheless.

My mother cried out in joy when Roland and I walked into their house. She raced forward, catching me in a tight embrace. I thought I heard a muffled sob and hoped she wouldn’t cry because I was pretty sure I’d start crying too. She clung to me for a long time, as though fearing I might vanish again if she let go. When she finally stepped back, she took one look at me and asked, “What happened?” My body wasn’t a hundred percent back to its original shape, but it was pretty obvious I was no longer pregnant.

“You’re a grandmother,” I said, opting for simplicity.

Since it looked like my mom was on the verge of passing out, we all moved to the kitchen table in order to recap what had been happening. Roland and I had plenty of digital pictures to share, and my mother pored over them, a look of wonder on her face that I was pretty sure mirrored mine. She grilled us on the twins’ health and the hospital’s care, then moved on to an examination of the Reeds.

For her own safety, I didn’t tell my mom where the Reeds lived. As I described them, I had a momentary weird feeling as I realized this all read like some sort of real-life fairy tale. Two children, living in obscurity with a childless couple, only to discover later that they were the offspring of a fairy queen.

Once my mother was satisfied Ivy and Isaac were getting quality care, she moved on to much more momlike things. “Did you really have to name her Ivy?” my mother asked. She wrinkled her nose. “It’s such a ... hippie name.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a fine name. And it sounds nice with Isaac.”

My mother looked skeptical. “Well. So do Isabelle and Irene.”

There was no question I’d stay overnight at their house, but I knew that was probably the only time I could spend in Tucson. My mother would’ve kept me forever if she could, but Roland and I both knew that I couldn’t delay much longer in getting to the Otherworld. I planned on spending most of the next day acquiring gear for the wintry conditions of the Otherworld’s blight. Roland shook his head when I told him that night that I planned on getting my down coat from my own house the next day.

“You’re going to need more than that,” he said ominously. “You need to go all out. Scarves, gloves, boots. Then layer up underneath those.”

“This is summer in Tucson,” I reminded him, just in case he hadn’t noticed the weather right outside his window. “Where am I going to find that stuff?” There was actually a thriving ski trade outside of town in the winter, so getting supplies wouldn’t have been that difficult any other time of year.

“It’s out there. You’re just going to have to do a little bit of hunting.”

He was right. Daytime found me on quite the scavenger hunt as I scoured the city for sporting goods stores that had any meager winter stock. Secondhand stores provided some luck as well, particularly for things like sweaters. My Tucson nostalgia was still going strong, so in some ways, I didn’t mind driving all over. I was able to see all the familiar sights I’d missed and even grab lunch at one of my favorite hole-in-the-wall Southwest restaurants.

Late afternoon found me back in the Catalina Foothills, heading toward my own house. Just like everything else around here, it had been months since I’d been to the house. I pulled into the driveway and sat in my car for several minutes, taking in the familiar view. It looked exactly the way I’d left it, with its stucco finish and rock garden of a lawn. The house wasn’t big—it only had two bedrooms—but there’d been plenty of space for my needs. Plus, it had been mine, my own sanctuary, in a way that even the Otherworldly castles weren’t, seeing as those always had people coming and going.

I’d gotten a spare key from my parents and let myself inside, relieved the locks hadn’t been changed. I’d left the house in the care of my old roommate, Tim. He wasn’t the type to make radical changes, but if any Otherworldly denizens had come calling after I left, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Tim had taken some extreme security precautions.

When I stepped into my kitchen, however, I came to a total standstill and wished I’d brought a weapon. There was a stranger sitting at my table.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

He was wearing a stiff gray suit and had short, neatly trimmed black hair. His face was turned away from me as he rummaged through a briefcase on the table, but he jumped in alarm at the sound of my voice. He spun toward me, face showing the same panic I felt. After a few moments of study, however, his eyes widened, and his body relaxed.

“Eug?”

I stared, wondering how this guy knew my name, and then ... I saw it. I gasped in disbelief.

“Tim? Is that you?”

He flashed me a grin and settled back in the chair. “Of course it’s me. Who else would be here?”

I was dumbfounded and couldn’t answer right away. “But you ... you’re wearing a tie.”

He glanced down and scowled at the paisley silk monstrosity around his neck. “Yeah, it’s a pain, but my job has a dress code.”

“Your ... your job?” I felt like I’d wandered into some alternate reality and had to seek out a chair of my own at the table, lest I faint out of sheer mental exhaustion.

“Yup,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “I’m a productive member of society.”

“You cut your hair,” I said, reduced to simply pointing out the obvious.

“Another requirement of the job.” He absentmindedly smoothed some of his hair back and then brightened. “But they let me wear my headdress.”

“Your headdress?”

He jumped up again and disappeared down the hall that led to the bedrooms. While he was gone, I glanced around, looking for any other signs that I had entered a parallel universe. Nope. Everything else was the same. Tim returned shortly, carrying a full, feathered Lakota headdress that reached nearly to the floor. He put it on and grinned at me triumphantly.

“See?”

I looked him over from head to toe, taking in the formal suit juxtaposed with feathers. “Where exactly do you work?”

“I sell car insurance,” he explained.

“And they let you wear all that to work?”

He sat down again and left the headdress on. “They encourage it, actually. They really support the idea of a diverse workplace and wanted to hire as many minorities as they could. And even though there’s a dress code, it’s really important to them that their minorities express their unique cultural heritage. Wearing this is a way to bring some Native American influence into the workplace.”

“But Tim ... you aren’t Native American.”

This, at least, was semi-familiar territory. Tim, having few employable skills, had spent most of his life marketing what he did have: coloring and features that looked Native American to those who didn’t know any better. He’d rotated through various tribes (usually opting for non-Southwest ones, so as not to get in trouble with the locals) and played the part to help him get laid and sell bad poetry.

“That’s never stopped me before,” he said, following my very thoughts.

“Yeah, but when it comes to the workplace ... I mean, if you’re getting some kind of benefit, you usually have to show documentation or something. And I know you don’t have that.”

He shrugged. “I seemed so authentic that they didn’t even bother doing a background check. There was another guy interviewing for the same position. I think he was full-blooded Apache, but he didn’t do anything to play that up. Just showed up in a suit. If he’d worn war paint, he might have gotten hired over me.”

I groaned. “Probably he was doing something crazy, like—oh, I don’t know—relying on professionalism and job skills. What on earth drove you to get a job anyway? I mean, I’m impressed—well, not with the fake Lakota act—but it’s not something I expected from you.”

“That makes two of us.” His earlier enthusiasm dimmed. “It was all Lara’s doing. She said if you weren’t around, then it was ‘immoral’ for me to keep living here rent-free.” When we’d been roommates, Tim had earned his keep by doing housework and cooking.

I felt a smile creep over my face. “You’re still with her?” Tim getting together with my former secretary had been both unexpected and delightful. It was on par with Rurik and Shaya’s seemingly mismatched relationship.

“Yup.” Tim sighed. “Oh, the things I do for love, Eug. Anyway, yeah, she said it wasn’t right to drain your bank account for the mortgage, so I got a job, and she stopped the auto-deductions or whatever. Now we cover it.”

“So she lives here too,” I mused. I wasn’t surprised that Lara had been able to alter my mortgage payment options. She’d always known more about my finances and business affairs than I had. “Where is she? I’d love to see her.”

He glanced at the clock. “Still at work. That Enrique guy has her working crazy hours, but at least she pulls a lot of them.” That too was welcome news. As my business had dried up, I’d worried about Lara and had introduced her to a private detective who needed clerical help. Apparently things had worked out. “But forget about us. Where have you been? Jesus, Eug. It’s been, what? Almost half a year? I didn’t think you were coming back.”

There was legitimate hurt in his voice, and I realized that I hadn’t spared much care for friends who might have wondered at my disappearance. Tim knew I was involved with the Otherworld, but he had no idea of the extent of my entanglement. He hadn’t even known I was pregnant. I’d taken off before it was obvious.

“It’s complicated,” I said. “And messy. All I can tell you is that I had some, uh, things to take care of, and it was better for all of us that I stayed away.”

“Without even a hint that you were okay?” Again, the hurt and accusation in his voice took me aback.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I ... I just didn’t think. I can honestly say it was safer for you not to know, but I should’ve sent some message ... or even left a note.”

“If the visitors we initially had were any indication, I can understand the ‘safe’ part,” he admitted.

“Visitors?” My earlier instincts may have been right after all.

He waved a dismissive hand, like it was no big deal. “Yeah, kind of a random assortment. I don’t know what kind of creatures they all were—Lara could probably tell you. Your old man was around a lot and got rid of them, and before long, they stopped coming. I guess they recognized a lost cause.”

I hadn’t realized Roland had done that for me, though it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He was the kind of conscientious person who would think of things like that. I owed him. If it hadn’t been for him, Tim might not be so blasé about his “visitors.”

“So, hey, that’s taken care of. No harm done. Now. Let’s move on to more important things.” He stood up and took the headdress off. “What do you want for dinner? It’s been a while, but I still remember your favorites. We’ve even still got a stash of Milky Ways.”

I grinned. “I’ll take those, but I’m afraid I can’t stick around. I’ve got to get a few things and then head out.”

Tim had been about to open a cupboard and stopped. His face fell. “Can’t you even stay to see Lara? She’ll probably be back in, oh, an hour. Two at most.”

I glanced at the clock and felt my own disappointment. “I don’t think I can. I’m heading out of town again and still have to figure things out.” Aside from my mom wanting to see me tonight, Roland and I had a few logistics to discuss about my Otherworldly trip.

“Damn,” Tim said. “You sure do know how to toy with a guy’s emotions, Eug.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, flashing what I hoped was a sympathetic look. “I’ll try to be back soon. Honest.” I wondered how Tim would feel if he knew that when I did come back, I might have two babies in tow.

He nodded. “Okay. Can I at least help you get what you need?”

“Sure,” I told him. “I need to dig out my winter stuff—like, my real winter stuff.”

That got a raised eyebrow, and he asked no questions. We were able to locate what I wanted quickly, largely because—despite his many quirks—Tim ran an efficient household and had had everything neatly arranged in storage. Once that was set, it was time for good-bye. Just like all my other partings, I felt guilty over this one. At least I knew Tim didn’t need me, not like others did. Plus, I was actually able to say good-bye this time, instead of disappearing on him. Surely that had to count for something.

I left him shortly thereafter and headed back toward Roland and Mom’s house. Again, I felt that ache in my chest as I took in the gorgeous scenery of the foothills. I loved this area. It was why I’d shaped the Thorn Land in its image. It hardly seemed fair to be leaving here so soon, yet at the same time ... a thrill of excitement ran through me. Part of my heart might be here in Arizona, but the rest of it was tied up elsewhere, in a place I was burning to see as much as I had been to see this one.

Tomorrow I would return to the Otherworld.