Neither Fish nor Fowl
We headed north, which surprised me since we needed to head south. Even under the canopy of the trees, the sun was brutally hot that morning.
Pink blazed in the morning sky. Pink skies in morning, sailors take warning. The air was dense with humidity. According to the rhyme, a stormy evening lay ahead.
Greer was nearby, making plans for our trip. He didn’t mind making the phone calls with me around, but I asked to go take a nap in the moss instead because, embarrassed as I was to admit it even to myself, I was crushing on Greer, hard.
What an exercise in futility. He made me feel better, and he was keeping me safe. He was helping me. It was messing with my feelings.
To avoid all Greer thoughts, I imagined being home. Mom and Dad eating BLTs. Grandma asleep. I pictured it all. Sitting in the quiet with Mom and Dad, eating a slice of cherry pie and drinking tomato juice (I love the stuff. No judging).
I’d be sitting there with my cell phone, checking out everyone’s plans for the night. The door would open—no knocking at our house—and there would be Greer in a white button-down shirt and khaki shorts. He’d come in and without saying a word, he’d sweep me into his arms and kiss me. My chair would slam against the wall from the passion.
No, I thought. It was supposed to be Sasha. Sasha should be at the door.
Oh, screw it. The thought was so good. In my fantasy, I switched the tomato juice for hot mint tea, better for kissing, and the kitchen disappeared along with my parents and I imagined the woods. Greer was kissing me right there next to the tent, his lips and tongue moving smoothly over and into mine, one hand entangled in my hair, the other around my waist, pulling me close. Finally, he’d break apart and say, You need something better to wear.
That one woke me up and shuttled me right back to reality. I’d go mad if I kept this crush going. He didn’t have the same feelings for me I had for him, and I needed to push the man from my mind, to worry about myself and making it out of the woods alive, to think about the mission Grandma sent me to accomplish.
I’d feel better after a short nap. I turned over on the lime green moss and attempted to sleep, but I couldn’t get comfortable. Something was off. Suddenly, the hairs on my arms rose, and a chill traveled down my spine. Someone or something was close by, and it wasn’t Greer.
If this was the Libratiers or a tiger, I had better get ready to fight. I crouched down and grabbed an egg-shaped rock, ready for anything.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shadow orb. Wiser than I was before, instead of moving towards the shadow, I backed away. The shadow might be another trap or, worse, maybe as bad as the shadow of Haverhill.
The shadow came towards me, and I backed up again. The shadow loomed closer and closer, but this time it grazed my skin and the world faded.
~*~
The throne room differed from before, bigger, more beautiful. I saw a version of myself on the throne, hair pulled back straight, in a plunging black gown. But I wasn’t me in the vision. I gazed down and saw dusty white powder on arms too long and muscular to be my own. This was like my dream. I was in a different body. I couldn’t see out of my left eye, and so the room seemed oddly shaped and distances felt further away and mismatched.
A hobblily old man with thick glasses and a large golden badge addressed the Waverly on the throne. “This is the one, your majesty.”
“Let’s see her!” I commanded to him from my throne. “Hold her head so I can see her good eye.”
The old man pulled up the chalky armed person’s head. In his shiny badge, I caught the reflection. Blood trickled down the cheek from a blood-soaked rag over the left eye. I knew in an instant who’s mind I was inhabiting. Chalky dust covered the hair of the Marble Cutter.
“No use in hurting yourself, was there? A Merric will always get you in the end. Now look to your queen. So gray the eyes of death.”
I was back in the forest. The shadow no longer touched my skin and instead made infinity signs on the ground.
Greer walked into the clearing and said, “We’re all set.” He took one look at me and knew something was wrong. “What happened? Is there another bird?”
“What is that?” I pointed to the shadow before me.
“I see nothing.” Greer stepped closer to inspect the tree. “What am I not seeing?”
The shadow jumped once more, this time landing on a white spindly tree. I pointed again. “What is that?”
“A young aspen. Why?”
“No, not the tree, the shadow thingy. There.” I pointed right to it.
Worried, Greer put his hand on my forehead like I had a fever. “You feel cold again.”
I knew it was true, but I shouldn’t have been. It was humid. Before the shadow touched me, I’d been sweating.
“Are there orbs out here that attack you with nightmares and make you feel cold?” I asked.
Greer shook his head. “If that technology exists, I’ve never heard of it.”
Great. Just great. Strange attacking shadows. Shadows. I was seeing shadows and deep down, I recognized the truth. I knew this story. I would need this cure as much as Grandma. Find the words. We didn’t have time to waste. “Any good news from your calls?”
“Yes, we’ve got to get you cleaned up and with more than just your pack.”
Greer threw me a Cloverfield bar.
“I’m going to kill this guy,” I said as I opened the cherry chalk bar. “Seriously, I had a meeting all set up with Cloverfield. If I met him now—”
“Then I shouldn’t tell you we’re going to one of
