Elves Invasion

35

“When I first met you I kept scanning you over and over. Everything was the same. Every cell in your body was Lillian’s, but you weren’t her.” Windyard frowned. “In the cabin, right before you claimed me, I wondered if by letting you claim me, would Lillian be claiming me through you? But no, it hasn’t been that way. Maybe every person has their own vibration, regardless of how many versions of us there are, and if every person does, maybe every place does, too.” His brow furrowed. “Because you can feel it. You can feel that this place is different from any other, and it’s not just the way it looks or smells. It just is different somehow. Like you were different somehow.”

Ava looked out at the water and felt the pulse of the ocean as it battered the shore. She felt the heat of the sun hitting the earth and radiating back in waves. She felt the wind press and push, lift and swirl, random and rhythmic all at once.

“I can’t find it,” she said.

“You will,” Windyard replied confidently. “Now, oatmeal or pancakes?”

Ava smiled at him. “Pancakes. Please.”

Windyard moved away from her to go back to the stove, and Ava found herself following as if every step he took tugged her along behind him.

A few more people stopped in while the coven waited for Breakfast and Eye to return, and Windyard fed them, too. One of the guys might have even been the owner of the house, but he didn’t seem too concerned that a stranger had commandeered his kitchen. He wandered in, ate, and wandered out saying, “Thanks, Robert. Excellent hollandaise, by the way,” to Windyard, as if he was accustomed to having someone else prepare his meals.

“Yeah, thanks, Robert,” Una said, snickering.

“Should we tip you?” Tristan asked, stretching out the joke.

Windyard grinned and took his ribbing happily. Slowly, in increments, they were accepting him back.

Breakfast and Eye returned with the rental car before noon. Breakfast rolled up, arm hanging out of the driver’s side window and bass thumping from the tinny speakers of the doublewide soccer-mom minivan.

“Hey, fancy lady. Want a ride in my precision automobile?” Breakfast catcalled to Una.

“How can I resist,” she deadpanned. “The color tan gets me all worked up.”

Breakfast parked and jumped out of the car, chasing Una around lecherously. Eye got out of his truck and came over while the rest of the coven checked out the rental.

“Seating for seven,” Caleb said, and then checked himself. They were only six now.

Ava felt heat race through her—the ear-burning, voice-thickening kind that comes before tears. She cleared her throat and smiled for no reason.

“I go to Yosemite all the time,” Eye said, looking disturbingly hopeful at Caleb’s mention of an extra seat. “There are so many hidden spots I could show you. Really special stuff.”

It took a second for Ava to catch up, but she assumed that Breakfast had told Eye that they were going to Yosemite as a cover story.

“Well, unfortunately we have to leave today,” Ava said. “Now, actually.”

“I could leave today,” Eye said, his optimism increasing. “I could have a bag packed in ten minutes.”

Damn it, Ava said to her coven in mindspeak. Doesn’t anyone have a real job in this state? Someone help me get rid of this guy.

“Look, Mills. My man,” Breakfast said, putting a hand on Eye’s shoulder and pulling him aside, “this is a hard time for us. A friend died. It’s sort of a memorial trip, you know?”

While Breakfast let Eye down easy, Ava took the keys to the car. “I’ll be back with the cash,” she said.

Windyard got in the passenger side and buckled himself in before anyone could tell him not to, and they drove to the Walmart off Route 1. Ava waited in a short line at the money center. She did not tilt her eyes up at the surveillance camera behind the counter, but as she picked up the cash Juliet had wired to the money center, she knew. They were on borrowed time now. She and Windyard took to the aisles to shop as quickly as they could without seeming suspicious.

“This will fit Caleb,” Windyard said, holding up a pair of jeans.

“These will fit,” Ava said, correcting him. “Jeans are plural.”

“I always wondered why,” Windyard replied, a quizzical smile on his face. “It’s one article of clothing.”

“Yeah, but there are two leg holes.”

“Nope,” Windyard said, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know what? It doesn’t,” Ava said, a smile dawning on her. “It really doesn’t make any sense at all. We should just start calling them jean.”

Windyard c****d his head, letting the sound of the word marinate, and pulled a face. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It sounds awful.”

“Jeans it is.”

They went back to shopping, both of them smiling to themselves. Windyard had pretty much kept to the rule of staying several feet away from her unless he was saving her from imminent danger, but now Ava found herself edging closer to him. After catching her doing it a few times as they walked side by side down the aisles, Windyard didn’t move away. They filled the cart, each item they placed in it giving them the chance to be in the other’s personal space and, occasionally, even touch.

They selected nondescript clothes with no labels or bright colors, black backpacks, and hoodies. They loaded up on snacks and water for the drive, stopped at a gas station, and then went back to the house to pick up the rest of the coven.

Windyard and Ava followed the sound of laughter. The other end of the wraparound deck had an infinity pool where the coven was enjoying the summer sun. Past the pool, a grill stood off to the side by a fire pit that was surrounded by several teak deck chairs. A brick-red umbrella mushroomed cheerfully over the outdoor eating area, framing the scene, and drawing the eye out into the endless blue where sky met water.

“All that’s missing is the dog,” Ava said, recalling Windyard’s dream of California.

Windyard’s head snapped around. His smile was sad as he shook his head. “That’s not the only thing that’s missing.”

He left her with Juliet and Tristan hanging between them, their ghosts pushing Ava and Windyard apart with invisible hands.