The Unveiling

Chapter Eight

I sat opposite Chase eating toast and peanut butter as he scrolled through his phone. 

“Who are you texting?” I asked, stretching my arms above my head. 

His deadpan stare spoke volumes. 

“Seriously, I mean how many people are you even in contact with in this realm? You’ve been on that thing for over an hour.” 

“Just because I don’t stay in this realm permanently doesn’t mean that I don’t have eyes and ears here reporting back.” 

I sat quietly, working through some things. Today was laundry duty again, but we only had to be there later this afternoon, which left most of the day wide-open for training. 

“Can I use your phone for a second? I really need to send a message to someone.” I asked, trying to shove down the nerves that were threatening to work their way up my throat. If he said no, I wasn’t sure what my next option would be. I also needed to take a chance and gauge where Chase stood in this global struggle for power. 

“Where is yours?” he asked, without even looking up from what he was typing. 

I sighed, laying my palms flat on the table. “They took my phone when I arrived here with the promise of an upgrade.” 

He stopped typing and looked up at me. 

“Don’t say it,” I said. 

He grimaced, “Fine, but you need to address it with Mayor Winters,” he said and duly handed over his phone. 

It’s Reya. Have been placed in a basecamp. Need to talk to you, This is not my number, but if you reply here I can still respond. Satchels, Crackers and Cheese. 

I quickly sent off a text to Shay. He didn’t know where I was and I owed it to him to tell him, and I also considered him my best friend and family, so I needed to tell him - or someone. Right now, no one from my old life even knew I was in a basecamp. No one knew I was half-angel. It was like I was being secluded or cut off from everything I once knew under the guise of ‘it’s for the best’ or ‘simply be patient.’ 

One evening Shay and I were sitting on the rooftop of our building, discussing the merits of philosophers' past, if mythology was still relevant in light of the veil lifting, and the notion of a global government. 

“You know that some of the folks that were previously wealthy or important are petitioning to have some sort of vaccine or injection created so that they can gain additional powers. It’s supposed to ‘even the playing field’, but honestly they’re just pissed that maybe they were once at the top of the food chain and now they’re simply Nymphs and Pixies and stuff.” 

I scrunched up my nose, “Do you think people would actually go for those injections?” I asked. 

“People are power hungry Reya, and with the balance unsettled and power shifting, it’s bound to make people desperate.” 

I shuddered at the thought. 

“Well, it wouldn’t make a difference to me,” I claimed boldly, “at the end of the day it doesn’t matter who holds my leash, in the end we still have to answer to some sort of master.” 

“Well that’s a bit melodramatic and morbid,” Shay frowned. 

I shrugged. 

“I mean, we’ll still be scavenging and hustling the streets, regardless of any power plays at stake, so what is the difference actually.” 

Shay laughed loudly. 

“Stop being so damn practical Reya, at least engage in the conversation and allow yourself to dream.” 

“Of what?” I demanded, “We both sleep with a satchel next to our beds with a stash of stale cheese and some old crackers in case we ever need to grab and run.” 

He looked at me for a long while, “There may be a time Reya, when you wish for the days of owning a stachel filled with old crackers and stale cheese.” 

I blinked back from the memory. Damn Shay for being right. My message had been my way of telling him that I may be out of my depth and might actually have to grab and run. 

Before I could even hand the phone back to Chase, Shay had replied. 

Old warehouse in the Alpines. Today. 

That was all Shay replied. There wasn’t much else to say. He didn’t trust this form of communication. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was actually me texting him, and so he wanted to meet at the old dynamite factory in person. Actually, knowing Shay he was probably planning to blow anyone up who wasn’t me on arrival. 

I glanced up to find Chase watching me. 

“Is there a chance that you need to run any errands outside of the compound?” I asked hesitantly. 

One blink. 

“You want to meet up with your old friends,” he spoke matter-of-factly. 

I shrugged, “I did kind of disappear overnight, and the people here haven’t exactly been open to the idea of me exiting this place.” 

He laughed loudly. 

“What is this realm coming to. Source save me. You’re actually asking me - someone from a completely different realm to you - than your own kind.” 

I sank into my chair, wondering just how badly I had already foiled my plan-in-the--making. 

“I’ll tell you what Reya, I’ll do this for you, and I’ll take the heat, but when the time comes that I need something from you - you’ll deliver. Do we have a deal?” His eyes had a glint of excitement in them as he spoke, and I wondered exactly what it would mean to owe the Fae Prince of the Elemental Court a favour. 

I shove down the nagging voice screaming at me that this was a bad idea, stuck my hand out and grasped his palm. Warmth engulfed me as our hands shook with a white light emanating from between our clasped palms. The deal had been made, and I understood in that moment that there would be no coming back from this. Was meeting Shay today worth it? Was anything worth putting myself at the mercy of the Full blooded Fae Prince?

I didn’t want to answer that. I didn’t even want to examine the question for too long. 

True to his word, Chase drove past the guards at the boomed gate and told them that he had some meetings outside of the compound he needed to attend to. Naturally, I fell under his protection for the duration of my training - so anywhere he went, I went. 

The guards didn’t even question it, and simply opened the boom and allowed us through. Although, I suppose no one in their right mind would really question a high ranking Fae official from another realm. 

The road to the factory was long, winding and all uphill between some rocky mountains. Large trees lined either side of the road within some of the sections of the route, the branches stretching across to one another, as if reaching for an embrace. It created a canopy of autumn leaves, that depicted all sorts of shades of oranges and golds and browns. 

We drove in silence for most the way, with my only interruption pertaining to the giving of directions. 

“When I’m within places like this, it’s easy to forget that I’m not back home,” Chase spoke in reference to the all-encompassing Autumn air that surrounded us. In that moment, I wondered if he felt as uncomfortable at Basecamp as I did. If he missed home as much as I missed and longed for the idea of home, or a place to belong. Was this place my home? I didn’t think so. In fact, I had never truly felt at home. Even as a child, whilst stomping my feet in a tantrum-like-format, I would yell ‘I want to go home!’ - despite the fact that I was in my own house. My mother didn’t quite know what to do with that. And even then, as I said the words, I didn’t know why I said them, only that I did. In fact, they felt like the most natural things to express. 

“What’s your job as a Fae Prince?” I asked. 

He smiled. 

“Job descriptions and titles don’t quite work in the same way in my realm as they do here,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” I leant my head back further into my seat. 

“My job is fluid. It tends to change in accordance with what my people need, my Court needs and what my father needs.” 

My dumbfounded expression had found its way onto my face. 

He smiled, “You see, that’s one of the problems in this realm. Everything is so stifling and limiting, as if you can only possibly be one thing, or do one thing. No, beings are much more dynamic and multifaceted than that. Take last spring for example: We had a shortage of rainfall, which would impact the harvest for the year, and so part of my job was to draw in rain. When we were having border disagreements with a neighbouring court, I led a small team of elite soldiers to the borderline to settle the dispute. And, when we found a spy in our court it was up to me to deal with him and notify the opposing court. So what does that make me? Head of agriculture? Captain of the Guard? Ambassador of Foreign Affairs?” 

He watched me as he spoke. “I am all of those things and yet none of them, because I am fluid in my role of serving my people,  court and father. In that understanding I am more than a title and the limitations and beliefs that come with that.” 

I frowned at him, “hold on, are you saying that no-one has a title?” 

He nodded. 

“What about a baker? Surely a baker is a baker? Or does the baker also summon clouds from the sky?” 

“Ah Reya, you are thinking about this too literally. The baker will of course have a talent and a passion for baking, and so naturally they may assume that role, but it doesn’t not define them. Even when people rely on them for bread, should the need arise for them to assist their town in any way outside of baking, they will gladly do it. I have seen too many people in this realm who will do only what their job states or entails, and not an ounce more because ‘it’s not part of their job description’, ‘or they’re not paid to do that’. And of course, in counter-argument to that, there are many employers who would and have abused the system, But in my realm, it doesn’t work like that. The baker may also have gifts of water wielding, which in turn helps his baking, so when a well runs dry in the town, he will gladly go and help other water wielders in locating a new well, and once that task is complete, he’ll simply return to the bakery.” 

“But what if there are people relying on him to make bread and he’s off somewhere digging a well?” 

“Again, your own views and experiences are limiting. My people are not so cold that they wouldn’t be patient enough for him to return, and if the bread situation were indeed dire, then someone else would step in and assist in the bakery until he returned. It’s the basis of community. True community. Not these basecamps that you have here. In your world, no one trusts one another, and if someone helps you, you question why. ‘Why are they helping me?’ with the idea that there needs to be a quid pro quo basis for assisting someone or giving back somehow. Even your damn charities are structured in a way that many only assist simply to get a tax rebate of some sort - not because they have any inkling or care towards the cause.” 

“And I suppose your world is better?” I asked harshly, but the truth is that within me burnt a kernel of hope. 

He grinned and said, “You’ll have to come and see for yourself Reya.”