The Egg (Return of the Ancients Book 4) (3 page)

Two of the Protectors responded with their three-fingered salute, and bending down, each placed a hand on Jareth’s shoulder. An instant later, they were gone.

I could only stare at where Jareth had been, unable to really feel anything.

Pulling me to my feet, Rafael spun slowly on his heel and surveyed the damaged coffee shop.

The customers were still catatonic. Without Jareth to wake them up, I didn’t see any hope for them. I knew Blondie wasn’t about to come back and restore them to consciousness out of the goodness of his little chupacabra heart. I wasn’t even sure that the chupacabra bodies even
had
hearts.

“Restore this place,” Rafael ordered the remaining Protectors as his arm locked protectively around my shoulders.

Immediately, the Protectors fanned out as Al joined us, tall and very bald in his army fatigues.

We didn’t speak. We couldn’t. We just watched as the Fae spoke unintelligible words into their trions and sparks of light filled the room like magical fairy dust. I suppose that is truly what it was and that stories about sparkly pixie dust actually derived from the Fae’s control over light.

The glass, every shard and speck of it, flew back to where it had originated from in a slow-motion reversal of the explosion. We watched all the pieces knit themselves back into whole plate glass windows, dishes, and mirrors. And the Fae Protectors didn’t stop there. Some began to rejuvenate the coffee in the paper cups, rewarming and frothing the foam in the lattes. A couple of them stooped to stand the barista who’d fainted back up again in front of her espresso machine.

It was then that I saw my friend, Ellison. I looked at his brown, close-cropped hair and into his even darker, unseeing eyes. It was soul-wrenching to see him like that. Frozen. Suspended. And it was then that I began to panic. Really panic. How were we going to wake him up? Was he going to die, too?

I scanned everyone in the room. Each of these people had lives. People who loved them.

Something moved outside.

Looking through the large glass windows, I spied Samantha pulling up in a sleek black car. I watched, numb, as she hopped out, wearing a long gray trench coat, and a blue beret perched on top of her shoulder-length blonde hair. Stepping up to a window, she rapped on the glass and shading her eyes, briefly peered inside as her thin lips creased into a disapproving frown.

“What are we going to do?” I heard my gargled whisper.

“There is nothing
to
do,” Rafael admitted tersely.

With a slight impatient gesture, Samantha turned away to retrieve an armful of pink cake boxes from the trunk of the car. Balancing the boxes so high that she couldn’t see around them, she headed for the coffee shop’s front door.

Nudging the door open with her hip, I heard her peppery voice command, “Give me a hand here, will you, Sydney?”

I don’t know why she always picked me. And somehow, my feet obeyed her, even as my stunned brain remained frozen.

I’d taken about half a dozen steps before sounds registered in my hazy thoughts. The gasps of the Fae Protectors. The clinking of mugs. Several gargled screams followed quickly by nervous laughs.

I stopped, dead in my tracks and my mouth fell open. Turning a full 360 degrees, my eyes took a rapid circuit of the room.

The customers were suddenly awake.

Next to me, a portly man moaned to his companion how every diet he’d tried was doomed to fail. A grade-schooler was begging in a wheedling tone for his mom to buy him a new game for his phone. A woman who had been pointing to the pastry case, on the verge of screaming in terror, shook her head instead and stared at her piping hot latte, perplexed.

“Take the top three boxes, Sydney,” Samantha instructed briskly.

I jerked around and took my assigned boxes, too stunned to do anything else.

Samantha’s sharp eyes swept me from head-to-toe. “Be quick, Sydney,” she said pointedly, her tone taking on a crisp edge. “We don’t have all day.”

I followed her back to the pastry case to where Rafael and the Fae Protectors looked just as shocked and confused as I was.

“Didn’t see you guys come in,” Ellison was telling them from behind the counter. “Poof! It’s like you just appeared out of thin air.” He stood there, holding a coffee mug with his lips twisted into a slightly bewildered, lopsided grin.

A couple of the Protectors gave fake laughs. They’d have been better off remaining silent. The laughs only underlined the awkwardness growing more pronounced by the minute.

Plopping her boxes down onto the counter before Ellison, Samantha retorted with a brusque, “Nonsense, Ellison. See to your customers now, will you? Hop to.”

Dusting her hands, she turned to survey the coffee shop with a critical eye.

I held my breath as I stood behind her, still holding onto the pink cake boxes.

None of us moved.

Finally, Samantha’s penetrating eyes pierced mine. “Sydney, can you explain what is going on?”

I swallowed. Even though the customers had magically woken up the moment she’d arrived, how could I tell her the truth? Samantha was one tough cookie, but I didn’t think she could handle the entire group of Mesmers
and
Melody. Especially since I wasn’t even certain she
was
actually responsible for everyone’s spontaneous recovery.

“Uh, well…” was all I managed to get out.

She waited about two seconds. Patience wasn’t her strong suit. “Where’s Jareth?” she asked sternly, her shoulders rigid. “I was very clear with him that the filming couldn’t start until next week.”.”

It took me a moment to recall that Jareth had covered for the Fae Protectors before by telling her they were actors for his new music video. But any sigh of relief I might have wanted to utter was completely stifled as she repeated the question.

Raising a brow, she searched the surrounding tables. “Where
is
Jareth?”

Jareth.

A wave of grief rose to encompass me.

“The actors are simply gaining familiarity with their surroundings,” Rafael’s smooth voice inserted itself in an explanation. He was a master at deflecting conversations. “But there doesn’t appear to be enough room for them to stay long. They’ll be on their way. Your coffee shop is only growing more popular by the day.”

Samantha sent him a long, considering look before gracing him with a microscopic nod, but she wasn’t deterred so easily. Pursing her lips, her eyes zeroed back to mine. “I’ll find Jareth later. You look sick, Sydney. Are you ill?”

I didn’t trust my voice to sound normal, so I just nodded.

Al stepped forward then. “She called me,” he boomed in his loud, comforting voice. Somehow, just hearing him made me feel that all would be right in the world. Eventually. His brows furrowed in the typical Al-manner as he added, “I’ve come to take her home, Sam.”

In spite of everything that was happening, I blinked in surprise at that.
Sam?
Samantha didn’t seem to mind. She sent Al her version of a smile, the slight crinkling around the edges of her eyes. I guess Al was the only person in the world who could get away with calling her “Sam”.

“Yes, you do that,” she said, adopting a tone of professional detachment. “Get that kid some fluids and vitamins. Also, take a bottle of that organic, fresh-squeezed orange juice home with you and blend it with some spinach or kale. Be quick, Al. Preventing illness by being proactive is key. And remember, food is medicine. Move now, Sydney. Time to leave!”

It was funny. Samantha didn’t give me the warm and fuzzies. Warm and fuzzy wasn't her style. But I knew she genuinely cared and probably even deeper than most. She was like a fierce lioness, one you could count on to defend you to the death.

“Go, Sydney,” she ordered as she turned her attention back to her cake boxes. “I need you here and healthy to handle Jareth when the filming starts.”

At the mention of his name, I turned away. And looked straight into Ellison’s shrewd eyes. Eyes that were narrowed in suspicion.

Setting his coffee mug down, he placed both hands down on the countertop between us, and asked in a quiet voice, so quiet that I could hardly hear it, “What happened?”

“Happened?” I asked, clearing my throat. I was a terrible liar.

“I thought…” he hesitated before giving a strange laugh as he looked down at the coffee mug. “
Déjà brew
! Somehow, I feel like I’ve seen this coffee before.”

“Really?” I asked carefully. “Well, you do make a lot of lattes.” I tried to force a laugh at his joke, but it was so obvious there wasn’t even one iota of amusement in it that it only heightened his suspicions.

Running a hand over his inch-long brown hair, he pointed to the corner table and the mirror that had started the whole mess. “Weren’t you sitting over there, eating lunch?” he asked. “One second, you’re sitting there talking to yourself in the mirror and your bracelet is glowing. Weren’t people just popping in here out of thin air? And the next, you’re standing here with all these actors like nothing happened. How did you do that?”

Before I could reply, Rafael’s arm slipped around my shoulders once again. With a laugh that sounded almost genuine, he lightly suggested, “Perhaps you should be the one going home, Ellison. Maybe you’re ill, too.”

“I don’t feel so well myself,” piped up the barista who had fainted. But as Samantha’s razor-sharp eyes slid in her direction, she quickly coughed and scurried back to the espresso machine. “Next customer?” she asked brightly.

Taking advantage of the distraction, we escaped to the kitchen and then out the back door to where Al’s yellow Ford pickup waited. The mist swirling around its oversized wheels betrayed the fact that one of the Fae had just shifted it from his driveway for our use. Or maybe Rafael had. But I didn’t feel like asking. I just wanted to be quiet. Too much had happened.

The three of us climbed into the cab, and Al drove home, past the group of Fae Protectors waiting at the bus stop. They watched us pass with slight frowns on their faces. Clearly, they would have preferred to shift back to Rafael’s house to the newly established Fae Command Center. But with Samantha still unpacking pink cake boxes from her car across the street, they had to keep up the pretense that they were mere actors and take a normal human mode of transportation back to Rafael’s house.

I don’t remember much of the ride home after that. It was raining, a soft fine mist. I just noted dimly that even though it was late in the afternoon, it was already growing dark. Seattle didn’t have much sunlight in the winter.

I felt lost and a bit disconnected from reality. When a bad thing happened to me, I usually tried to ignore it and stuff it away to be emotionally dealt with later. But, then I never would. Instead, I’d eventually forget about it, so the process worked for me. It just made life easier. But I didn’t want to ignore what had happened to Jareth. It just didn’t feel right. Besides, how could anyone pretend he’d never been around anyway? He was too obnoxious to forget.

I only became aware of my surroundings as I stepped onto the creaking porch of our bright blue rambler and Rafael’s hand dropped onto my shoulder in a comforting squeeze. Somehow, I’d exited the truck and followed him.

“I will return shortly,” he murmured, his lips brushing the tip of my ear. “You’re safe here. The Protectors are ready and on alert.”

That didn’t really inspire much confidence. For being the Elite Guards of the Fae royalty and such, the Protectors had actually seemed pretty useless in the coffee shop.

I guess it wasn’t hard to read my face. Rafael’s long finger hooked under my chin, forcing me to meet his clear, unwavering gaze.

“And you also have Al and Ajax,” he added softly, his cheek creasing into a whisper of an encouraging smile.

I attempted to smile back, but it was too hard. Instead, I just stood there, looking into his warm gray eyes flecked with tiny specks of blue. I could see the pain buried in them. He was suffering more than anyone knew over Jareth. After all, they were half-brothers, even though he’d just learned that recently. I didn’t know how to comfort him, especially when I was pretty much a mess myself. But with my heart filling with sympathy, I lifted my hand to tuck a lock of his blond hair back behind his ear.

His smile broadened and his long lashes closed for a brief moment.

I heard the slam of the truck door and the gravel crunching beneath Al’s boots as he joined us.

“I must leave,” Rafael informed Al then, stepping away from me. “But not for long.”

Al simply nodded, and we stood on the porch, watching Rafael sprint across the street to his two-story home that now housed the Fae Command Center.

The door to our blue rambler opened, and Betty poked her head out, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “Samantha said you’re sick, honey?” she asked, concerned.

I looked at my foster mom standing there with her mousy-brown hair framing her pleasant face and I wondered how I’d ever thought there was nothing unique about her. Once, I believed she’d be able to pull off the perfect crime because no witness would ever remember what she looked like. I had been so foolish. Betty was the sincerest, most caring person I’d ever met. How could I ever forget an inch of her gentle face, lovely smile, or the warmth in her kind eyes?

“Honey?” she repeated, looking more concerned.

“I’m okay,” I said quickly, my eyes misting with emotion.

Squaring his shoulders, Al stepped up to kiss his wife on the top of the head and then entered the house.

I followed, maneuvering around a pile of packages UPS had apparently just delivered for Betty’s eBay business. Not wanting to think about Jareth, I peered inside one of the opened boxes. It was a shipment of “Baby Mops”. They were ingenious, actually. Warm baby onesies that had chenille mops attached to the fronts, so when the babies crawled around, they would actually polish your floor.

I wandered into the kitchen and found Tigger right where I expected him to be, splayed out on the yellow tiles and snoring in front of the refrigerator. I crouched next to the old brindle bloodhound and fondly ruffled the fat rolls around his neck.