Stretched hand
Elara
Everyone aside from Lucas and Kendrick were welcome. Then again, there were mostly just two main visitors, with old, cold Logan visiting one more time after that one time and mostly just staring at me.
“Our esteemed healer mentioned he healed rather quickly,” the old man said. “Interesting.” He said, and that was it. He had a small smile on his face as though he knew something, as though he was teasing me to ask, but I didn't ask, and it was a rather proud moment for myself. I wouldn't give these people what they wanted. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of anything, and so when Lucas came around I had probed so many times he simply caved.
“The rumor has spread,” he said.
“What rumor?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Oh, you know.” He waved, his expression a little strange. He usually had an easy smile on his face when he walked in; in a way I found the way his pace relaxed to be refreshing, but today it was stiff. In fact, the last two times he came it was stiff. Kendrick had said something along the lines of him coming every day, or at least every other day, and that he's been angry for reasons only known to him lately. I could see it. The amusement I had seen on his face the first time I met him was now mostly gone, replaced with something akin to a brooding state.
Somehow I guessed what was wrong. I guessed it from the moment I saw his eyes meet mine.
“I didn't think you'd be so concerned about me,” I said. “I mean, it's nice to know that someone here aside from the person who probably sees me as a science experiment is worried too.” He smiled—only a shadow of one, however—in a way that still got me worried. He leaned closer, scooting slightly toward me and then resting his hands on his knees.
“Are you aware of what your fate is here? How you're nothing more than a little pet, really? A pet that can be killed or everyone risks the owner's wrath.”
“He did something again,” Lucas said.
“What do you mean?” He looked at me, his eyes shining with recognition. “Oh, you don't know? I thought someone would have told you by now. At the council room the other day, when most of the council members were pushing for your death, he lost it—really. He lost control of his beast. It was rather interesting to watch and scary at the same time. I've never seen him like that—only once. I knew alphas were possessive in normal everyday life, but you see this one,” he said slowly. “I saw a beast that couldn't be reasoned with, a beast that couldn't be calmed, and I saw his human flesh lose all reasoning, losing everything just because of you.”
“I should go ahead bury my fat jawns.”
“No, that's how it is. That's how we are. When we mate, everyone has one, you know—there are other halves and you are his, even though you probably won't admit it.”
“No,” I said fervently. “I'm not going to admit it. Maybe if I don't, it will go away. It should go away. In fact, if I pinch myself hard enough I'll discover that I'm in a dream. But unfortunately I got slashed in this dream, so maybe until my wound heals I won't wake up.” I looked away from him.
Did I sound delusional? Yes. Was I delusional? You bet your ass you were.
But perhaps I didn't want to accept reality because if I did it would make it too real, and I wouldn't be able to go back to my life as it was before. Then again, did I really have anything to go back to? Still, I would rather be scouring the streets and checking dumpsters for food than being kept here against my will, and I would rather be at least able to defend myself than be a sitting duck surrounded by alligators. Maybe he could help me, I thought. Maybe he would help me and I wouldn't be a sitting duckling anymore or a lone allowance surrounded by lions. Everyone here was a freaking predator—even the person they said I was supposed to be destined to be with.
“Do I believe in destiny?” I said out loud. “I don't believe in destiny. I don't believe in fate. I think it's messed up. I think life is messed up. I don't care about destiny and stupid shit like that.”
I looked up towards the ceiling, the high strange feeling reminding me of myths from far-off times and farm-to-sea stories. There was a kind that was embellished with whatever the heck it was, and then I looked toward the large window in front of me. It was nearly a floor-to-ceiling window opened wide, inviting me to jump outside. But then there was the fall. The fall was about two stories, maybe three—being that the roof I was in was probably at least fifteen feet high, and so there were two floors underneath. How did I know? My silly ass had checked one time. I opened the window and, voilà, it was a full three-story drop. If I dropped that in my current injured state, there’d be a high chance I'd break my neck and die. No can do, I thought to myself, because I looked out to the tree line way ahead. What was after the trees? I asked myself, glad that there was no fence between myself and what could be my freedom. Maybe if I walked long enough in that direction I'd find myself in the human world again.
“Whatever you’re thinking about, don’t do it.” Logan’s voice pulled me back into the room.
“What? I didn’t—look at him yet. Did I? I’m a bird and I can fly wherever I want to? Thinking of wherever I want—how does this work exactly? Does it mean that the human world and hero world exist in parallels? Is it the same place but mirrors of each other? Or is it inverted? You know, like that one anime where the world was upside down in the game?”
I looked at him this time. “No, it’s not like that one anime,” I said slowly. “This is an American— we exist in plain sight and the cracks of reality we exist. This place is magic, created by magic. We share the same sun; we share the same planet. It’s just reality, magic, space, magic, time—magic works differently. It was a hospital made to fit this place.”
“Okay…” I was confused, I thought to myself. “If you didn’t make it, then who did?”
“The gods did,” he said. “And then demons. I’m serious, Lucas—seriously, who made this place? How did this world come to exist? Is it somebody’s pocket universe or the like?”
“No,” he said. “This is the place one of the gods created. And yes, they exist.” I squeezed my nose and scrunched up my lips. “Yeah, right,” I said. “The gods exist.”
“I cough. Then again, werewolves exist, elves and so do witches. What next? Sent wars? Mermaids? Oh wait—let me guess—dragons too?”
He smiled slightly. “Yes,” he said. “Every creature you can think of. Dragons, Greek mythology—at least, as you humans like to call it. Nor is it mythology here. It’s not mythology; it’s our stories. It’s our legend. It’s real.”
He smiled. “I didn’t expect you to understand this immediately. Maybe eventually you’ll come to know it. We have a goddess; the goddess commissioned our birth. We were born from her blood, and alphas are those with a higher concentration of her blood in their veins.”
I held up a hand, feeling my brain frying already. “Let’s dial it back just a smidge, shall we?”
He gave me a nudge. “Think about it this way: everything you know, everything you thought you knew—your reality—exists in one plane. There’s another place, which is why it’s original that you’re here. But every once in a while the barrier weakens. A human sometimes can fall through—really, driving on suspectively over the last century. I remember the car still someone around. So sometimes we can see them, you know, the twinkling lights of their cities. The difference between us is how fast they develop, even though their lives are barely like a matchstick.”
I gave a small nod this time. I began to feel my eyebrows ache; if there was anything like that, I had been frowning too much or perhaps thinking too much and my brain was simply overheating. But I understood why he said it. It made sense when I thought about it deeper. I looked at him, giving him a nod to continue.
“How long do you live?” I asked.
He smiled. “Really long. We mature at about fifty years sometimes.”
“Fifty? How old are you?”
“Seventy-five,” he said with a triumphant grin.
I shook my head and turned my face away. “But generally our lifespan reaches sometimes to six hundred, maybe seven hundred if we don’t get killed. But we get killed all the time—rogue wars, what have you—one stupid thing after the other.” He chuckled.
Too much was going through my mind, but perhaps it was later rather than never to ask him. “Kendrick says my wound is healing a little too fast.”
I looked up, my mind calculating the prospects I had. “So once I’m gone— but I can’t leave because, well, I’m human, and the last time I tried to leave I was nearly mold to death.” I smiled apologetically.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You slipped out, right?”
“I mumbled.” “And if I slipped out again there’s a very high chance that I’d probably be mauled again, but I don’t want to test it. I don’t want to test fate.” I said with a small smile. I didn’t believe in it, but somehow I didn’t want to test it—oh, the irony.
“Can you help me?” I asked, drawing out my words a little too long and weakly. “I think I could be strong—or at least, even if I’m not strong like you people, I could learn how to use my weakness to my advantage, right?”
I looked at him and found him staring at me with white eyes. “You know I’m weak, right?”
He gave me a quick nod. “I could snap your neck in a second—not that I’m thinking about it, but it could happen,” he said. “You want to stand up for yourself? You want to leave with your head held high? I understand what it’s like to be somewhere you don’t want to be. Trust me.” His eyes blazed as he looked down toward my hands and then the floor. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll help you.”
Then again, if I helped you, I wouldn’t be doing myself a favor. He stood up, wiped his hands, and added, “Some things you’re doing for your own interests.”
I felt a playful smile cover my lips. “Isn’t anyone?” I asked.
“Trust me, I have a lot of interests,” he smiled, returning the playfulness but with an underlying message and a promise. At least he would help me—I thought that was one step in the right direction, hopefully.