chapter One
“Nearly six thousand years ago, the country of Unith became a predominant world force. Unith was a place of peace, somewhere war had never touched, situated alongside the ocean. It was beautiful: flowers bloomed year round, streams wound longingly through the countryside, people were happy. Primarily, the country was made of smaller, picturesque towns that radiated from the capital of Ateri. Ateri was a colorful, vibrant city; it was the bustling hub of trade and the residence of the royal family...”
“Blah, blah, blah. We’ve heard this story a hundred times. Twins were born into the royal family, the sister that didn’t get picked to take the throne pms-ed and left, taking her minions of doom with her to create Korinth and then there was tentative peace until the sisters died and rising tension and more blah, blah, blah. Get a new story, Rebekah.”
The tall teen gave him a pointed glare, one hand on her hip. “Well, thank you, Mathieu, for that butchered version of our country’s history. You have a way with words.”
“Anything I can do to help.” Mathieu was sitting sideways in an armchair, his hair draped over the edge. He stretched slightly, internally groaning at the pull of his muscles from sitting too long.
“Fine,” Rebekah said, tapping her foot lighting on the carpet, “how about this. Korinth isn’t just a principality; it’s also the haven of this country’s oddities. How is that for a new story?”
Mathieu straightened in his seat. “Oddities?”
She nodded, looking out the window. The setting suns caught her brown hair in a cascade of soft tones. She was pretty, if plain. “Yes. There are some people within the population of Unith that have been the victims of genetic mutations. They’re…different than we are. It’s said that they’re tapped into the Other Side.” Rebekah shrugged. “That’s the rumor, anyway. Supposedly, Korinth is the haven for them. Also, it’s supposed to be all one, giant walled-in city where there isn’t any separation between classes or people. Everyone there is equally…er, ‘odd’, so they live peacefully.”
Mathieu spun in his seat, feet on the floor. He tapped his bare heels on the carpet in a tuneless pattern. His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he stood. “Tell me something…if this is, in theory, a war-free country like we claim, why do we have need for an army?”
“I don’t know.” Rebekah sighed and put her hand on Mathieu’s hand. “That’s a question better suited for when you’re older.” She smiled softly and ruffled his bangs. Mathieu huffed as she left the room.
Darrel sat up from the floor, looking directly at Mathieu. He was a burly kid, more muscle than brains, with bright orange hair and hands that were far too big for his body. “That’s where you belong, freak. I bet you’re one of those ‘oddity’ things.”
“Excuse me?” Mathieu’s eyes glinted dangerously, his weigh shifting onto the balls of his feet.
“Well, for one thing, no one can tell if you’re a girl or a boy.”
Mathieu looked down at himself, bottom lip popped out in a slight pout. His hair was just past the bottom his shoulder blades and feathered bangs, a pure white color, his chest flat and his frame thin, feminine. It was true, what Darrel had said. He was androgynous.
Very well, Darrel. He cocked his head to the side and placed a hand on his hip, batting his lashes in the girliest way he could manage. “Oh? Well, I can be anything you want me to be, baby.” His lips danced with a smirk and his hand brushed his bangs back.
“You’re a sick freak.” Darrel took two lumbering strides across the room and picked Mathieu up by the front of his shirt, snarling. As if Mathieu was nothing more than a rag doll, Darrel threw him into the nearest wall with all the ferocity of a cannon.
Mathieu sucked in a harsh breath as he flew through the air, his hair twisting around himself as he spun to get his feet between him and the wall. He wasn’t quite fast enough, cracking his knee and shin on the hard wood that paneled the room. Seconds later, he dropped like a stone to the floor, managing to land on his feet, and took a stumbling step forward. In a moment Darrel was on top of him, knocking him sideways to a firm kick to his ribs.
Wincing, Mathieu scrambled to his feet and took a real fighting stance, feet planted shoulder width apart. His injured knee was stinging something fierce and his ribs ached from the last hit, but that didn’t deter him. Breathing wasn’t pleasant, but nothing was broken.
Darrel fought much like a bear: close in with wild swipes and pray one connected. But Mathieu was smarter than that, watching for the gaping openings that Darrel left in his defense. With precision, he dodged the first swing and managed to get under Darrel’s guard. The world seemed to pause as Mathieu’s fingertips struck forward, hitting the bundle of nerves in the center of Darrel’s chest.
The bigger boy stumbled back, clutching his chest. “You…faggot!”
It was a strange feeling that came next. Mathieu heard something like a snap and his ears started to ring. His restraint was gone, arms blurring and fingertips slamming into the pressure points along Darrel’s chest. Mathieu was small, but he’d spent enough of his life reading to know how to take down someone bigger than himself.
It wasn’t until Rebekah burst into the room and tackled him to the ground that he relented. He was winded and slightly sweaty, caught in a headlock. Mathieu squirmed for a few moments before lying still. It was useless to fight when someone had him in a headlock and pinned to the floor. Darrel lay a few feet away, curled up in a ball and coughing blood up into his gargantuan hands.
Mathieu averted his eyes, coughing slightly. “W-whoops.”
Rebekah let him up, pointing to the door. Mathieu bit back an annoyed growl, but he slunk out of the room anyway. Darrel had started the fight and he’d gotten what he’d deserved.
Sighing, he ran his hand along the knotted oak paneling of the walls. The orphanage was an old-fashioned house, nothing like the new ones of the capital, each looking exactly like the next. The entire house was carved out of wood: the polished floors, the paneled walls, the beamed ceilings. It had ornate designs engraved into the baseboards that wound along the bottom of each room and along the banisters that flanked the staircases. The dark wood always seemed warm to the touch, filling every space with a soft fragrance unique to old wood, and it made the place feel like a home. It had a huge library, eight bedrooms with equal number baths, two kitchens, multiple sitting rooms like the one he’d just inhabited--filled with overstuffed chairs and loveseats--a music room, his favorite place to be, and a terrace looking onto the sweeping back lawn. It was a little piece of paradise. There was even a river not far from the orphanage.
But for Mathieu, the fifteen years he’d spent there had been a tedious hell. He couldn’t help that he was androgynous, had been abandoned on the side of the road by his parents at two-years-old, and had a strange strength that didn’t fit his narrow frame. It wasn’t uncommon for him to accidently break things when his temper got out of control. He was a freak and it made him the outcast of the orphanage.
It shamed him, however, to think about what he’d done to Darrel just a few minutes ago. At seventeen, he didn’t have any more self control than he’d had at six. His feet followed a familiar path and stopped just outside the music room, looking at the portrait on the wall. It was of an older couple: a man with salt-and-pepper hair, a lined face, and a calm smile sitting in a wing-backed chair, arms around his elegant looking wife. She was rather striking with a cascade of blonde pin curls, and a loving smile on her face.
The portrait always struck Mathieu as odd. In an age where all memories were captured with hologram crystals, to see a genuine, oil portrait was a rare thing. It made him smile to see something so special tucked away in such an innocuous place.
He went into the music room to find it empty, as expected. It was long and wide with high ceilings, stands for instruments, and a full wall of windows that looked over the pond and wild flowers. He went to the bank of windows and looked out at the overcast sky, then the faint reflection of himself in the window. He knew he’d messed up this time, and it seemed that the world agreed with him. Mathieu frowned. It wouldn’t do him well to dwell on it now.
Biting his bottom lip, Mathieu looked around before sneaking to the hidden compartment in the wall, retrieving his cello. He sat in one of the chair littered around the room and set the cello in front of him, cradling it between his knees. Taking a deep breath, he slid the bow along the strings, his heart soaring as a note sang through the still air. Slowly, he began to play, the song he wove mirroring his shame and concern, filling the space with a sadness that couldn’t be put into words. His bow slowly coaxed a string of harmonious notes from his beloved cello, letting his feelings flow from himself and into every corner of the room. It saddened him that no one got to hear the sweet melodies his instrument could produce, but he was someone happy that no one got to see the vulnerable side of him that arose when he was playing.
He continued to quietly entice gentle songs from his cello until both of the suns fell below the horizon and the dual moons rose high in the air. The room was aglow with moonlight when he finally realized that he was hungry. Stowing his instrument in its case and hiding it away again, he snuck out of the music room and down the hallway. The small kitchen was closer to this end of the house, so he headed for it. The floor barely creaked as he ghosted his way down the stairs.
The moon light provided enough light that he was able to navigate to the fridge and pull out a container of leftovers. It was only rice and beef stir fry, but it was better than nothing. He ate it cold, the meat was a bit chewy, and washed the dish once he was done. Mathieu was somewhat ready for sleep; it’d been a long day.
Mathieu’s room was the most barren of all that were inhabited in the orphanage. The changes that he had made through the years were merely cosmetic. He’d changed the curtains from an ugly green to a deep red and the bedspread was now a lovely shade of purple as opposed to the drab brown it originally was. Other than that, the room was just a shell: bed, desk, bookshelf, closet, and end table.
Climbing into his bed and tucking himself under the puffy comforter, he closed his eyes. The world of dreams was just beyond his consciousness…but there was something else, too. Whenever he reached the cusp between the states of consciousness, another plane was always there, pulling and inviting him in, wrapping him in a warmth and care.
Often he was tempted to fall into it, but never before had he allowed himself to drop into the other realm. Tonight though, was different. He could feel it. The warmth was more like loving arms pulling him back to the bosom.
In all honesty, he craved the comfort that it was offering, but it seemed…dangerous. Forbidden.
What is it, though…?
Fighting the other plane’s call, he settled into the realm of unconsciousness, falling into the darkness of sleep.
~*~
The sunlight filtered in from the outside world through a somewhat dirty window, waking Mathieu with it. Groaning, he slowly got out of his warm, comfortable bed, his body protesting. He trudged to the tiny bathroom attached to his room and pulled his shirt off, the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen rippling under his skin. His pants came next and he looked at himself in the full length mirror, clad in just his dark blue boxers.
The skin of his knee and shin was bruised to a faint purplish color from making contact with the wall the night before, however it was mostly hidden by his tattoo. The ink had originally been just a fanciful idea to set him apart from the rest of the kids in the orphanage, but after winning a bet with the local artist in the next town over, he had gotten it done for free. He didn’t regret it. The tattoo was a blood red tribal that started on his lower back and wrapped around his right hip and down his entire leg.
Smiling at his reflection, he yawned and moved to the sink, turning on the water. It flowed coolly over his hand, making his fingers tingle slightly. Mathieu leaned over the basin and splashed water onto his face. It woke him with a pleasant jolt, causing him to blink rapidly a few times.
Today was going to be a battle with the others; he was going to pay for attacking Darrel. The orphanage dealt with its own through a rigorous internal justice system that kept the peace. It was never anything obvious like an old fashion beat-down, but it was normally a punishment in stages, starting with being alienated from the rest of the group, being checked into the wall in the halls, just little things like that. Then it would be sabotaged duties, messes left to be cleaned, innocuous possessions broken. How difficult things got depended on how severe the crime was. Mathieu could expect no less than accepting Darrel’s duties, being the errand boy, his few pictures smashed, more bruises to come and isolation. None of it was personal, however. The hand of justice in the orphanage was fair and swift. It wasn’t going to be an easy time.
He looked at himself in the mirror again, pulling his hair over his shoulder and braiding it loosely. The braid hung to just past his collarbone, long and pure white. It contrasted with his lightly tanned skin and purple eyes. He knew how he looked and he was okay with it. Never once did he wish he looked like anything other than himself.
Wrinkling his nose, he turned away from his image, going back into the bedroom and opening the dresser. Mathieu pulled out a white tee-shirt and a pair of tight jeans, pulling them on quickly. He needed to get his day started as soon as possible. Taking a deep breath, he went to the door and pulled it open, only moderately ready to face everyone else.
Looking left and right before ducking into the hall, Mathieu strode towards the kitchen.
The portraits seemed to be following him with their eyes, accusing. It wasn’t his fault that he’d had to hurt Darrel. He’d been asking for it. There was no way that he was going to let this get to him. Not now.
Rebekah was in the kitchen when he entered, working at making breakfast for the five other kids that currently lived at the orphanage. “Oh good, you’re up. Come help, won’t you?”
Rolling his eyes, he went to the refrigerator and got out the small plate of eggs, carrying them to the stove. He set them on the counter and got out the skillet, setting it on the burner and lighting a fire under it. Carefully, he cracked the eggs into the skillet, tossing the shells as they were emptied. They started to cook almost immediately.
“Don’t make a mess.”
“Beks, I’ve never made a mess.” She sent him a exasperated look. “Okay, I never make a big mess.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She whisked the homemade batter for biscuits silently for a few moments. “Darrel’s fine, by the way. Just a bit embarrassed.”
He watched as the eggs cooked away, “Well, that’s good to hear…” Guilt clawed at his throat but he swallowed it down harshly. He’d only protected himself. Nothing more.
“…Yeah. The others aren’t exactly happy he called you a…well…it doesn’t matter.”
Wrinkling his nose, Mathieu flipped the eggs silently, cooking the underside. Under everything, he was seething at being called a faggot. It was a crude term from Ateri, a word that everyone had always been told not to call others. Slang for being gay.
He knew what it meant perfectly well, and he knew that it was probably the worst thing that Darrel could think of to call him. That was why he’d snapped. He didn’t care that someone had called him on being into guys. No, that was okay; he just didn’t like that it’d been an insult.
For the past four or five years, Mathieu and Darrel had been in a competition of sorts. Neither of them was prone to listening to others, to taking orders. Sure, they had fought here and there, but it hadn’t ever crossed his mind to try to inflict serious damage. To him, it had always been like siblings struggling for dominance, not like real enemies. It hurt that something had changed. He’d never had a family and the few people that he counted himself close to were limited to Rebekah and Darrel. But now he wasn’t even sure about that.
In all honesty, Mathieu knew he was different. Always had been, always would be. He was stronger than he should be, had a horrible temper, and was awkward with others. Still, never before had he felt so…unwanted. What if Darrel had meant what he’d said about him belonging in Korinth…?
Shaking his head, he pulled the eggs off the heat and sets them aside. Rebekah was putting the biscuits in the oven and breakfast was nearly completed. The others would be down soon. It was time for him to go.
“Listen, I’m gonna go organize the library or something. Save me some.” With that, he hurried out of the kitchen and up the back stairs, bypassing the others that he could hear now filing into the kitchen.
The back stairs led all the way up to the attic if one chose to follow them. He took the hall that bisected the staircase, however, and followed it to the end. He came to a pair of thick double doors with old-fashioned silver handles that were cold to the touch. Turning the handles slowly, Mathieu pushed them open to reveal the two story library, complete with a catwalk. The room smelled like cigar smoke, exotic perfumes, and something definitely woodsy. Every book was older than anyone in the house, thick and bound in various textiles. The shelving was made of stone and set into the circular walls, and the desk was mahogany. Mathieu let his eyes travel the room, smiling slightly at the ladder that slid around room, which was made of a creaky wood, but it had stood the test of time. A huge chandelier was the only source of light in the room.
Closing the door behind him, Mathieu looked up at the ceiling mural. It was a detailed map of Unith, showing all of the rivers and valleys. Except for where Korinth should be. The area it covered was completely blank, as if it didn’t exist. That wasn’t uncommon. Many people in Unith didn’t truly acknowledge the existence of Korinth. Sighing at the stupidity of the painter, he approached a pile of books sitting on the floor. He picked up a few of them and looked at the titles, deciding where to shelf them. The books mostly belonged on the second floor. Typical.
“Why do they take them down and then not put them back up…?” Mathieu mumbled to himself as he dragged the ladder around the room to near the door. Taking the books under his arm, he climbed up to the catwalk with careful feet. He followed the narrow walkway around the room, shelving books as he went.
He stopped at the end where a standalone locked wooden cabinet housed the leather-bound books. It came up to maybe his waist. No one knew what was inside of them, but they were supposedly very powerful. The owner of the orphanage, some old woman, was a descendant of a witch from a distant land. The kids guessed that the books were spell books.
Tilting his head, Mathieu wondered if he could pick the lock. He just wanted to touch them and smell them. The smell of books was his favorite. Wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, he knelt down and took the lock in his hand, he looked at it closely. Something told him that more than just a key was required to open it. He ran his tongue over his top lip, considering. It wasn’t something that he did often, but he could sometimes force things to do what he wanted them to do. He wasn’t able to explain how, but sometimes…
He stared at the thick silver lock, trying to envision its inner mechanics. They would be like tumblers, he imagined, old and hard to shift. Once he had a clear picture in his head, he imagined trying to force the tumblers up with his mind. How it happened, he wasn’t sure. One moment the lock had been securely closed, attached to the cabinet; now it lay in his hand, open.
The door slowly swung outward, no longer restrained by the silver lock. Delicately, he hung the lock on the railing before looking back down at the ground floor. When he was sure no one had entered while he’d been distracted, he turned to the slightly ajar door of the small cabinet. His heart started to pound in his ears as his fingers touched the smooth wood.
If the rest of the wood in the house had a warm feel to it, this did not. It was cold and hard, unyielding. Touching it made his fingertips tingle, much like the cold water earlier had. The pounding in his ears got louder as he pulled the door open.
Mathieu hesitated, eyes roving over the thick volumes. One in particular, however, caught his eye. The others were weathered, brown leather books.
This one was different.
Its cover wasn’t leather; instead, it was some sort of deep red fabric. The writing on it was perfect cursive done in thick purple stitching. It also was significantly thinner than the others. While the rest looked like they could be used as weapons, this one was much more dainty and elegant. His hand shook slightly as he reached out for it. His instincts were screaming at him to stop, to not touch it. But he had to know.
The fabric of the cover was the softest material he’d ever felt. Mathieu’s fingers plucked it off the shelf and out of the confines of the cabinet. Looking at the cover, he realized that the words had disappeared as soon as his hand had touched it. The book wasn’t overly heavy, and it made him feel focused, in control. He couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face or the way his fingers gently caressed the cover of the book. Peeking into it, he flipped through the empty pages. It struck him as odd that the pages would be blank, but he didn’t question it. He just knelt there, mesmerized.
Finally, he partially listened to his instincts, closing the cabinet and securing the lock back onto it. Quickly, he followed the catwalk back to the ladder and climbed down. Tucking the book into the corner of a shelf, he finished putting away the rest of the books.
He bit his lip. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was going to keep the book, but the question was where to put it to keep it safe. Stealing wasn’t something he wanted to be known for. Retrieving it from the corner, he tucked it under his shirt and ducked out of the library, pulling the door tightly closed behind him. He looked left and right before all but running down the hall to the main stairs and up them. His room was just down the hall when he heard noises that seemed out of place. People were in his room.
Mathieu swore under his breath. In the excitement of finding his new treasure, he had forgotten all about his punishment from the others. Panic started to slide up his spine. A book was something innocuous to get destroyed. Looking around, he realized where the safest place for the book was. Without hesitation, he turned and ran towards the music room. The hidden panel in his favorite room would be the best hiding place for it, and once he knew his book was safe, he could deal with the others.
Skidding into the room, he immediately backtracked into the hall. He wasn’t sure whether to cry or start screaming. Darrel had been in the music room, the wall panel open and his most prized possession had lain in pieces on the floor. Anger flowed through him, his eyes clouding over, lighting to a mauve color. His control was slipping again, that much he could feel. He strode back into the music room, the book still in his hand.
Darrel looked up at him, eyes cold. Behind the coldness though, there was regret swirling deep within the boy. “I’m sorry. We all knew it was here and you knew this was coming.”
“Then you’ll understand why I can’t let you get away with this, Darrel.” Something feral was rising in his throat. He approached the boy and growled.
Darrel never even saw it coming.
Mathieu slammed the book into Darrel’s stomach, causing him to double over. With a swift uppercut, Darrel fell to the floor, unconscious. Mathieu leaned down and picked up a piece of his once beautiful cello. It was part of the artfully carved body, a piece shaped like a tiger lily. Taking a deep breath, he opened the book and laid it within the depths of it, closing the pages around it protectively.
Before anyone could show up to see what he had done, Mathieu turned and left the room, winding through the orphanage to the back staircase, going all the way up. Without preamble, he shoved the door open to the attic and went in. Going to the only trunk in the dusty attic, he opened it and dragged out his shoulder bag. Tucked within it was a few hundred Khrons, a map of Unith, a fake ID and a change of clothing.
He placed the book into the bag, nestling it between his clothes to keep it safe. He was getting out of this place. For fifteen years, he had been suffering at the hands of the others for being different. Now, they had destroyed the only thing he’d ever formed a real attachment to in his life: his cello. Anything else he could have handled. But not this.
Slamming the trunk closed, he left the attic and headed back down the stairs. There was nothing left for him here. The only place he stopped was in his room to pull on some shoes before leaving it and returning to his voyage down the stairs. He wasn’t going to regret this decision. It had been coming for a long time. The front door was only a few feet away and he hadn’t run into anyone. That was fine. He hadn’t wanted to see the others before he left anyways.
His hand was on the door handle when he paused. Going into the sitting room, Mathieu went to the desk and pulled open the top drawer. He plunged his hand in, felt around, and pulled out a wad of Khrons. Shoving them into his bag, he returned to the front door and threw it open.
“Good bye.” He didn’t even bother to close the door behind him as he took off from the porch at a run.
~*~
Mathieu knew that no one would come looking for him. They didn’t care. But that was what being an orphan got you, a lack of someone giving a care if you disappeared and nowhere to really call home.
Sitting down in frustration, Mathieu huffed and folded his legs under himself. It was a long way from the orphanage to the capital, nearly a thousand miles. It would have been a full day journey by carriage at least, if he didn’t stop to rest. Unfortunately, the orphanage didn’t have a carriage, and that meant that he had to travel on foot. He thought his legs were going to fall off.
Ateri. That was where he’d decided he’d head. It was the only place that was big enough that he could disappear and no one would ever find him; not that anyone was looking. Maybe that was all he’d ever wanted, though. To have the ability to disappear and not stand out for his white hair or his purple eyes, to become just a part of the crowd; he didn’t want to be a freak anymore.
“Ahh! This was a stupid idea!” He thudded back in the grass, looking up at the sky. The grass felt nice and cool under him and his hands twisted a few blades. The tree above him shaded his eyes from the glaring double suns and allowed him to see up to the clouds, which he wateched slid across the sky for a time before he stretched and finally rolled back to his feet. Mathieu was not one to be an idle body. Being out in the open, walking along the road on his own made him feel very alive, very free, even if the choice that had gotten him here was very stupid. And he could admit when he’d made a stupid decision, like storming out of the only place that legally had to take him in because he was having a bad day. Oh, and stealing from a witch descendant. Apparently that was pretty frowned upon, too. But today was a first. He was dependant only on himself and here there were no judgments, just him and the trees.
The weather was perfect, not too hot yet, as it would undoubtedly become. A stream was running to his right and up ahead, he could see a town. He dug around in his bag and retrieved his map, unfolding it with careful motions. The thing was old and liable to rip. The town ahead was very small and labeled “Tuckern”. Mathieu had been there before with Rebekah once. At least he thought he had. If he remembered the place correctly, it was a nothing town with a few businesses and picturesque little houses. Not a place he wanted to spend much time.
He smiled to himself, somewhat proud that he had made it all the way to another town on his own. It wasn’t long until he was upon said town. He made to enter, but he found that he couldn’t; something was bothering him. For so long, he’d been the outcast, the one who was teased. But no more. He was going to find the strength within himself to not cower before others anymore because he was different. That wasn’t to say he wanted to make a spectacle of himself and stand out, but there was no way he was going to be pushed around.
Mathieu swallowed the lump in his throat and straightened up. With his head held high, he walked into the town as a confident man, not a cowardly child. The few people that were out on the street nodded at him. Some stared at first, but not in the sense of disgust. It was curiosity. He strutted past them all and entered a diner.
The inside was shiny and clean, the new smell of fresh paint still permeating the place. It was done in a tasteful cherry red and had accents of white here and there. The floor was a collection of shiny tiles. He took a seat at the glass counter, rimmed in chrome, and put his bag on the tall stool next to him. Tucking his ankles one behind the other, he hooked his foot around the leg of the stool.
“Just a moment,” called a deep voice from the back.
“Mhm.” Mathieu hummed to himself, looking at the pictures on the wall. There was a father and a son in the pictures doing various activities: fishing, playing in snow, napping.
It was cute, but made his chest ache. It wasn’t a secret to himself that he’d wished he’d had a father in his life to do things with. But he couldn’t win them all.
A slender blond man came out from the back, smiling. “Good morning. Well, actually I guess it’s the afternoon.”
Chuckling, Mathieu leaned on the counter, balancing his chin on his hands. The guy wasn’t overly tall and he only had to look up slightly. “It’s all relative to if you have plans.”
“True. As long as it isn’t closing time, it’s a mote point. So, what can I get you?” The blond’s name tag identified him as a Geoff.
“Hm…” Mathieu considered the menu under the glass countertop, tapping his fingers against arm. “Something fruity. And maybe sweet…”
“If I may be so bold, the waffles are pretty good. They come with sugar and fruit on top.” Geoff pointed to the ‘Breakfast’ portion of the menu. “It is all relative, after all.”
A smile lit up both of their faces. “That sounds pretty perfect.” Mathieu’s stomach rumbled and he wrinkled his nose in embarrassment.
Waving off the awkwardness, the man behind the counter pulled out a note pad. “So, one waffle it is…what is your favorite fruit?”
“Peaches.”
“Okay.” The blond smiled broadly before disappearing back into the backroom, the double doors swinging behind him.
Mathieu spun on the stool and looked at the rest of the pictures. They interested him, captured memories that someone like him would never have. He sighed as he slid off the stool to examine the ones on the wall, eyes perceiving without judging. Some of them had a woman in them. She was very pretty with blue eyes and a heart shaped face; the blond resembled her a lot. There was a newspaper article on the wall:
Local Hotel Fire
The landmark hotel of Tuckern, Windside Inn, caught fire late in the night one night ago. It is believed the case of the blaze was electrical, but this is unconfirmed. Fifteen guests were checked into the hotel, three with small children. One family staying for the night, the Carsons’, were rushed out of the burning building without their daughter, Frieda. Local diner owner, Regina Mason, who happened to be on her way home from work that night, saw the fire and the screaming mother. Ignoring the warnings of others, the woman heroically entered the burning building to save the child that was not her own. She saved the child, however had received severe damage to her lungs. Regina passed away early in the morning. The funeral service will be held at 3 p.m. on Thursday.
“That’s my ma.” Geoff was standing beside him, arms crossed. “I was six.” His tone was sad, if not a little cold.
Mathieu jumped, startled. His mind had been very into reading the article, trying to imagine someone he would run into a burning building to save. No one came to mind. “Oi! Don’t do that to me.” He turned away from the article, looking at the blond. “Do you remember much of her?”
“My ma? Not really. I just remember she always smelled like roses. It was nice. This was her diner.” He said. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”
He took a deep breath. Confidence. Riiight. “No. I’m from…” he hesitated. What would people think if he said he was from an orphanage? “Ateri. I was out here visiting family.” Mathieu lied smoothly. “Hotter than hell out here, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t get a bit warm out here, especially at the height of the day. So Ateri, huh. That’s a fair distance.” Geoff leaned against the wall, looking at Mathieu with the same blue eyes his mother had. “How does your family feel about you being so far away?”
He returned to the counter and sat on his stool, Geoff trailing behind him. “My family isn’t that fond of the idea, if I’m honest.” He continued to lie. He felt a bit bad about it, but he needed to work out his story out before he met other people. “But I’m an adult, so it’s my choice to live in the city.” Mathieu looked closer at the other male. Geoff was a lot younger than he’d originally thought, closer to his own age. The boy had very straight teeth.
“Kid,” a deep voice called from the depths of the diner, “foods up.”
“Yeah, Dad.” The blond called back. “Jeez, always something, I swear.” He gave Mathieu a joking smile before getting up and going to get the waffle. “Here ya go. Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” Mathieu politely laid the napkin across his lap, taking up the fork and digging in. The waffle was fluffy and rich, something Rebekah never managed to accomplish when making them, as well as smeared with butter. The peaches covering the top were clearly fresh, probably from just that morning. They tasted as though they had been marinated in sugar or some other sweet substance. As soon as he swallowed the first bite, he was shoving more into his mouth, not able to get enough of the taste. He wished he’d ordered another. Far too soon, it was all gone and he sighed in regret.
“That was delicious,” He said to Geoff, who was wiping down the counter, “But, I’d better get going.” He dropped a few Khrons onto the counter and stood, scooping up his bag. “Thanks a lot. Take care.”
The blond waved him off good-naturedly with a broad smile.
Mathieu was already out of the town and down the road when he realized something. Despite how short his interaction with Geoff had been, he had been mostly relaxed. It was nice to be himself, to not be afraid of what someone else thought. Yawning, he stepped off the road so a carriage could go by.
As he continued walking, he found the road oddly empty. A stray carriage here or there was nothing worth nothing. For such a thriving country, the area outside of the capital was pretty empty and boring. It made Mathieu itch; he wanted energy to surround him, to distract him from the tedium. A rabbit crossing his way was the most interesting thing to happen all morning.
After a few more hours, the suns were at their peak. They beat down, making Mathieu break out in a sweat across his lower back and shoulders. Sighing, he pulled out his map again and wrinkled his nose in distaste. He was still at least another hour’s walk to the next town and he was beginning to regret not stopping in Steeta a while back.
“This sucks!” Mathieu announced to no one in particular.
Out of nowhere, a strange, creeping feeling slide up his spine. He felt…he felt like he’d been here before. But he knew for a fact that he’d never come this close to the capital in his life. He’d always lived at the orphanage. Well, he supposed at one time he had lived with his parents, but he hadn’t known where that had been. Besides, he would have been too young to remember that.
The feeling was starting to intensify, making his skin crawl and forcing bile to creep up his throat. Something horrible had happened here, the horrors lingering in the air. Mathieu vaguely wondered to himself how this area wasn’t quarantined as he leaned against a nearby tree, trying to keep his stomach under control. Phantom screams echoed in his head, a woman’s voice. It made his stomach twist painfully, his guilt telling him he needed to save the woman being tortured. He collapsed to his knees, curling down on himself; then, he clutched his stomach, face pressed into the cold grass. Mathieu barely had time to lift his head up enough to avoid vomiting on himself.
After a few more minutes of the invisible screams fading in and out and emptying of his stomach’s contents twice more, he pulled himself together enough to get to his feet. His hands shook slightly, but he took steadying breaths to get his body under control. The voice in his head was screaming at him to get going, to leave this place behind. So he did, taking off running until he could no longer look over his shoulder and see the tainted area.
~*~
The next town, quite luckily, had a bus depot that would take him into the city. Apparently, this town had become quite the haven for people who worked in the city, but didn’t want to live there; he had no clue why. Mathieu paid the small fee of twenty Khrons and was rewarded with a bus ticket labeled “From Thorn - To Ateri” in thick, blocky black print.
Sitting on a worn wooden bench, waiting for the bus, he watched as people went by his seat. It was relatively quiet in the town and everyone walked with determined strides, the same serious look on their faces, clearly having somewhere to go. It made him feel like he was being lazy, not walking along with the same determined look on his face. He looked down at his ticket and ran his fingers across it. Anticipation was building in his gut; his little escape plan was quickly becoming a reality. Things had sounded good in his head, go to Ateri and start a new life, but how exactly he was supposed to do that, he wasn’t sure. No matter. He thought as the bus pulled up. In just a short while, he’d be in the capital and he could figure it out from there.
The bus was pretty packed, but he managed to find an empty seat. He slide into it and smiled politely at the girl beside him. She was young, but still older than him.
“Hello.” Her voice was soft and she smiled shyly at him.
Her shy nature made him grin. “Hi. How are you?”
Reddish hair hid her eyes as she tilted her head forward. “Oh, I’m good.”
She was a little thing, only taking up half of the seat and practically no space on the bus. Her hair was cut into a short bob that emphasized her jaw.
“Do you live around here?” He turned to look at her, focusing his attention completely on her as he set his bag on the floor between his feet. Mathieu had never ridden on public transportation and didn’t know the social protocol for socializing, but what he did know was that talking to as many people as possible would help him put together a better a cover story for once he was in Ateri.
She turned red. “Oh, uh, yes. I live just outside of the town before this. You know, Steeta. I work in Ateri, though. Do you live around here?”
Considering, he decided to stick with his previously constructed lie. “Oh, no. I live in the city. I was visiting family in the country.”
“I should have known.” She gave him an appraising look. “You don’t look like the people who live out here.” Her eyes caught the light for a moment before she looked away.
Insecurities suddenly spiked through him, but he pushed them down. “Oh?” Maybe she meant the fact that he was chatting her up like an idiot instead of sitting there quietly like everyone else on the bus.
“Well, I mean, uh, your hair and eyes and uh…yeah…” she tripped over her words lamely. He smiled at her reassuringly. He was going to have to get used to people commenting on his appearance. It would be okay; he would get over it. After all, he was very different looking.
The bus pulled away, and he looked past her out the window at the town. This was a much faster mode of transportation than walking, Mathieu decided. He was glad that he hadn’t tried to walk the whole way. Besides, he had a delightfully interesting girl to entertain him. Shifting in his seat, he slouched a bit until he was comfortable. Honestly, he had no idea how long the trip would take, but he was ready. At least, he thought he was. “I’m Mathieu, by the way.”
“Oh! I’m Vienna.” She blushed. “I seem to have forgotten my manners. So…Mathieu…That’s pretty.”
It was his turn to flush. “Thanks. So…what kind of work do you do?” More intelligence gathering, he told himself. These things would be important to know. Or at least he thought they might be.
“Well, I work in a government building. I do clerical work, filing papers and the like. Loads of fun…” Her voice trailed in an uninterested way, looking at the other occupants of the bus. She sighed softly.
Mathieu chuckled and she smiled companionably at him. He found himself wanting to make her smile; sometimes he was just like that. Something told him that this girl was very genuine and that made him happy. Her personality just showed him that some people were still nice at heart.
“Living in Ateri must be really nice. I could never afford it. Everything is so expensive. I’m surprised they don’t charge us to come into the city and work.” She laughed, looking out the window as they crossed a bridge. Mathieu was pretty sure she was joking, but she sounded rather serious. “This area is so nice. Funny how we can have a thriving metropolis disaster and not that far away is this slice of heaven.”
Something in her words had troubled him. Ateri was expensive. He should have known. His couple handfuls of Khrons wouldn’t take him far once he got there. That meant that he was going to have to find work quickly. And try to find somewhere that would take pity on him until he did. The shining beacon of their country should be visitor friendly, but this woman was making him think otherwise.
“If you live in Ateri, you must work for the royal family. No one else can afford to live there, right?” Vienna said off-handedly, peaking at him out of the corner of her eye. It looked like she was sizing him up.
Mathieu made a humming noise that could be taken either way, tilting his head back against the seat.
“Have you ever been to the Royal Gardens? I really want to go there…” It seemed to Mathieu that this girl was all over the map, but now her voice had a dreamy quality to it that he couldn’t fathom the cause of.
“Why?” He questioned, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand her desire to see some garden. Maybe they grew rare vegetables there.
She gave him a disbelieving look. “How could I not? Ever since I was a little kid, my mom talked about how beautiful and grand the gardens were and how you could only get in by invitation. It’s my life’s ambition…to do something so noteworthy that I get invited.” Vienna gave a longing sigh, her eyes far away.
The gardens…huh… Vienna seemed nice enough, but not cutthroat enough to really get noticed. At least, that was his opinion. In his experience, bullies tended to get noticed a lot more than the nice kids.
“Oh, when you get back and get settled in, you should look me up. We could have lunch together! Er, I mean…only if you want to, of course…” She bit her bottom lip in an embarrassed way, tilting her head.
Mathieu considered for a moment before he nodded. It might help to have an ally already in the city. “That’d be really cool.” The more they talked, and the closer they got to Ateri, the more he started to panic about starting over there. “So, my…brother was thinking about moving to the capital, and he asked me to think of some advice for him, ya know, to make it easier when he first gets there. Only thing is, I’m not very good at giving advice. What would you tell him?” His voice was unsure, but he tried to lie as convincingly as possible.
“Hm…” Her face became thoughtful and she tapped her nails against her leg, “I’d tell him that he needs to be tough, to not let people take advantage of him. The street urchins can be rather abrasive if you’ve never dealt with them before. Oh, and to avoid the Seventh District, because it’s kind of rough there. I don’t know, just stuff like that.”
He nodded, making mental notes for himself. “Thanks.”
Nodding, she rested her head against the window, closing her eyes.
Okay, got to be tough. This was going to be harder than he thought. He was beginning to realize that this was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. But, that thought kind of thrilled him. For once, he was doing something for him. Not because he had to or was intimidated into it; no, just because he wanted to. And that was why he was sure he could make it through this.
The bus winded down the country road, the trees and rolling hills giving way to flatter land. As they got closer to the capital, the land became more colonized land, housing complexes cropping up here and there. They were apartment style buildings, but their poor construction made them less than desirable. Mathieu supposed that was a downside of urban areas. The nicer the inner city became, the worse the surrounding areas started to seem. Compared to large, airy houses that Mathieu could see not far off, the apartments seemed cramped and almost unsanitary. He really hoped he wouldn’t need to live in an apartment.
Over the loud speaker, the driver announced that the next stop was central Ateri, District One. His heart started to pound again, nerves getting the better of him, causing his leg to bounce up and down quickly.
“Excited to be going home?” Vienna was looking at him, not seeming to find his behavior weird.
“Oh, of course I am. I’ve been away for a while. Coming back will be like starting a new life…”