Della leads me down the iron stairs, and I can’t help noticing how sharp the rods connected to the railings are. I have the urge to touch one of them but fear I might injure myself if I do, and I don’t think Della is in the mood to stitch me up again.
I’d already given her a hassle when we went to this Juniper person’s room. Della sifted through the closet, trying to find something that might fit me while telling me that Juniper and I are about the same size. She finally settled on a black and white two-piece tweed outfit with a white blouse to wear beneath.
The outfit, though a bit stretchy around the waist, is tight and ridiculously itchy and I told her that, to which she said it was either this outfit or a dress. We debated about the dress and two piece and, finally fed up, Della said, “Trust me, it’s this or he’ll have you walking around half naked until the clothes you have on right now are clean.” I finally decided to let it go, and she smiled triumphantly as she led me behind a steel room divider for privacy.
Afterward, she brought me a gray liquid in a vase and told me to drink it. “It will heal your leg,” she said, and sure enough it did. I no longer feel pain or limp when I walk. The scar is still there, raw beneath the bandage, but I feel almost back to normal. Almost because I still have no idea where the hell I am.
When Della rounds a corner and enters the kitchen, she stops at the middle of the wooden counter and plucks something out of a bowl. “Here. Eat this,” she commands lightly.
I take the charcoal gray object from her, frowning. It’s odd shaped, with deep grooves, like a dog toy. “What is this?”
“Fruit, dear,” she says. “You eat it.”
“Yes, I know you eat fruit, but what kind of fruit is this, exactly?”
“It’s a blackfruit. Fresh from the lake trees.”
“Blackfruit?” I blink twice at it before meeting her eyes and forcing a smile. “Thanks?” I raise it in the air. That’s the most she’ll get because I won’t be eating this random black fruit.
“Mr. Harlow is in his office.” Della points toward the foyer we came from when I first walked into the castle. “Go straight down and you’ll see it on the left. If you’ll excuse me, I must go to the village to pick up tonight’s dinner.”
Della pats my shoulder with a smile before walking out of the kitchen. She turns a corner and disappears, and I have a feeling I won’t be seeing Della again—well, I hope I don’t. Hopefully by the time she returns, I’ll be home again, in my bed.
Sighing, I clutch the mysterious blackfruit in hand and make my way through the foyer. As I do, I drop my gaze to my feet, at the pointed shoes with silver tips that remind me of the tip of a sword. The shoes are odd and a little too snug on my feet. There’s no way I’ll be able to walk in them for long. I’m better off going barefoot. “These are most certainly popular right now,” Della had said as she handed them to me. They most certainly shouldn’t be.
Papers rustle as I move closer to the office. As I step around the corner, I spot a bush of black and gasp. I leap backwards as the black bush wags and realize it’s that wolf again. It stands on all fours when I walk closer, eyes locked on me like I’m prey.
“He won’t bite unless I command him to,” a deep voice says. I shuffle to the right, and the man—this Harlow person—is sitting behind a desk, going through sheets of tan paper.
“He almost attacked me in the forest,” I counter.
“I intervened before he could.”
“Yeah, at the last second,” I mutter.
He drops the papers to snap his fingers. “Here. Now, Cerberus.” The wolf immediately walks around the desk, sitting on its hind legs beside his owner. He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Take a seat.” He gestures to the metal chairs on the opposite side of the desk. I swallow hard as I move forward carefully, pulling one of the chairs back and sitting.
“You should eat that,” he says. “Blackfruit is extremely rare and good for you.”
“I’ve never had one.”
He stares at me, carefully assessing me, then goes back to fingering through some of the papers.
“What do I call you?” I inquire.
His eyes flicker up to mine briefly before dropping again. “Caz.” He finally stops fiddling with the papers, giving me his full attention. “You said in the forest that you fell here.” His hands fold on top of the desk. “What did you mean by that exactly?”
“I mean that I literally fell into that forest. I don’t know where I am, or how I got there, but it’s not my fault I ended up there.”
“What is the last thing you remember before falling?”
“Um…well, I was smoking on my bed.”
“Smoking?”
“Yes, weed.” I eye him, and he appears confused. “It gets you high.”
“High? Like quish does?”
“Quish?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind. Continue with the last thing you remember.”
“I was on my bed, then I saw a purple light on my ceiling. I touched it, and it’s like I was brought closer to the light. I remember looking down at my bed, trying to get back to it, but then everything went black. The next thing I know, I’m on the ground, surrounded by trees, and my leg is bleeding.”
He doesn’t react. Just stares at me, and it makes me uncomfortable, so I sit up straighter in my chair. Cerberus growls, and a yelp forms in the heart of my throat.
“He doesn’t like sudden movements,” Caz informs me.
“Oh…um…my apologies, wolf.”
“Is there anything else you remember?”
“Uh…well, before I saw the light, I heard a voice.” My eyes lock on his as I debate whether I should tell him whose voice it was. I decide to bite the bullet. “I’m pretty sure it was yours.”
He’s quiet a moment, his gaze lowering. “I heard you in the forest when Cerberus was chasing you. Not your actual voice. The one in my head. I knew exactly where you were without any kind of lead.”
“How?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
Why didn’t you stop your damn wolf sooner then?
Caz tips his chin. “You should watch your thoughts. I can hear them.”
I frown. “Then stop listening.”
“Kind of hard to do when it seems I’m meant to hear them.”
I press my lips. “Why can’t I hear all of yours?”
“Because I’m not allowing you to.”
“What? How can you do that? Do you know about this—whatever this thing is we can do?”
“To me, it seems like a form of telepathy. I don’t know how it works, or why we share it, but I know someone who may have an idea. She should be on her way to me soon. She’ll be able to figure out where you came from and, hopefully, how to get you back.”
“Okay. Finally, some good news. In the meantime, what about a phone?”
He sighs, clearly exasperated. “I’m assuming a phone is a form of communication for you.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” I sit forward. “Do you have one?”
“We don’t have phones. We have transmitters. Unfortunately to have one, it must be assigned to you and if it isn’t, you must ask permission to use it, so I can’t let you use mine.”
“Not even if I ask for your permission?”
He picks up that same silver case from before, plucking out another black cigarette thing with a simple shake of his head.
“Wow. Okay, so how do I get in touch with someone? How can I get my own transmitter thing?”
“You really aren’t from around here.” He exhales, sitting back in his chair. “Transmitters in Blackwater are only given to those higher up in ranking and the people who work to have them. I have absolutely no clue who you are other than your name and I don’t know where you’re from, therefore it will be nearly impossible to provide you a transmitter.”
“That’s…really stupid. Where I come from, anyone can have a phone as long as they can pay their bill.”
“Their bill?” he frowns. “Does that involve trading goods and rubies?”
“No.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is incredibly frustrating. “Look, I seriously need to get back home. I appreciate you taking me in and helping me out, but the sooner I can get back, the better.”
Just as I air my statement, the front door bursts open and a man barges in, nearly out of breath. He’s tall, wearing a dark-gray tweed suit. A black cap similar to Caz’s is on his head, and the jacket of his suit is open, revealing a gun in a holster, but it’s no ordinary gun. The gun he has is black and massive—bigger than the one Caz had in the forest.
“Caz!” the man hollers, huffing as he enters the office. “We’re gonna need you at The Tavern! Yusef’s at it again, but this time he has the fucking Rippies with him! Killian is still there and he’s pissed ‘bout it. If you don’t get there soon, I have no doubt Killian’ll kill ‘em all.”
Um…what? The man talks so fast it’s hard to understand a word he’s said, and his accent doesn’t help me discern much of it, other than there’s trouble.
“How many Rippies other than Yousef?” Caz asks, much calmer than what seems ordinary for an outburst like this.
“Three, but they’re big bloody fuckers. Ugly sons-a-bitches too.” As if he’s just noticing me, the man steps deeper into the room and grins. “Ello, who’s this?”
Caz stands, walking around the desk. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“She coming with us?” the man asks.
“She damn sure isn’t staying in my house alone.” Caz stops at the door of the office to look at me. “Get up. Follow along.” His eyes then dart to Cerberus. “Cerberus, on guard.”
The wolf dashes past the random man and Caz, heading out through the crack of the front door.
“Where are we going?” I ask, following them out of the office.
I tail them out the front door and a car is parked up front—made of dark gray metal. There are no headlights. Instead, the lights are on the side of the car, the rims sleek, black. It’s so…futuristic—nothing like I’ve ever seen before. And when the other man opens the back door and gestures inside, I realize this Caz person must be more important than I thought.
“Don’t ask questions. Just ride,” Caz says in response to my question.
“Ride what, exactly?” the man asks behind the wheel, grinning, and I roll my eyes.
Caz gives him a glare. “Shut up and drive, Rowan.”
