Aye, I am a Fairy (The Fairies Saga Book 2) Page 16

  He grabbed the black felt-tipped marker and made two more X’s on the edge of his patch. He had to put them somewhere; he had already read the note to the other James referring to them. Well, they were still on the map, but now they were a whole inch and a half away from where they should be. And since he was the caretaker of the original document, Melbourne would never know the difference.

  A couple of clicks and a double fistful of numbers pushed, and the doctored scan was on its way to James Melbourne’s smartphone.

  JB grinned, proud of his initiative. When he finally got in touch with Eight, he would send him the right information. That was if the dolt could ever figure out how to open an attached document on his phone.

  JB reached into the supply cabinet and grabbed a fresh manila envelope. He wrote ‘Eel Pie Recipes by James Bradford’ across the face. Melbourne probably wouldn’t be back to retrieve these, and with his name on the envelope, no one else would bother them. Yup, James Melbourne was a genius, all right. He just didn’t know that he, JB, James Bradford, ‘the other James,’ was a bigger one—one big enough to use Melbourne and all his monies and title for his own needs. Baby sister Clotilde would be so proud of him.

  *15 The Letter

  August 6, 2013, Noon

  The same rude clerk from the day before was behind the front desk again today. There was something different about him, though. He looked the same—was wearing the same Ozzy Osborne tee-shirt, still hadn’t shaved, and his frayed elastic band still couldn’t contain his overabundant hair into a queue—but there was something else. That was it! He had lost his snide, ‘why don’t you go to hell’ attitude. The young man’s eyes were shifting, racing back and forth under his uni-brow. Something must be wrong. Yes, Clerk was definitely uncomfortable.

  “Good morning, sir; are you checking out now?” he asked in a very professional but stilted manner.

  James turned and looked behind him. Clerk had to be speaking to someone else. But there wasn’t anyone. Then he saw the reason for the change in character. No one was behind him, but there was someone else in the room. A portly gentleman in a dark blue pinstriped suit was sitting on the padded bench near the lamp table in the corner. The bespectacled man with a bad comb-over looked very out of place wearing a jacket and tie. It was another hot and muggy day, and tees and shorts or torn jeans seemed to be the summer uniform of this laid-back southern town. Mr. Pinstripe looked more like he belonged in an oversized leather chair at a board meeting than in a motel lobby.

  The stern-faced man had a magazine in his lap, but James saw the clipboard sitting on top of it, his pen ready in hand. The apparent inspector was looking down and just about to write something, when he caught James’s gaze. James put on a beatific smile and nodded once as if to say, ‘Good day to you,’ then turned his attention back to the once-snotty desk clerk.

  “No, I will not be checking out today. I’ll be here at least until tomorrow.” James put the hundred-dollar bill on the counter for the one night’s stay and waited for his change. He hadn’t noticed it the day before, but now saw the undersized refrigerator with a glass door—like the ones in the markets that held soda and beer for sale—at the end of the counter. There wasn’t any beer or soda in this one, though, but it did have small cartons of milks and juices. The display shelf next to it was loaded with mini boxes of cereals and cellophane-wrapped sweet rolls, muffins, and bagels. “How much for the milk, juice, and cereals?” he asked.

  “A buck each,” the clerk replied mindlessly, then winced as his eyes shifted to the man in the corner, hoping he hadn’t been heard.

  James smirked at him. He had picked up on the little deception, but didn’t make a remark. He’d rather have the clerk owe him one. He took his change and the receipt, turned to leave, then came back around and put both hands on the counter, leaning forward to make his point. “The sign says free continental breakfast, but it doesn’t say I have to eat it here in the lobby or lounge, or at any certain time. I think I’ll take my breakfast now. Hand me a couple of those milks, orange juices, yellow boxes of cereal, a couple of bagels, and are those cream cheese and jams in there? Yes, I’ll take those, too,” he said assertively.

  A great sense of satisfaction washed over James as he realized that he was being waited on by the man who had been so boorish the day before. His tone changed as he added coolly, “And will you put them in a bag for me?”

  The Ozzy devotee grabbed one of the empty bags next to the cereal and started filling James’s breakfast order. He brought it to the counter and set it down just a little too hard. James looked over to the man in the suit, and then back to the clerk who was now gulping hard in mortification at his own impetuousness. He choked back his anger at being manipulated by James. “Will there be anything else, sir,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Yes, please put in some of those paper napkins, bowls, plates, and plastic service-ware, too. That is, if it’s not too much trouble,” James whispered, grinning from ear to ear. Wasn’t this what they called instant karma?

  The clerk started to throw the utensils into the bag, then at the last moment, very precisely and with an exaggerated gentleness, placed them in the brown paper sack. “Anything else, sir?” he asked, dragging out the last word and giving James a scrunched up, full-face glare, eyebrows touching and chin pinched up to nearly meet his nose.

  “Yes,” replied James brightly, “have a nice day.” He picked up the bag with one hand and slapped the counter with the other, intentionally making a loud smack. The clerk and the examiner both jumped at the unexpected noise. “You have a nice day, too,” James said, as he nodded to the flustered man in the cheap suit. He pushed the glass door open with a stiff arm, exiting into the noonday sun, the blast of hot summer air setting the smile of satisfaction deep into his face.

  James whistled random notes as he tapped on the door for Leah to let him in. “What got into you?” she asked as she stuck her head out the opened door.

  “Oh, I was just out—how do you say?—scoring lunch. I think this will be easier on your stomach than the pizza and beer.” James’s attitude suddenly dropped as he remembered the message he had just received from England. “Full or empty?” he asked flatly.

  “Full or empty what?” Leah asked, wondering why his mood had once again changed so quickly and dramatically.

  “Stomach. Do you want shocking news on a full or an empty stomach? However, with the little history I have with you, I would suggest an empty stomach.” James set the bag on the table and started pulling out the fare.

  Leah didn’t answer with words, but instead grabbed a box of milk and tugged at the top, trying unsuccessfully to open the ‘easy open’ carton. She pulled and squished, and was getting ready to pull it apart with her teeth, when James said, “Here, let me.”

  He took a plastic knife, wedged it between the layers of compressed paper, and popped out the pour spout. He handed it to her, and then sat on the end of the bed, hands folded in his lap, jaws clenched, wondering how this was going to play out.

  “Thanks,” she took a long gulp, “I needed that.” She took another slug, and then set the carton down as if it was a stein of beer. She wiped her mouth with an exaggerated flourish and grinned. “Okay, so what’s the latest and greatest shocking news in our mystery series?” she asked brightly.

  He didn’t want to, but needed to, take care of this now. There was no reason to wait to share the information with her—it wouldn’t change or become less cryptic with time. He let out a deep sigh, placed his hands on his knees, stood up, and brought the desk chair over to sit at the table beside her. It would help if he could see her face when he showed it to her. He pulled the white envelope out and set it down with his doodles right side up. “What does this mean to you?” he asked.

  “Well, my name, that’s me.” She looked up and laughed at him. “Right, I always try to do the easy ones first. It makes people think I’m smarter than I am. Okay, the date is a week and a half from now. Double XX, that
could be extra, extra large size or a very dirty movie, I guess. Trocars and IV tubing are what are used for blood transfusions, and that’s a little map. What’s all this about?”

  “Well, that’s the mystery, isn’t it?” James asked with a wink and a double eyebrow pop a la Groucho Marx. “Seriously, though, I retrieved one of the messages on the smartphone. It ultimately led to information about an old map that was just sent to me in England.”

  Leah looked at him like, ‘Yeah? So what?’

  “Well, the map had a note on it which said that I was to meet him at the double X two weeks after my 28th birthday, which would make it this 17th August, and to make sure to have Leah send plenty of IV tubing and various sizes of trocars. Oh, and any other medical supplies as you deem appropriate for the conditions.”

  Leah grabbed her mouth and ran to the bathroom, barely managing to get the toilet seat up in time to vomit the milk she had just drunk.

  James unwrapped a glass tumbler, filled it with water, then grabbed a clean washcloth and wet it. “Here,” he said, as he handed it to her, “next time I won’t give you a choice.”

  Leah wiped her mouth. “I hope there isn’t a next time. I don’t know if my stomach can handle any more of this.” She paused for a moment, then looked at James with narrowed eyes. “And no, I am not pregnant.”

  “I didn’t say anything!” he said, although the thought had crossed his mind.

  “No way, Jose, absolutely no chance of it. I haven’t been exposed in ages!” Leah paused and added, “As if it was any business of yours,” then snorted, “Hmph!”

  James didn’t say anything, but went back to the table, sat down, and pulled his smartphone from his pocket. Leah stomped over to the bed, yanked open the Wal-Mart bag with more force than necessary, and pulled out the new toothbrush and travel-sized tube of toothpaste. She threw the plastic and cardboard wrappers at the garbage and missed. “Erggh!” she exclaimed, bent over and picked up her mess, and put it into the trash can. She went to the sink and scrubbed her teeth vigorously, rinsed and spat, then smacked the toothbrush way too hard on the edge the basin to knock off the excess water. She grabbed at the bag again and started flinging clothes out of it, searching for her hairbrush. She finally found it and began tearing at the packaging. “Erggh!” she screeched again as she fought the stiff plastic.

  James ignored her temper tantrum. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong—that she was just mad at herself. It wasn’t her fault that she had a weak stomach when it came to stress. It was obvious she was trying to be strong, but was frustrated at her body’s involuntary reactions. He’d let her calm down at her own rate while he checked to see if he’d received the scanned copy of the map and note.

  And there it was. He looked over the map as a whole, then zoomed in on different areas, looking for the XX zone.

  He gasped audibly and flushed scarlet as he realized that he’d seen this map before. It was the same map, the ‘historical document’ he had bought last year. With the help of Leah’s mother, the sweet little old lady, Dani Madigan, who was now the time traveling young mother of triplets, Evie—wound up ‘returning’ to that weird Master Simon fellow.

  He was deep in thought, trying to figure out how the map could have come back to him, when he felt the kiss on the back of his neck. Gulp.

  “I’m so sorry I flew off the handle. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just so mad that I threw up again. I know you weren’t insinuating that I was pregnant. Damn, that seems to be the only thing I can control—whether I get pregnant or not!”

  James was listening to her, but was also trying to isolate and hide away that blissful feeling of her lips on his neck. Half a blink later, at the words ‘I get pregnant,’ the sensation of her kiss returned in full. Two squared is four. Four squared is sixteen. Sixteen squared is, shoot; I’d better go slower. Three squared is nine. Ah, hell. You don’t have time for this. Just talk to her.

  He took a deep breath for composure. It had nothing to do with sharing this new, shocking information—it was a physical movement to stifle his effervescent feelings for her, but he didn’t want her to know that. “Here, this is a copy of the map that started it all,” he said before he lost focus. “I had just bought this map from a stranger outside the museum when I met your mother last year. You did know I met her at that same diner where we had pie, right?”

  Leah nodded her head sadly. He continued, “I knew even back then that I had something to do with this map and your mother—sort of a premonition, I suppose.”

  He felt a slight blush rise with his need to explain himself. He didn’t want her to think he was insinuating there was anything inappropriate going on between her mother and him, but Leah nodded—she understood—so he continued.

  “I remember telling her that Simon was not revealing everything. I felt that the map, somehow, was important to me. At the time, I was just looking to see if my great-uncle, Lord Julian Hart, fought as a British soldier or turned coat…er…rather, began fighting with the Continental Army. That’s how I attained the coin—the coin I showed you yesterday—it was tucked inside the map sheath. And now the map has returned to me, or at least a copy of it has. I…I…I think I’m supposed to go back.”

  *16 We Need a Plan

  “So what are we going to do?” she asked.

  “I would suggest that we make a plan. Would you see if there’s any stationery in the nightstand over there?” James took out his wallet, pulled out the little silver Greek coin, and examined it closely once again as she brought the paper and pen to the table.

  She grinned as she handed him the pen and announced, “Here, I always wanted a secretary.”

  He smiled back and took the cheap plastic ballpoint pen from her. Those fingers are so long, beautiful, graceful, and sensibly manicured. Concentrate, man! “Number one,” he said as he wrote the Roman numeral one in the upper left corner. “Take care of old business. That’s what you have to do. I put all my affairs in order before I left England. Well, almost. I think I’ll have to call my solicitor and review my will. I’m pretty sure I cut out Clotilde two months after… Oh, excuse me; I’m babbling. I’ll help you clean out your apartment if you’d like. I’m sure it’s going to be very emotional and…”

  “And dirty,” Leah interrupted. “Here, start another page. We need a shopping list. I could care less about cleaning up the place, but I do want to go through it and see if I have anything left. Write down latex—no, nitrile—disposable gloves and masks.”

  James looked at her sideways.

  “Not Halloween masks, you silly—dust masks. I don’t want to get black lung disease from digging through that crap, I mean, my belongings. And we might want some big trash bags and…”

  Leah dropped her head onto the tabletop in a controlled flop, pressing her forehead into the Formica. She rolled her head sideways, back and forth a couple of times, then said, “I don’t think there’s anything there that I care about except my photos. Believe it or not, I was paranoid and put all the old ones in a fireproof safe. All my recent ones are backed up online.”

  Leah was suddenly quiet. She wanted to be back with her mother, but hadn’t thought about much more than that. The how’s and why’s of getting there made no difference to her. If there was a way, she was going to do it. But now she wanted James to go, too. She popped up and looked at James with a frown of doubt on her face. “So, you’re pretty sure you know how to go back, and you’ll take me with you, right?”

  “Well, I’m not sure that you’re supposed to go back with me.” He saw the look of terror mixed with anger on her face. He fumbled for a quick response to the look. “The note said ‘I hope to meet you and I’ll meet you,’ but that could mean the plural you. It didn’t say that you weren’t supposed to come along with me, so I guess it would be okay. Why? Do you want to go back?”

  “Duh? Yeah! I thought that was what we were going to do. You and me, go back together to see my mother and your great uncle.”

  “We
ll, if I’m going back—which it looks like I am predestined to do—then yes, I would like to have you with me. And I certainly wouldn’t want you to try to go back by yourself. A single woman back then, traveling alone… No, it would not be a good idea.”

  Leah pursed her lips in thought, a sly smile creeping in to change her steely, determined expression. Now there was someone in her life who believed her story and who was willing to protect her in this crazy venture. No, she corrected herself, feeling her smile grow into a full-fledged grin—he wanted to protect her. “Hey, are we going to stay back?” she asked before thinking.

  “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. I am shell shocked. I know what I’m supposed to do—what I was asked to do—which is go back with those IV supplies, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to go back just to accomplish a deed and then return here, or to stay there. And if you’re coming with me, then... I don’t know. How do you feel?”

  James winced, groaned, shook his head, and said curtly, “Ugh, I mean that is such a female remark, ‘How do you feel,’ ‘Tell me your feelings’?” James saw the quizzical look on Leah’s face. “Oh, sorry, I meant no disrespect.”

  “None taken,” she said with just a hint of a giggle. He’s so cute when he acts straight. She realized that she’d just been asked a question. “Oh, how do I feel? Let’s see, hmm, I have a job. That could be a plus, but is actually a neutral. There’s the fact that my home just burned down, probably to the ground—that’s another neutral. At least there isn’t much to pack, or rather dispose of, which would actually make it a slight plus. I have a car, which I can sell it, so that’s another neutral. My family? All I have is my mother, and she’s back there, so that’s a big plus for going back and staying back. As far as friends go, I have lots of acquaintances and buddies, but the only one here—other than you, of course—is Billy. He’s gay, though, and it’s not as if I could settle down and start a family with him. So, since you’ll be with me if I go back, and the long-range future here with Billy is chummy and not romantic, I’d say staying here for friends is another neutral. Geez, I don’t have even one reason to stay here—or should I say, stay now? We didn’t even have to tally that one up. How about you? What do you have to come back to?”