Tel’ parma en’ olva

Tel’ parma en’ olva(Lauren Blake) “I’m looking for a book,” a girls voice states, shaking me out of the book I was reading.

“Almost everyone who comes here is,” I reply, equally vague, not looking up from my book. She was quiet for a minute before clearing her throat as a means of requesting my attention. I ignore it and continue, “Every once in a while someone comes in looking for a place to eat but we send them next door to the deli. They have a great roast beef sandwich if you actually are lost and looking for lunch. A few times people have come in asking where they could find size 9. Now I don’t know what they were referring to but I turned them away anyway.” I look at my watch, four o’clock, a little too late for the lunch crowd. I finally look up, though I haven’t read a single word since I started teasing her. I really shouldn’t patronize paying customers like this, Mr. Linden is sure to get a complaint one day. “What can I help you with?” I ask in my most professional clerk voice.

“I’m looking for a book,” she repeats.

“As I recall. Might that book have a title?” It seems like an obvious question to me but she appears confused.

“It might,” she replied, her voice slow. Almost like she was asking a question rather than halfway answering mine.

“Would you happen to know it?” I ask. Getting an answer was like pulling teeth with this girl.

“I thought I knew it…” She slowly answered, her brow furrowing in concentration.

“Do you know what it was about?” I ask, getting genuinely bothered by her unpreparedness. Does she know anything other than the simple fact that what she’s looking for is, in fact, a book?

“It was about…plants!” She excitedly exclaimed, joy lighting up her face.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” My feelings were reflecting hers; or maybe it was just joy that soon I could get back to my book. “What type of plants?” I inquire as I start to run through the titles of all the botany books we had in stock.

“Magic plants.” The titles stop in place.

“Magic plants?” I ask, incredulous. Is she talking about the children’s section? If not, does she think I’d sell any of those books or even let her see them? How did she even know that I had them hidden here, at Mr. Lindens?

“Yes, ones that heal things, ones that kill things, ones that hatch,” here she lowered her voice and nervously looked around before motioning me closer and whispering, “faeries!”

“Listen, kid,” She wasn’t really a kid but I couldn’t believe that she was for real. She probably means The Secret Garden or something. That had to be it. “The children’s section is over there,” I gesture vaguely towards the back corner of the store.

“Listen, kid,” she said, adopting my patronizing tone of voice and gesturing where I had, “I’m not looking for those books, I’m looking for the copy that I know you have of ‘Tel’ parma en’ olva’.” The Book Of Plants. The rarest of all the faerie manuscripts. A copy of which I have in the store at this moment. No one knows I have it, who could her source be? My face must have gone to the blank stare I adopt when trying to lie because she noticed instantly and triumph gleamed from her face and her voice rose exponentially. “Aha! My sources were correct about that, weren’t they?”

“Listen,” I said, trying to make my voice low and menacing. By the look on her face, I succeeded. Strange how she had gone from such an innocent little girl to a devil in such a short time. Looking around at the regulars in the bookstore, Bernie, the former librarian, and Sydney, the bookbinders widow, they had noticed the change in her too. Turning my attention back to the girl, I deliberately rub my right wrist and finish my sentence, “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.” Her face was sheer terror. And then suddenly, she caught on.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, back to being the girl I met when she first came into the store. Sydney and Bernie exchanged bemused looks before returning to their books. “You’re one of Them. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to do anything. However, the fact stands that until I have some proof that you’re actually one of Us, I’m not showing you any books. Actually, scratch that, I need quite a bit of proof before you see so much as a cover.”

“Um…” She looks around nervously, “I have significant proof, but… Do you have an office or something? It’s not exactly for the public to see.” Oh sure, now she’s conscious of how loud she was discussing some very secret information.

“Sure. Follow me.” I didn’t really want her to come into my office because that’s where the books were. Under lock and key, alarm system, and safe, but still. She follows me up the stairs to the door where I stop and turn abruptly. “Wait here for a second.” She nods and I unlock the door, look back at the store, check on Sydney and Bernie, and finally slide in quickly and shut the door behind me.

I take a deep breath and survey the room: books strewn everywhere, food lying around, and receipts covering the desk. The locked cupboard behind my desk, which was inexplicably unlocked. Unlocked. The one thing protecting the books was unlocked by someone other than me. I swore loudly.

I run over and look inside the safe but the books are still there, albeit on their sides. The thief must have been looking for something more valuable. Well they passed over the most important things in the room so the thief must not be one of Them. Looking around the office with a sharper eye I notice little things are missing and awry: a photo of me in front of the store is on its side, my lucky pen is missing, a couple books from a series I never liked have been thrown on the floor, a few other little things missing, none of it consequential to anything important. Bending over to start picking things up, I feel a breeze.
The window in my office doesn’t open; it's a floor to ceiling window. There’s a large, human sized hole in it. I look outside and see a girl with braided hair, so black it’s blue, running away, looking back with fear in her eyes that are clearly purple, even from this distance. Finally, I see the most important thing about this girl: everything that’s missing from my office is tucked under her arm or into her bag. She seems familiar. A triumphant smile shines on her face and she slows to a jog when she sees I’m not chasing her. I know that smile. From where though, that’s the question…

A quiet knock on the door reminds me of what’s happening. I quickly pack up everything I can and let her in. That’s when I remember where I know the smile from. It’s her. She had the same triumphant smile when I confirmed that I had the Book.

“You.” Disdain and confusion ooze from that one word. Her eyes stop roaming the room and come back to look at me with a quizzical expression.
“Me?” She’s confused? How is she confused? How is she here? She was outside and then she was here. How?

Silently cursing my stupidity, I change directions quickly, “I, uh, don’t even know your name. If I’m going to trust you with anything about the books, I’ll need to know a little about you, to, you know, judge whether you’re for real or if you just belong in a mental institution” I add a forced laugh at the end to soften the request. It works; her face goes from confused, to understanding, and then back to confused.

“My name? Madeline, Madeline Christine. I work at Elk Grove Mystics, down the street a couple of blocks. I’m the Assistant In-House Psychic.” She rolls her eyes and scoffs a little, “I’ve worked there for five months, and I’ve lived in Elk Grove for seventeen years, my entire life. Your turn.”

“My turn?” I was taken aback, “My name’s Finn, Finn Christian. I work, well, here, for Mr. Linden. I’ve worked here for three years, and I’ve lived in Elk Grove for nineteen years, my entire life.” I recalled her name and the information she gave me to make sure I still remembered it. Madeline Christine. Elk Grove Mystic. Seventeen years old. Got it.

“Well nice to meet you, Finn.” She said with a little smile.

“The pleasure’s mine,” I return the smile, “Now, you said you had some kind of proof that you’re who you say you are…”

“Oh! Of course. Do you have some water?” The request seemed odd but I turned to pour her a glass from the pitcher behind my desk. While I was pouring, a rustling of papers behind me caused me to stop pouring immediately and spin around. Water splashed out of the pitcher onto some papers on my desk.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to alarm you. Is this your girlfriend?” She asks, holding up a picture of me with Crystal.

I spin away from her quickly, tears forming on my eyes. “No, she doesn’t matter. Here’s your water.” I wipe away the tears, finish pouring, and turn back to her. My voice sounds dull and lifeless even to me. Talking about Crystal did that. Madeline saw my expression and didn’t press the subject. I knew what it looked like; it looked the same whenever I thought of Crystal. My eyes changed from the color of the sea during a storm to ice blue and my face goes pale.

She took the water with a quiet, “Thanks,” and then drank the entire glass faster than anyone I’d ever seen before. She clamped her mouth shut the second the glass left her lips. Slowly, her eyes change from purple to the color of a blaze of fire and then to a fire slowly dying. When her eyes had gone to the color of ashes long after a fire died, she slowly pursed her lips as if she was going to whistle and blew a slow stream of smoke into my office. Djinn. Of course! So the girl I saw was her twin! What was she after that she didn’t think Madeline could get? She passed over the books so obviously she didn’t know what they were or how powerful they are.

“Right, that’s pretty significant proof.” I say without a hint of sarcasm.

“I thought so, too.” She responds moderately.

“So you must be pretty new to not have a copy of the book yourself…”

“Like I said, I’m seventeen.”

“And your twin? Does she live with you or are you two…estranged?”

“No, we live together, you know the rules, I’m sure…” She wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

“You two don’t get along?” I don’t mean to pry but I needed to find out what her twin stole from me, not that it seemed like anything much.

“Why do you care?” She asks angrily, her eyes changing from the embers back into the fire. She must not have the recipe for the mood control potion. That’s why she wants the book.

“Because,” I say slowly, losing my temper a little too, “Someone who looked exactly like you broke into my office and stole things from me. I saw her running away clutching some of my missing items. Your twin is the only logical explanation considering you were outside my door a second later. That’s why I care.”

She swore quietly, surprising me, looking at the hole in the window saying almost inaudibly, “Cheyenne, what’d you get your self into? You know you only have one shot left before you’re…” Her voice faded as a sob fought its way out.

I didn’t want her to cry. I barely knew her but I know that I didn’t want her to cry because of something I told her. Without thinking I move toward her to comfort her, “Hey now, it's alright, she didn’t take anything important. I won’t press charges or tell Them or anything. She’ll be fine.” I reassure her and she surprises me with a hug. I take a step back because of the shock but then put my arms around her. She’s so tiny. She acts more like an imp than a djinn sometimes. She sobs into my shoulder and I wrap my arms a little tighter around her small frame.
After a moment or two she pulls away with a sad smile, “Sorry about that, I bet you’ve guessed why I want the book now,” She laughs wryly, “Speaking of which, may I please see it?”

“I’ll bring it by your house later tonight and I’ll help you make the potion, I’ve done it before. Plus, maybe I can talk to your sister about why she was snooping through my office while I’m there.” I laugh.

“Yeah, maybe, she tends to stay out late though most nights…” She didn’t make eye contact. “When would you like to stop by?”

“I close the bookstore around six o’clock, so could I come by about 6:30?” I propose.

“That sounds perfect. Well I should let you get back to your customers now,” She laughed coyly.

“Madeline, wait! I, uh, don’t have your address,” It would make it hard to stop by if I don’t know where she lives.

“Right!” She grabs a post-it off my desk and scribbles something down. “Okay, well, I’ll be off.” And with that, she smiles, twirls her hand three times above her head, and disappears like a wisp of smoke. I laugh to myself, tuck the post-it into the book, and go back to the main part of the store. Sydney and Bernie are still sitting in their chairs. They stare at me. I realize slowly how it looks to them. I entered my office with a very pretty girl yet exited without her. Bernie waggles his bushy white eyebrows at me and I flush. Or, at least I would’ve, except I’m a faery, and we don’t have red blood, so it makes it hard to blush.
Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve thought that. I’m a faery. I’m one of the fair folk. Fay. Not of this world. “Not of this world…” I say quietly to myself, just to remind myself of that crucial detail about myself. Madeline was the first one of Them that hadn’t seemed self conscious about not being from Here.

The day couldn’t end soon enough. I helped several more customers before closing at six on the dot. I shoo Sydney and Bernie out, then lock the front door. I pull the gates on the windows shut and lock them too. Usually I don’t because they take ages to unlock in the morning, but I’m not going to take any chances after the break in even though the Book won’t be there. I grab the Book and go out through the back door, locking it behind me, and go to my car.

The address is in the old part of town which surprises me since houses there either have extremely old tenants or get sold for extremely high prices. I park my car and walk up the pathway with the Book to a purple, Victorian style house. The door opens before I get a chance to knock and Madeline stands there. “You’re right on time. Welcome”. I follow her into her house and she leads me down the hallway and up the stairs to what I assume to be her bedroom except the closet is full of herbs and berries and the middle of her floor contains a medium sized cauldron.

We get to work immediately. She surprises me by already having most of the ingredients already laid out, having guessed some of what was in it. We quickly make the potion and leave it to simmer for an hour, as the spell requires. She sits on her bed and flips through the book a little, careful to keep her page, sighing softly over several spells and scrunching her face up in disgust a few times. I can understand why Bernie and Sydney thought we were doing something inappropriate when we were in my office. She really is a beautiful girl. All djinn are. Eventually she looks up at me, flips back to the page we were on, and pats the bed next to her. I sit near where she patted the bed, but put more distance between us. Madeline takes my hand off the bed and without thinking I start to rub my thumb in small circles. She hides a smile and says, “Thank you. For letting me see the book. And helping me make the potion.” She slides closer until our bodies meet.

“Of course, it is my job to assist any of Us in need of help.” I reply cordially. “But this,” my voice cracks as I gesture to her and myself, “is dangerous, you know as well as I do that faeries and djinn aren’t meant to be together and what might happen to us both.”

“What might happen,” She emphasizes, not looking at my eyes, but at my lips. She closes the distance between us. She’s not forcing herself on me, but it seems almost as if she is. Against my better judgment, and almost against my will, I bring my lips to hers. It’s only a kiss, but it's a touch too much. My head grows foggy and I fall back on her bed. Her eyes spring open.

“Finn? Finn!” Her voice is alarmed. I don’t mean to alarm her. I drift into a hazy sleep.

I open my eyes slowly and painfully. I’m still groggy but I look around. This isn’t my room… Where am I? Slowly my memory returns and I look around the room. I see a girl leaving the room with a vial of purple solution. The mood control potion is purple. I use my hands to sit up and brush someone else’s arm. Madeline’s lying on the bed next to me using the book as her pillow. The girl leaving the room must have been Cheyenne, her twin. Madeline must have been looking for a cure for me. My jaw drops open as I see the small tendrils of a plant growing out of the seam of the book, into her open mouth and down her throat. I feel her wrist for a pulse. Nothing. She’s gone. Tears well up in my eyes. I warned her about it, but now it was too late.