“What does that mean?” I ask, dread curling cold in my stomach.
The Realm-Hopper pauses, just for a second. Then he waves a hand dismissively.
“Never you mind. He says to say to you that he cares for you deeply and he wants you to have a happy life, even if it can’t be with him.”
My vision blurs suddenly and I have to blink to keep back tears.
“All…all right,” I manage. “Please tell him…tell him I said thank you so much.”
Whistler hesitates. Then, as if remembering something, he reaches into his coat again and pulls out a small object from one of his many pockets.
I stare at it as he flips it in the air. It’s a kind of token, made of dark metal, etched with the same sun eclipsed by the moon motif I saw on the back of the coins at the Crimson Spires.
“This,” he says casually, “is what I use to get from the Human Realm back to the Shadow Realm. It’s easy going that way—like sliding downhill, as it were—takes hardly any effort at all.”
“Is it?” I ask, frowning.”
“Oh yes, my Lady—it’s going the other way that’s hard. That’s why Don Lucian had to shed his blood to make the portal—it’s like trying to climb up from inside a tunnel with slick sides when you’re going from the Shadow Realm to the Human world,” he tells me. “That’s because the Shadow Realm sits under the Human world—easy one way, near impossible the other. Except for a Realm-Hopper like me who has the right equipment.”
He flips the token again and then becomes distracted, folding the amazing bag that held so much. He tucks it carefully back into one of the many pockets in his coat muttering something about how he “Mustn’t loose his bag of holding.’’
When he gets everything the way he wants it, he looks at me and Hanna.
“Well, ladies—I’m off. I wish you both a happy and prosperous life.”
Then—pop—he’s gone.
Silence rushes in and Hanna and I stare at each other.
Mr. Mittens purrs loudly from the top of his new cat tree.
Neither of us speaks.
But my eyes drift to my coffee table and I see it lying there—the token Whistler was flipping in the air.
Did he leave it by accident? On purpose?
I suppose I’ll never know.
67
Jules
Hanna and I are still staring at each other when her phone goes off loudly.
“Oh crap—the hospital!” she exclaims and lunges for her scrubs—which are folded neatly on top of the pile Whistler left on my couch.
This makes me think of all the calls I’ve probably missed myself. I go in the bedroom and find my phone, where I left it before Whistler came to get me in the first place. For a wonder, I still have some battery left and—sure enough—I have tons of missed calls and texts.
Most of them are from my Book Club friends but a fair share of them are from work too. I scroll down and go through my voicemails. The last one is from Mr. Philbens, my supervisor. With a feeling of dread sitting like a brick in the pit of my stomach, I press the right buttons and bring the phone to my ear. What I get is an earful of Mr. Philbens telling me I’m fired if I don’t call back with an excellent excuse for my absence for the past few days.
Great…just great. I look at the time—it’s too late to call him now. And besides, what am I going to say?
“Sorry, I was kidnapped by a Vampire Mafia Don and taken to a whole other world for most of the week.”
Yeah—I don’t see Mr. Philbens going for that. I guess I’m out of a job.
Well…maybe I can sell some of the clothes that Lucian sent home with me. In the meantime, I’ll just have to deal, I think to myself.
