Meanmna: Book One of the Daearen Realms (2 page)

I was still trying to stop thinking about my dad when I pulled onto Maumee Street with one of my favorite songs, “Ain’t Life Grand” by Widespread Panic, playing on the radio. Music always remind
s me of my dad. I say “reminds me”, but that’s wrong—you have to have actually met someone to be reminded of them. I don’t even know him. I think I look like him, but if I squint and tilt my head, I can see mom’s contributions, too. I have Dad’s hair, at least from what I can tell in the only picture I have of him. There’s only a quarter of his face and hair showing, but that’s more than I’ve seen of him in person. He has a beer in his hand and is standing with a gaggle of folks outside some venue, waiting to see Widespread Panic. The picture is slightly blurry and out of focus because it was blown up from the original. That’s my dad, though, blurry and out of focus.

I wanted to park on the street
and started looking carefully for someone who might be leaving as I drove through. Adrian is a beautiful old town with broad sidewalks, small shops, and a never-ending supply of small town gossip. But, like many towns in Michigan and across the States, it lost jobs in manufacturing when big box stores moved into town. Adrian is a two-college town, Adrian College and Siena Heights University, so it has held on better than a lot of small towns. I circled around the block again, still in search of a parking place.

“There’s one,” I shouted as
I turned onto a side street and saw an empty space. “It’s official. I’m going crazy. I’m talking to myself and that’s
got to
be one step closer to crazy land.” I paused, “And now I’m talking to myself about talking to myself! Maybe there’s a magic candle to ward off the crazies.”

Muttering to myself as I pulled into the spot, I heard a slight laugh behind and to the right of me. I threw my car into park and spun around, half expecting someone to be there. Seeing no one, tears sprang to my eyes
. “And now I’m hearing things; maybe I
am
going crazy.” At least I
thought
I heard something, but I definitely felt the melancholy that must precede losing one’s grip on reality. I blinked the tears away, checked my reflection in the mirror, and got out. It was a beautiful winter day. I’m not the biggest fan of the cold, but you can’t complain about a sunny and clear December day in Michigan.

I hustled past the Croswell Theatre and walked quickly to get out of the vicious winter wind. The bell chimed as I walked into Visions.
There were no other customers in there, which wasn’t surprising; it had been that way every time I went to the shop. Stuff crowded that very small space, and the windows were always shuttered. I’d often wondered how the place stayed in business, but I was glad it was there. I’d also wondered why the religious right in the area had allowed a mystical bookstore to open in Adrian; maybe it gave everyone something to complain about together, for unity. That is not to say there is not a pseudo-open discussion as to whether Visions is good for the community. There’s the occasional op-ed piece in the paper, which is a thinly-veiled attack on the occult and insinuating the devil’s commercial agenda, but no one has been brave enough to protest in person. Cowards. Whatever.

I waited a few seconds, taking in the smell of sage, incense, and a mixture of other organic smells while my eyes adjusted to the crazy ambient lighting. When I could see again, I noticed the Christmas lights hanging haphazardly from one piece of furniture or fixture to the next, giving a multi-colored glow that added to the ambiance. Wind chimes were clinking and ringing
as the air from a small oscillating fan blew past them. Bookcases lined all the walls. I smiled when I saw the bookcase that contained the novels about vampires, fairies, witches, werewolves, and such. Celine, the shop’s owner, had a handwritten sign hanging over it that read “FICTION?” as if she had a question about whether or not that stuff was real.

The case to
the left displayed all the candles. I needed a new water candle. I have no idea why mine always burned up so much faster than the others. One would think that a “water” candle would burn slower. Nor do I understand why I shouldn’t purchase a batch of them at one time, but Celine said you get better results from a new candle that has recently had the appropriate spell cast. Apparently spells have a short shelf life, so I come here a lot. A candle burning in each corner of my room has always helped my paranoia. I’ve often felt like I was being watched. The candles seemed to keep me safe in a bubble. That’s why I preferred being at home most of the time.

There was no real order of displays in the cramped little retail space at Visions
; Celine felt there was no need for such accoutrements. “You’ll know when you find what you need,” she always said. I started moving carefully around a table of crystals. A giggle from near the counter startled me. I turned quickly, lost my footing and started to fall. I could always count on my clumsiness to make most days interesting. I grabbed the table to avoid a thunderous fall. Somehow I made contact with a crystal and cut my hand on the jagged points. Taking a deep breath, I looked around to see who might have witnessed my escapade.
No one
. “Great,” I said aloud and threw up my hands in a victory pose. That’s when I heard another giggle. I turned slowly and this time I saw a child poking her head up from behind the counter.

“You’re funny,” she said with a little awe in her voice. “Your colors are so pretty. I’ve never seen them look like that.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant about colors; I was wearing earth tones. Feeling more embarrassed than anything, I nodded and smiled to the girl. She came around the counter. Standing before me was a strawberry-haired pixie, about five years old and as cute as could be, with big green luminescent eyes and pink cheeks. She had a silver band across her forehead that looked like a crown. She was holding a clear crystal wand with an amethyst spirit crystal on the end. A spirit crystal has a large quartz in the center, like a spire, and small crystals growing out of it. It’s shaped kind of like a pineapple, and this one was the most beautiful one I had ever seen. I’m not sure why a kid would have one, since they are very rare and are indigenous to the Magaliesberg Mountain region of South Africa.
Thanks, Mom the geologist. I feel smart.

“Hello. That is a beautiful wand for a beautiful girl!”

“Thanks!” She grinned, twirled around, and said, “So, do you know what kind of the fair people you are yet?”

“Huh?”

“Paige …” Celine said as she walked through a beaded curtain from the back room. A sign hung above the opening that read “Employees Only”, quite comical since Celine was the only employee. She stopped, her eyes widening when she saw the little girl. Turning to me, Celine said, “I see you met my . . . um . . . niece . . . Paige.”

Breaking the totally strange silence, I walked to Paige with my hand out. “Hi, Paige. I’m Sarette.” She looked at my hand like she had no idea what to do with it. That’s when I noticed the blood. “Oh
, shoot! I cut my hand on the crystal.” I grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on the counter to clean it up. The bell on the door rang. Glancing up at the mirror behind the counter, I saw the door slowly swing open and then shut, but no one was there.

“Got anything to keep me from losing the rest of my mind?” I asked Celine. She was staring with a frown on her face at something behind me and to my right. After a moment, she smiled and gently patted me on the arm.

“Oh, sweetheart. That’s an old door. You’re not going crazy. So, why are you here besides the coo-coo candle?”

“Is there a coo-coo candle?” That half-laugh—more of a snicker—sounded behind me again. This time I pretended I didn’t hear it. No need to alienate anyone else with my crazy weirdness. “My water candle burned up again.”

Celine gave another quick look behind me.

“I’ll get it!” Paige yelled as she ran around the crystal table and past me, glancing and giggling to the door as if there was something there.
That’s it. I’m leaving here and checking into a mental hospital. What the hell is going on?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the feeling of being watched. The feelings had grown increasingly intense since last spring, and for the past week,  I had been hearing and seeing things. Like laughing when no one is there and doors opening without assistance. Then there was the weird buzz I felt coming from the crystal that I had just cut my hand on.
Wait a minute. I did feel something, didn’t I?

I went back to the table to t
ake a better look at the crystal. It was a translucent dark green stone with little white swirls that appeared to be moving inside of it. About the size of a baseball, it had a relatively smooth bottom and several jagged edges on top. I clasped the crystal in my hand and felt a little buzz or tingle again. “What kind of crystal is this? It looks like it’s moving. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I looked up to Celine, who had a strange look on her face.

“I didn’t realize I h
ad put that out. It’s not time yet.” Celine sighed and looked past me, shrugging her shoulders. “It's an amazonite crystal.”

“Amazonite? I didn’t realize they could be
translucent.” I looked down again and saw it was opaque, rather than the single shade of see-through green like before. Now there were different shades of green throughout and white swirls that looked like solid veins.
I am losing my mind. I’m going to have to go three towns over so nobody sees me check into the crazy house.

“No, you’re not,” said a voice that I’m pretty sure I only heard in my head. I put the amazonite down on the table and looked up.

“You know? I think I’ll wait until next time for that candle. I don’t feel very good, and well, um, I . . . you know . . . I have to go.” I started for the door.

“Why don’t you take the crystal?” Paige said. She was smiling as she stood in front of me with her little arm holding it up. “It should help you see things beyond your understanding.”

She did not just say that.
I didn’t want to start screaming and make a run for it, so I forced a smile and looked at Celine. “How much do I owe you?”

Celine smiled a strained smile. “On the
house,” she said. “It found you. It’s time.”

I’m not going to ask what time it is, I’m sure it’s not time to get ill.
I’m going to have to find a new magic store when I get out of the loony bin.

No!
I heard in my head, a little more forcefully this time. I took the crystal and ignored the buzz I felt.

“Um, thanks. I guess I’ll see you soon.” I nervously grabbed the knob, opened the door, and headed to the street
, looking in all directions.

“I can’t wait to see you again!” shouted Paige.
I smiled and waved to her, then I turned around and started walking.
I’d love to see you again too, little girl, but it will be at least seventy-two hours before I get out of the nuthouse.

“
No!” I heard the voice again—this time out loud and coming from behind me. I sprinted toward my car. I kept hitting the unlock button on the key fob, just to make sure the door would not be locked when I got there. I jerked the door open and, panting, got in as fast as I could. After a moment, I looked in the rear view mirror. Someone was sitting in my backseat staring at me. I think I screamed before I fainted.

I have to be dreaming again
, I thought as I wiggled my toes in the grass. I raised my gaze and looked around.
Yep, the same place, the same dream.
The same green rolling hills and trees covered in strangely colored flowers. The sun was high in the sky and I felt its heat on my face. Looking toward the mountain range in the distance, I felt the urge again. There was something I was supposed to get to on the other side of the mountains, but I could never get any closer than this. I try every time I have this dream, but something felt different this time. Something sounded different too. There was water gurgling, splashing and lapping to my left. The compulsion to try to get to the mountain left me. I needed to see the water—it was calling me, and like a moth to a flame I ran to it, into the forest, ducking under trees, jumping over brush. The twinkling blue water called to me through the limbs and leaves ahead. My heart was pumping and I could hear the water, even over the erratic beating of my heart. I ran as fast as I could in the long flowing dress I’m always wearing in these dreams. I broke through the trees and skidded to a stop. On the shore was a man dressed in jeans and a band tee shirt, Phish maybe, but I couldn’t tell from where I was standing.
Who the hell is he?
What the hell is
he
doing here? What am
I
doing here?

“Hello, Sarette.”

I glanced around, looking for a weapon.
Wait! This is a dream. Nobody can hurt me in a dream.
I took a deep breath. “Who are you?”

He smiled and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Yep, he works out.
He chuckled and looked over at me like he could hear my thoughts. I blushed and looked down.
Wait a minute! This is my dream.
I looked up. “I asked you who you are.” That sounded much more confident than I felt.
God, I’m even a wuss when I’m sleeping.

“You really need to stop putting yourself down,” he said. “Also, for the record, you are
not
going crazy. This is all normal . . . well,
mostly
normal.” He smiled.

God, he has a great smile, I wonder how many years he had braces? I had to two cycles over five years and my teeth aren’t that good. Why do I keep looking at his lips?

He laughed again. His hair looked almost black and was run through with dark red. His eyes were dark green, his lips totally kissable. “If you would like me to stop hearing what you’re thinking, you should probably wake up and talk to me. I’m the guy sitting in your back seat.” He winked, and disappeared; I started yelling to an empty space.

“My backseat? What? Oh wait! That’s right; there’s a
telepathic axe murderer sociopath sitting in the backseat of my car, waiting to chop me into little pieces. I’d rather stay asleep for that! Thank you very much. Get it over with already; I’m already crazy. Just finish me off!”

“I’m not an axe murderer sociopath
, and I have already told you that you’re
not
crazy. Wake up, please. I’d really like to talk in person, on your plane.” It sounded like he was right next to my ear. His voice was oddly soothing in a Barry White or grandpa sort of way.

“Ok.” I closed my eyes, but nothing happened. I waited a couple more seconds and reopened them. “Um. Still here. Am I supposed to be doing something to get out of here?
You mentioned a plane?” Looking around, my eyes suddenly felt very heavy. I closed them again.

My face felt cold and wet and was
pressed cockeyed against the window.
Great! Yay me! I’m sure I’m looking super-hot with my face smashed against the window and drool running down my chin. I can’t wait until these pictures land on Instagram.

I lifted my head off the glass and heard the deep voice from the backseat say, “Well, I’m not
going to put any pictures on Instagram or Facebook, or any videos on YouTube. I promise.”

“Please don’t kill me. Take whatever you want.” I grabbed my purse and whipped it over the seat without looking.

“Didn’t we just go over this? I do not have an axe. I am not a sociopath. You are not crazy. And, we really need to talk . . . Sarette? Please look at me.”

I slowly opened my eyes
but didn’t turn around. “Dreams are not real,” I whispered, and started repeating a mantra. “This is not real. This is not real. This is not real.”

“Sometimes dreams are real, Sarette,” h
e said softly. “I promise I am not going to hurt you. Please turn around.”

Was he pleading? Why would an
axe murderer beg to see me?
I slowly turned around and gasped. There he was!

“It’s you!
”
The man of my dreams, I mean, the man
in
my dreams, in not of.
He chuckled and looked straight at me. “Are you still reading my mind? Because you need to stop. There’s a lot going on up here.” I pointed to my head while making the crazy sign. “I don’t even know who you are and you know my thoughts! That takes a lot of nerve. I don’t remember inviting you into my head.”
I’m rambling! Stop talking! Why is he smiling at me?

“Sorry, I won’t read your mind anymore
, now that you’re ready to see me.” He paused. “Well, you’re going to see more strange things. But for now, we need to talk about—”

“Who are you? What is going on? This is it, isn’t it? The moment I realize I am totally and completely insane. I’m a paranoid psychotic, aren’t I? You’re a figment of my imagination
, here to help me understand my craziness.”

“For God’s sakes, Sarette! You are not crazy, but you are very likely to drive
me
crazy if you don’t stop and listen.” He took an overly dramatic deep breath. I almost said something, but he put his hand up to stop me. I hadn’t noticed before, but he had a slight accent I couldn’t place.
God, that’s sexy.
He took another deep breath and started again. “My name is Elwin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally. I’ve—”

“What do you mean finally?
You’ve been watching me? Are you some kind of stalker?”

“I’ve been sent here by your family. I’m here to help you get ready for the journey to meet them.” He put his arm across the back of the seat and nonchalantly looked at me with a half-smile
, acting as if he had uttered the most normal statement in the world.

“Wait. What? My
family?” I exploded. “I don’t know what kind of crazy crap this is, but my
family
is my mom, who is at home crying. Mathew is on a date with a girl whose name starts with an S, I think. And Mathew’s mom, Peggy, is . . . I haven’t any idea where she is or what she’s doing, but she would not have sent some hunky guy to prepare me. She’s never had a dating problem and she would have kept you for herself.”
Did I really did just say that?
I turned back around, started the car, and said, “It’s time for you to get out.”

“Listen, we really need to talk. I can help you understand what’s been going on. I can help you understand who you really are. When you are ready to talk, I’ll find you.” He put his hand on the door handle and got out of the car.
Wow! He’s tall and he’s smirking again. He had better not be reading my mind—it’s my crazy mind.
He leaned down and looked at me through the window. “I know this is a shock, so please think about it. I’ll be seeing you around, Sarette Miller.” He shut the door and started walking away.

I watched him in my rearview mirror until his outline started to go b
lurry and he disappeared. I shook my head in disbelief. This is too much—much too much. I am going crazy.

No, you are not. Goodnight, Sarette.
I heard in my head.

I headed back home
with no coffee, no candle, and my last shred of sanity gone.