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“Fuck,” I shouted, arching my back, my bones aching, my muscles absolutely furious at the disrespect they’d been shown.
“Relax,” Herald shouted back. “Dude, relax. You’re okay.”
My eyes flew open. I was back on top of the hill, right next to the cairn. The dead trees surrounding us stooped over, watching, like a circle of spindly, judgmental beasts. I frowned at them, pushed myself off the ground, and yelped when I wrenched a muscle.
“Jesus,” I sobbed. “Oh Jesus, help me, please.”
Herald slapped my hands away from my body. “Don’t be such a damn baby. You fell two feet, tops.”
I scowled at him. “I fell from outer space, you absolute monster.”
“Then you should be nothing but cinders, you stupid idiot. You should be nothing but dust.”
“But I am – ”
“Don’t you fucking say it, Dustin Graves, I am not in the fucking mood.”
No kidding. Herald looked extra grumpy, even for Herald, but despite his irritation, he began to incant silently, weaving threads of violet light across my body. Tendrils of purple power sank through my clothes, reaching into my skin, and I sighed from the immediate relief.
“Bit of healing magic to make you stop your whining,” Herald said.
“Thank you,” I sighed. “And don’t be so pissed, you’re not the one who ended up on the moon and had to deal with the emptiness of outer space.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Tell me all about it when we get back to the tavern. I’m tired as hell and we still have to trek down this thing.”
“All you did was sit here. What have you got to be tired for?”
Herald’s eyes narrowed, and I swear they flashed with a tinge of red. “I’m tired because I’ve been freezing my ass off on this barren rock since you disappeared.” He flung his hand at the horizon, at the rising reds and oranges of a new sun. “It’s tomorrow, you idiot. You’ve been gone for eight hours.”
Chapter 23
I’d forgotten that time tended to bend in strange ways when crossing between our world and the domiciles of entities. The rules were never very consistent. Sometimes a minute in their world stretched to hours in ours.
Herald said that in one ancient Japanese myth, Urashima Taro, a fisherman, was rewarded for saving a turtle with a trip to the Dragon Palace, a majestic kingdom at the bottom of the sea. He thought he was gone for less than a week. Apparently, in our world, three hundred years had passed. I shuddered to think.
I did feel bad for making Herald stay up so late, with nothing to do to pass the time – but that was because I’m so quick to make assumptions about people. I forgot that he was always prepared and well-organized, almost pathologically so. He had a small stock of protein bars with him, enough for the two of us, just in case, along with several bottles of water, a handheld gaming console, and even a paperback.
“Then why were you acting so pissed with me for being gone for eight hours?” I said, noting the irritated whine in my own voice. “It sounds like you had a great time communing with nature, minus the nature.”
“Shush,” he said. “Shut up. We’re here.”
I grumbled, but Herald sighed happily as he pushed open the door to the Twilight Tavern. Again the warm, fuzzy magic of the bed and breakfast’s nullification field took over our bodies. My feet were about ready to carry me up
the stairs to take me to bed, but Herald tugged on my jacket and pointed me towards the dining room.
“Oh, hell yeah,” I said. Even from the stairs I could smell wonderful things wafting out of the kitchen. Breakfast was served.
We found Gil already tucking into a huge plate of assorted breakfast treats as we stepped in. Sterling was with him, massive sunglasses covering his eyes, his hair bedraggled, his cheek scored with fresh, shallow cuts.
Herald pulled up a chair at the table, and I followed suit. I chuckled at Sterling, who looked like a has-been rockstar who had ended up on the losing end of a bar fight.
“Rough night?” I said.
“Don’t ask,” he grumbled, sticking a thumb out at Gil. “This one kept me up. I don’t know how I’m still alive, frankly. At least Olga was nice enough to keep the blinds shut down here. I needed some coffee.”
I gave him a questioning look. “I’ve wondered about that. Coffee doesn’t affect you. Does it? You don’t process calories, so by that logic – ”
“Fuck logic. Shut up.” He brought his mug up to his lips, slurping noisily, looking thoroughly miserable.
