The plane landed on a lonely tarmac, scraped clean of snow but surrounded by towering piles of it. The silence out there was heavy, broken only by the distant whine of the plane's engine as it powered down. No airport. No control tower. Just an endless expanse of snow, stretching out as far as the eye could see.
As I stepped off the plane, the cold hit me like a wall. It was bitter, biting into the thin fabric of my football jersey and threadbare jeans. My teeth chattered, and I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the icy sting spreading through my limbs.
"Where the hell are we?" I mumbled through clenched teeth, rubbing my arms for warmth. "Antarctica?"
Without a word, Erick draped a heavy cloak over my shoulders. It was warm, far too comforting, considering the source.
He wasn't forthcoming with the where, so my next question was how we got there.
"Magic," he replied with a dismissive shrug, "The quick answer is magic. The longer answer would hurt your head."
I shot him a sharp look, the sarcastic response only deepening my resentment. Of course, it was easy for him to act superior. He had everything-power, knowledge, privilege-while I had barely survived the last four years. My stomach twisted with a mixture of anger and the lingering betrayal that still cut deep.
"Oh sure, accuse me of being stupid, why don't you? Thanks," I sniped.
He gave me a long sigh, and seemed regretful.
"Well, since you want to know..." Erick began a long dissertation on the intricacies of why there was only one tarmac and no tower or airport. It started with a long-winded paragraph on the science and nature of portals and ended with the various physiologies and abilities of air faes.
We got into a sleek, black limousine, the kind that screamed wealth and privilege. It was a stark contrast to the rugged nothingness outside. As I sank into the plush leather seats, I tried to ignore Erick's presence beside me, but it was impossible. His voice droned on about air fae and portals, but I barely listened, focusing instead on the limo driver's silent figure. Anything to keep from acknowledging that Erick was right there, close enough to touch.
As Erick droned on about the mathematics of illusion, I studied the driver. He was a silent guy with hooded eyes and a beak-like nose. The moment we came up to the limo, all he did was nod and open the door.
I would have loved to have had him introduce himself now, anything to interrupt Erick. The seats of the limo were comfy and this was not helping me stay awake. And I wanted to stay awake.
After finding myself in his arms while I was unconscious. I felt the need to be awake.
After Erick finished his explanation, he continued to face me in silence. That face of his, so familiar and so hated, had haunted me for four years. I hated the little starbursts in his eyes; I hated his shining hair that reminded me so much of the snow around us, and I especially hated that mouth that still looked kissable.
Those lips upturned a little as his brow lifted in silent question.
Realizing that I was staring, I sought something else to think about other than Erick's lips. "My friends - "
"They are coming with Keenan and Enan in another car."
"Enan and Keenan. That must have been Tweedle Dee and Dum's actual names.
Their parents had rhymed their names.
How... twinsy.
I wondered which one was which but wasn't interested enough to ask.
"Are those two friends of yours, or did you rent them from 1-800-Lynchmen?"
He hissed mockingly. "So unkind. They are loyal to the family. They protect your cousin, normally, but did me a favor today."
"A cousin too? Will I be meeting that person?"
"You should be. She will be coming with her mother to collect the twins."
"Oh." I wish I could have come up with something more clever to respond with, but I was too shellshocked.
If I'd had all this family, why hadn't anyone tried to find me before? I'd spent all those years with my mother in hiding, never even knowing I had family. It begged the question as to why that was.
If they were so great, why had she tried to hide me from them? She'd taken care of me by herself in that deep, Oregon forest.
In my haziest of memories, I had a father but... he had died. Mother never told me why, and my suspicions of relatives all of sudden only grew.
Why had they violently sought me out this way? Were they going to murder me in the comfort of their own home?
My thoughts grew more ridiculous as I imagined them doing away with me while playing croquet, or maybe laughing as they used my dead body as a canape tray.
Wincing, I turned away from Erick and pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window, trying to calm myself down. The scenery that passed us by was breathtaking. The snow had frosted the rocks like hot cinnamon rolls. The naked trees had their arms spread out, adorned with icicles like jewels, and stoles of more snowdrifts draped upon them like ermine.
Luis would have loved to have romped in that snow. Dominic would hate it. He hated the cold as much as he hated reality TV. Thinking of Dom and Luis got me thinking of the strange affectionate turns in my relationships with them today and how I'd repaid it by getting them into this fix.
"Won't you speak to me?" Erick's voice broke the silence, gentle but insistent.
I turned my head slightly, not enough to look at him. "Why? I've said all I need to say to you."
"You haven't told me what really happened these past four years. You're different, Madeline. Harder."
I scoffed, biting back the bitterness. "Oh, you want to know if I'm okay? What, to make yourself feel better? You know quite well I'm not okay."
His silence was answer enough, and I didn't bother waiting for him to explain. "You betrayed me," I said, the words coming out sharp, acidic, and strong. "My mother turned me into a boy and abandoned me. I nearly died on the streets, and until today, I was just trying to survive. So yeah, Erick, thanks for asking. I'm doing great."
The tension between us stretched taut. My fingers twisted in the hem of my 49ers jersey, a nervous habit I hated but couldn't seem to stop. "Why do you even care?" I whispered, more to myself than to him. "What good does it do you to know what your betrayal did to me?"
"Think of it as exquisite torture," he said softly. "I've been tortured every day since you left."
I wanted to laugh, wanted to scream, wanted to hit him all at once. The audacity of him playing the victim in this twisted mess was almost unbearable. Yet, deep down, some part of me longed to believe him. Longed to believe that he had suffered, too. It was pathetic, and I hated myself for it.
My voice dropped, losing some of its edge as I stared out the window. "I thought the worst day of my life was when you betrayed me. But life taught me there can always be worse days."
I told him all about my time on the streets - all the dangers.
"I wasn't on the streets for long, just a few weeks, but it was enough to learn that lesson. My friend Luis and I spent a lot of time just fighting to survive. We also tried to help anyone else that was being harassed, if we could. Adrian was one such kid. He found us while Luis and I were eating in an alley. He was thirteen, and I had just turned fourteen, as you remember. Thanks for that great birthday present, by the way."
Erick said nothing in reply. I eyed him for a moment, then continued.
"Adrian showed up one day, a scrawny little kid who punched me in the face the moment we met." I allowed myself a small, bitter smile. "He was scared, just like I was. I promised him I'd protect him, even though I couldn't even protect myself."
"What happened after?" Erick's voice was low, careful, like he was treading on thin ice.
I swallowed hard, the memories flashing through my mind like jagged glass. "The last day on the streets... I got stabbed. By someone I thought was my friend. Joseph."
Erick's eyes misted, and he reached for my hand, but I pulled away, the hatred surging back up like bile. "Don't touch me," I hissed, my voice sharp.
A long silence followed, the weight of the past pressing between us like an unmovable force. Erick's expression, once so controlled, showed cracks. Pain. Regret. But I couldn't let myself care. I wouldn't.
The limo continued its smooth ride, but inside, everything felt like chaos. I couldn't decide what was worse: the memories of the past or the twisted feelings still stirring inside me for the man who had broken my heart.