The Rise of Onyx Page 6

  Fae’s smile rapidly fades, and then her eyes widen. “Oh. I wasn’t aware it’d make you unhappy. I’m sorry, Constance. I should have had the foresight to keep it to myself. That is, if I heard her correctly. I might be wrong. I hope, for your sake, that I misheard their intent.”

  I force a smile and pat her gently on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be all right, God willing.” In our family, and many others like it, ‘God willing’ is a largely overused term, but it suffices to fill in any gaps in conversation that are otherwise left unfilled.

  “Okay. Sorry, again, about that.” My sister sadly walks out the door of the schoolhouse to join her friends on the school grounds. I’m left alone with my half-eaten sandwich and the partially-chewed bits of it that landed on my desk. As I fetch a nearby rag to clean up the mess, I can’t shake the dull aching that I feel in the pit of my stomach. Somehow, I have a bad feeling that I’m going to find out what she meant very, very soon.

  ✷✷✷

  “Griffin. Are you there? Come in, Griffin.”

  He materialized only moments ago, and finds himself on a grassy area near a schoolhouse.

  “I’m here, I think I made it. What year is it, again?”

  He hears whooping and hollering on the other side of the receiver built into his bracelet, and once they settle down long enough to respond to him, he hears Evander on the other end answer him. “Griffin, you are in Earth year 1790. Congratulations! We did it, you are the first time traveler ever!”

  Griffin steps back, leaning against the tree behind him. “Wow. Okay. That’s… incredible.”

  “Don’t celebrate too much yet though. We’ve got to get you back safe before we get too thrilled. Okay. I’m going to try to guide you to Constance.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s his mother. Onyx’s mother, that is.”

  Griffin sharply exhales, and waits for further instructions. “Okay, what do I do? Where is she, how do I recognize her?”

  Evander hesitates to answer him, as he’s not totally sure, but then consults the top-secret files on his tablet. “Okay, so it seems that she was a schoolteacher, and looks to have blonde hair and bright blue eyes… Just like Onyx.”

  Griffin nods. “What is a ‘schoolteacher’?”

  “Well, on Earth, older humanoids teach the younger humanoids basic skills to help them in life and to provide a certain level of prestige.”

  “Oh, okay.” Griffin nods, even though he quickly realizes that no one can see him. “So where is she, exactly?”

  “Don’t know for sure, but maybe checking the schoolhouse in front of you would be a good place to start.” Evander’s sass is unmistakable, even through the receiver.

  “Right, okay. Will do.”

  “But Griffin, you must be extremely cautious about two things. One - she cannot find you, because you might change the course of history. Stay in hiding. Two - don’t talk to anyone, if you can help it. I understand you may need to procure food, and other necessities, but do so very carefully. This is unprecedented, and as I’ve established, we don’t actually know how time travel is going to affect things. Be aware of that and tread lightly.”

  “I understand, Evander. I will do my best. Remind me again, what exactly I am watching her for?”

  “You need to find the precise moment when she decides to abort the baby. We’ve placed you there about a week before its conception. Watch her, and tell us the specific time coordinates of her decision.”

  “Time coordinates?”

  “On your wristband, there is a small screen with numbers moving every second, correct? I need you to look at that and tell me what it says at that moment. There is a bit of wiggle room if it is slightly off, but get it as close as you can. I can play around with slight variations if I need to.”

  “I’m on it. Sit tight, I’ll let you know.”

  CHAPTER 2

  When school is dismissed for the day, I pack up my things, and wait for Fae to be ready so I can walk home with her. I close the door behind me and walk at a leisurely pace while she skips next to me, clanking her lunch pail against a nearby wooden fence.

  “Constance, when is the spelling test again? I always forget.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and give her a stern glance instead. “Next Thursday. I do hope you’ve been studying. It’s on list eighteen - did you leave your text at school again?”

  Fae sheepishly nods.

  “Well, it’s no matter. You can get it tomorrow - you won’t need it tonight anyway.” I continue walking toward our house as Fae skips a bit ahead of me, but it’s just as well, because we pass the Abbott home again. And I happen to see Finn working the field with his pa. His white shirt is soaked almost completely through with sweat, and he undoes a few of the lacings to let his strong chest get some of the fresh spring air.

  “Constance, you’re staring…”

  Fae must have turned back and caught up with me, because she’s inches from my ear and clearly embarrassed on my behalf. I wish I could say I was, but I was mesmerized. It’s hard to say exactly what about him was doing that to me.

  I’ve known him since I was in primary school myself - years before I began teaching. I remember he used to throw little bits of white chalk at the back of my head, and I would always turn around and scowl at him. I used to be so utterly annoyed at him… that is, until I wasn’t anymore.

  “Come on, let’s go. Ma's probably fixing dinner by now.” Fae pulls at my hand, but I might as well be stuck in a puddle of molasses. Not even caring how odd I look, I stand in place as Finn sees me and immediately walks over to the road from his yardwork. The sweat on his face and body glistens in the sun, and I tell myself not to stare too obviously.

  “Hello there, Mistress Miller. Lovely day, isn’t it?” He elongates my title of respect, as if to make fun of me or to honor me. I’m not totally sure which, it seems ambiguity in this case was what he was striving for.

  “Good day, Finn.” I can feel my face heating up, and I just hope it’s not too noticeable. It’s not good to be so obviously smitten in a public place.

  “And how was school for you, Fae?” He smiles sweetly at my younger sister, who just shrugs and starts fiddling with the knot on her apron.

  “It was fine, I suppose.”

  Finn feigns shock and covers his mouth with a grimy hand from working a long day in the field that wasn’t quite over yet. “Fine? But your dear sister is your teacher, is she not? You should be more grateful to her for teaching you so well.”

  Fae pouts, clearly embarrassed, but she’s unable to articulate an appropriate response.

  “Aw, don’t worry. There’s fresh squeezed lemonade in the kitchen if you want a glass. Go ask my ma for some.”

  “Finn, we really should be going…” But Fae is already halfway to the front door of the Abbott home. As tired as I was already, I take a step forward to chase after her, but a strong, yet gentle hand on my arm holds me back. I try to ignore the warmth spreading to my entire body from his touch on my wrist.

  “Constance, I just wanted to say… you looked beautiful today. This morning, I saw you and just… I had to say it.”

  I meet his deep brown eyes with my bright blue ones, and I try to say something equally respectable and intelligent, but nothing more than some hesitant mumbling escapes my lips. I blush even redder, embarrassed at my own inaptitude.

  “No need to respond, I can see that I must have inhibited your ability to speak.” He smirks at me, fully reading my much-too-obvious body language, to my chagrin.

  “Well, I, uh…” I look over to the open door to catch a glimpse of Fae chatting pleasantly with Goody Abbott. “Thank you very much, for the lemonade, Goody, but Fae and I really must be going.”

  She nods happily, and places the pitcher of lemonade back onto the tabletop. “Always a pleasure, girls. God be with ye.”

  I smile back and grab Fae’s slightly sticky hand from the lemonade condensation. “Goodbye, Master Abbo
tt.” I take a great amount of pleasure beating him at his own game, as recognition hits his face and he smirks, clearly noticing my slick reaction to his earlier joke.

  Fae and I continue the walk back to our house, waving to other neighbors as we pass by. But none of them catch my eye nearly as much as Finn.

  ✷✷✷

  “Onyx, do you want to see your mother?” Evander approaches Onyx’s throne hesitantly, as he has noticed Onyx become more easily agitated as of late.

  “What do you mean?” The remaining color drains out of Onyx’s face, even though there isn’t much left to speak of at this point.

  “Your mother. We’re tracking her through Griffin. You can see the footage, if you want. I think you’ve got her eyes.” Evander smiles at him, but Onyx appears unable to respond. After much silence, Onyx nods slowly.

  “All right, I suppose I’ll see her.” He audibly swallows, and sits up straighter in his seat-turned-prison.

  Evander smiles at Luna, who is also sitting nearby. With a few clicks of his tablet, Evander projects the most recent footage of Constance onto the large screen of the Grand Hall.

  At the sight of her walking with another, younger girl on a bustling street corner, his face seems to soften momentarily before it hardens again. His lips, which seemed to be fighting an almost-smile, move back into their more customarily neutral position.

  “See? I told you she has your eyes.”

  “His hair too - she’s very blonde…” Luna chimes in happily, momentarily oblivious to his discomfort.

  Onyx remains silent, and begins tapping his fingertips incessantly on the armrest of his throne.

  “Maybe so, but she never gave herself a chance to see them.”

  Evander and Luna exchange troubled glances, but they quickly compose themselves long enough to keep Onyx from getting too upset.

  “Well, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be, then.” Luna tries to smile at him thoughtfully to diffuse some of the pain she imagines that he probably feels, but to no avail.

  “Luna, it’s more complicated than that… and you know it.” His eyes begin to glow an even brighter blue as his flaming hair seems to grow even stronger. She nods in response, but her own violet eyes fail to hide the strongest of emotion she feels - that of longing. He longs for what never was, and Luna longs for what once was and is no longer. Reconciling it all is what Griffin set out to do, but it is certainly easier said than done.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Good evening, Constance. How was your day?” Mother smiles at me from behind her favorite spot in the kitchen, seemingly preparing for our evening meal. Soft tendrils of her hair stick to her clammy forehead on this warm spring late afternoon.

  “It was fine, Ma. Just another day.” I move toward my bedroom in our small house - well, the one I share with Fae.

  “Constance, where has Fae gone to? It is nearly time for supper. Your father will be home from the field any moment now.” She looks curiously around the main room of our modest little home.

  “She stopped to pick some of the flowers we passed on our way home, so she should be back any minute.” Mother nods, and then looks down at the large blob of dough that she’s kneading.

  “Well, since I have you here alone for a moment, I suppose there’s something we should discuss.” My ears burn at the likely implication of her words - I can only imagine what it is she likely wants to talk to me about. And I’m not happy at the prospect as I am imagining it. She opens her mouth to continue speaking, but pauses. “How silly of me - I think we should wait until your father arrives home. I’m sure he would like to be a part of the conversation.”

  I nod as politely as I can manage, even though I catch myself tightly gripping a handful of my apron in my right fist. I continue on toward my room just as Fae breezes through the front door.

  “Fae! I told you to stay with your sister. Why did you dawdle like this?” Mother has her flour-covered hands on her hips, but I cannot mistake the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as Fae sheepishly holds the makeshift bouquet fabricated from the wildflowers that grow along the side of the road.

  “They’re for you, Mother. I thought maybe you’d like them for the dinner table.” Mother softens in response, and happily takes the flowers from Fae and deposits them in a pitcher of water.

  “How thoughtful of you! They’re very pretty, Fae. But do try to walk with your sister to and from school please. I don’t want the rambunctious Johnson children to bother you again.”

  I roll my eyes at the thought of the family living a mere three houses away from ours, and the way that they always seemed to get their grubby fingers into everything - and I mean everything. They always seem to create and attract gossip like flies to honey, and there was no shortness of excitement when they are around - but not necessarily the good kind. There are four of them: Grace, Love, Calm, and Noble - and they couldn’t be more ironically named. Noble, the eldest brother, who is a very immature twelve-year-old, always enjoys bothering Fae. At church last week, he was pulling her braids the entire time and refused to stop. I tried to swat him away without making a scene, but there just wasn’t much I could do about it. I have a hunch that he fancies Fae, but she would be mortified at that prospect - and who could blame her? Calm, his younger and quite rambunctious brother is about ten years old, I believe and he is anything but. Just last month he was harshly punished for climbing on my father’s horse without his permission - and nearly got kicked in the throat. Frankly, I think that would have served him right - the little maggot. Love and Grace are the eight-year old identical twins, and they enjoy pretending to be each other to confuse the entire compound. I still to this day am not completely sure which of them is which. Regardless of who is who, I can understand why Mother likely desires to keep Fae away from them at all costs - those children are nothing but bad news, and quite insufferable, if I do say so myself. Their parents do very little to inhibit them in their obnoxious escapades, much to everyone’s dismay.

  Fae nods her head, her braids bobbing energetically next to her ears. “Yes, Mother.”

  “Both of you, go wash your faces before dinner. It will be ready very shortly.” We both grab our things and drop them off in our shared room before heading off to the washroom. After pouring some fresh, clean water into the basin, we both wash our faces and pat them dry with the hand-sewn face cloths that Mother made for each of us last summer. Emerging from the washroom, we take our places at the table, where Mother has prepared a lovely spread of fresh berry preserves with her homemade bread and butter, some roasted chicken from the butcher, and some fresh herbs and spices from our garden to season it with. The tomatoes are starting to sprout this time of year, but they won’t be ripe for a while yet. She places a pitcher of water on the table, with another small jug of milk next to it - freshly gleaned from Bessie the cow this afternoon. I’ve always looked up to my mother, and the way that she always managed to put together a positively lovely meal no matter what was in season at the time.

  I’m about to reach for the jug of milk when Father emerges from the doorway in an obvious huff. His shoulders are squared upon his back as his hands are jammed firmly into his pockets.

  “Welcome home, Ezekial. Everything all right?” Mother gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek as Fae winces. Father nods his head but still appears displeased.

  “I’m just fine, Hopestill. Just another day in the field with a bum knee, is all.” He rubs his left knee gingerly, as he tries to nurse the injury from a couple months ago that still has not completely healed.

  “I’ll get you some hemp root for the pain. Children, please settle yourselves at the table.” Mother disappears behind the curtain separating our home stash of apothecary goods, and emerged with a small jar with a brownish-green scrub in it. “This should help ease the pain. Here you are.” Mother stoops down to gently roll up my father’s left pant leg to apply the healing balm.

  “Oh, that is wonderful. Thank you, my love.” Father smiles at Mother as sh
e stands back up, straightens her bonnet, and sits back down at her place setting.

  “I was hoping it would work - and I’m so glad that it did. I had gone to ask Rafaela about it, and she made a special blend, just for you.”

  Father smiles, but seems to withhold any outright praise. “She may be talented at her work, but she is still quite… eccentric.” He wrinkles his nose, and then reaches for the plate of chicken that Mother had prepared, but she quickly swats his hand away.

  “We have yet to thank the Lord for the meal, Ezekial…” She quickly folds her hands and bows her head, as the rest of us follow suit. Father clears his throat loudly and then says our grace.

  “Dear Lord, we thank you greatly for this bountiful meal, and for protection as we all went about our daily tasks. Please bless us as we partake in this nourishment, and grant us strength and diligence in all that we try to accomplish. In Your holy name, Amen.”

  Our echoes of “Amen” fill the main room of our house, and then we all reach for the food, this time without being swatted away by Mother. She exchanges a brief knowing glance with Father as Fae and I unceremoniously fill our mouths with food. Even baby Jedidiah seems to be quite enamored with the relatively unappetizing mush of tender chicken and fresh fruit that Mother laid out in front of him.

  “Constance, there is a matter that involves you that your mother and I wish to speak to you about.”

  Oh goodness, not here, not now!

  ✷✷✷

  “I followed her home, she appears to be eating a meal with her family at the moment.” Griffin speaks quietly into his communicator as quietly as possible.

  “Excellent. Keep watching. There really is no real way to be sure about the moment, but I have every confidence in you that you’ll know when you see it.” Evander’s voice replies back to him at an equally quiet volume - yet another safety feature that Evander managed to install to retain as much secrecy as possible. “Also, do make sure you are not detected by anyone. If you are hungry, there are ample gardens around that you may be able to pick from. And based on your geographical location, there are many haystacks around - that should be suitable coverage and a comfortable place to sleep for you.”