LJ Idol Week 10: “If you are here to help me, you’re wasting our time.”*
There’s No Place Like Home
“You will be taken to the court of the Sidhe to stand trial for your crimes.”
The sound of the knives hitting the weather-beaten floorboards snaps her back into the moment. The music from the jukebox comes next and then the cracking sound of the balls on the pool table. Mel has to blink a few times to see clearly and nearly drops the stack of plates balanced on her left arm. She lowers them onto the nearest table and scoops up the silverware that had fallen. She looks up to see Holly, the other waitress, looking at her from across the room while pouring coffee for a couple of seniors wearing fanny packs and conspiring over a map spread out on their table.
Taking a few deep breathes Mel starts to dump the plates and silverware into a grey bus bin and worries with the locket she wears around her neck. Calli. The name echoes through her head and she lets out a frustrated sigh.
“You alright?” Holly asks coming up behind her.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You need me to do anything?”
“Well Free Mustache Rides is whining for more ketchup,” Holly whispers with a grin pointing in the direction of the man in the trucker cap featuring the slogan and a pretty impressive horseshoe mustache.
“Dude,” Mel chuckles.
Holly winks at her and heads back toward the kitchen taking the bus bin with her.
Mel tries pushing her anxiety away. It’s been so long since she’s had a vision of inevitable future events that she’d almost forgotten how quickly it could happen and how hard it could be to shake it off.
She tries to take comfort in her surroundings. She genuinely enjoys working at The Greasy Spoon Roadside Café. It mostly serves truckers and tourists stopping off the highway, people who are just passing through. Mel likes it that way. Holly is really the only friend she’s made in town besides Eddie the cook and Myrtle her eccentric neighbor at the nearby trailer park.
It feels like home now even though it’s vastly different than where she grew up. From the various state license plates on the walls to the old cigarette burns on the cracked Formica table tops, she loves it. She feels safe here. She forgets to throw salt over her shoulder or step over cracks. She forgets that dropping a knife portends a male visitor.
*
Three hours later Holly turns the sign on the front door to Closed and they begin to sweep up and wipe down the tables. Eddie waves to them on his way out the back door carrying a large trash bag to the dumpster leaving Mel and Holly alone in the diner.
“I’ll finish up you go on,” Mel says.
“Are you sure?” Holly asks untying her apron.
“You go ahead, enjoy your day off tomorrow.”
“Really? That’s great because Frankie wants to take me to the drive in tonight. I’ll see ya Mel.”
Mel just nods and smiles as she follows Holly to the door. She turns the deadbolt then watches through the window as Holly, lit by the single flood light on the side of the building, climbs into her old blue and white F-150 and drives off, kicking up dust in her wake.
Mel moves away from the door. She pulls a few one dollar bills from the tips in her apron pocket. She feeds them into the jukebox; presses buttons.
She knows he’s there before turning around and doesn’t even bother questioning how he got in.
When she finally turns to look, for just a second, she can see through his glamour; the grey eyes and sharply pointed ears under his human disguise, the hair though…the hair is real.
“You’ve cut your hair Ecanus,” Mel voices her thoughts.
He almost looks surprised that she’s recognized him but he recovers quickly and runs his fingers through the short dark spikes. “Yes, well despite what the Elders would wish us believe it will grow back.”
“You’re quite the rebel these days then,” She teases.
“Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.” He teases back. He sits on a stool and rests an elbow on the counter.
She steps behind the counter and pulls two bottles of beer from the refrigerator uncapping them both with the bottle opener nailed to the wall before sliding one down the counter.
“Not quite as good as your father’s mead but it does the trick” She says.
Ecanus smiles and it’s just as beautiful as she remembers.
“It is good to see you Malahidael.” He says.
“It’s just Mel now.”
Ecanus nods. Names are important. Names give you power. She’s Mel now. Malahidael Blackthorn was left behind in a castle bedchamber two years ago, the same night Calliel Blackthorn was murdered in her bed.
“It suits you, the hair,” Mel states bringing her bottle to her lips.
“All of this seems to be suiting you.” He motions to the room around them. She wonders for a moment how long he’d been watching her before he’d revealed himself tonight.
“I feel like I belong here. More than I ever did back there.”
“You never wanted to fit in there.”
“It was never a matter of not wanting to. The Elders have everyone brainwashed.”
“It’s called tradition.”
It’s an old argument. The pages of the script worn thin.
“You’re not here to talk politics Ecanus. So why are you here? Why now?”
He sips slowly from his bottle. “We were friends once…Mel.”
She laughs, “I’m not sure spending many a Beltane season pleasuring each other’s bodies really makes us friends.”
“Wow, for all the time you’ve spent hiding amongst the humans they haven’t really rubbed off on you have they?”
She realizes she’s offended him and she’s surprised. “You’re being sentimental. How very un-Fae of you.”
He shrugs. “You are the one who wanted things to change. You were the leader of the revolutionaries for heaven’s sake.”
“I never meant to be a leader of anything. The High Court is corrupt and my father was deceived. I stood up for what I thought was right. I wasn’t trying to bring down the entire Realm.”
“But you did.” He pauses. “Did you ever consider that I loved you?”
She snorts. “The Fae don’t love. They just don’t.” She looks away indignant.
“Is that what you truly believe?” He asks reaching a hand over the counter to tap gently on the locket hanging just below the hollow of her throat.
“Keep my sister out of this,” she says softly taking a step back.
He lowers his hand back to the counter.
“You’ve changed.” He says just as softly.
“Have I? I suppose being a fugitive does that to a person.”
“You can lie to me; you have every reason not to trust me, but don’t lie to yourself.”
Suddenly it’s her earlier premonition beginning again. She can feel it happening like a film reel having been rewound and started over. They’ve come for her. This time it’s real. She lands her bottle on the counter with a too loud thunk and looks around.
“What? What is it?” Ecanus asks startled.
“You should go,” She says. “I don’t want you here to see this. Not again.”
“You still have it don’t you? The gift of sight?” He’s searching her face for something but she doesn’t have an answer. If it was a gift then maybe Calliel would still be alive. She steps around the counter and takes a deep breath. She’s not powerful enough to fight and it’s too late to run.
“If you knew why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you run Mel?” Ecanus asks taking her by the shoulders.
She looks at him, wondering if he’s read her thoughts, wondering if he knows the truth about what happened that night in her sister’s room.
“Why do you care? You led them here,” She says breathlessly.
“Always the smart one Malahidael,” a deeper voice chimes in before Ecanus can answer.
The owner of the voice emerges from the kitchen. The tall Fae hasn’t even bothered with a glamour. He’s wearing the long purple coat of his station and is followed by two younger Fae dressed in blue.
Mel has nothing but contempt for her old rival even if she isn’t at all surprised to see him. “Well Raguel aren’t you moving up in the world, Head of the Kings Guard now?” She says.
A corner of his mouth turns up at her sarcasm and she wants to lash out at him but her magic is rusty from disuse. She would only make it worse for herself if she tried. She knows they’d rather bring her back alive but Raguel wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if given the slightest justification.
Ecanus still has a hand on her arm and it tightens as Raguel steps closer and again she has to wonder if Ecanus has developed his own “Gift” of Transference instead of Prophecy.
Raguel removes one of his gloves and runs a finger along the counter top. “The Greasy Spoon. You know there’s something to be said for too much truth in advertising my dear.”
“Fuck you.” She says low but with a fierceness that makes Ecanus gasp and release his hold on her.
Raguel makes a tsking sound and shakes his head. “My my look what two years pretending to be human has made of you. Sorry I had to cut the reunion short but it’s time to go. You’ll be rewarded well for your assistance Ecanus Hazelwood.” Raguel waves his hand towards her and the two guards move to grab her.
She cries out as they each take one of her arms. “Why Ecanus? What do they have on you?”
He’s gone pale and although his eyes never leave hers Mel knows he can’t tell her. He’s afraid. She’s never seen him afraid. One of the reasons she picked him as a mate was his unflinching courage in the face of her father’s disapproval.
Mel continues to protest, struggling against her captors. “You can’t let them take me back, they’ll kill me.”
Raguel snaps his fingers and the iron cuffs hanging from his belt are placed around her wrists and she suddenly feels so weak she nearly falls to her knees but is kept on her feet by the two guards.
“Malahidael Blackthorn daughter of King Oberon the Third you are bound by the law of the Realm for acts of sedition and the murder of Calliel Blackthorn. You will be taken to The Court of the Sidhe to stand trial for your crimes.” Raguel announces.
“You-you have no right to-to bind me so.” It comes out slurred and she feels tears of exasperation pricking her eyes.
“I have every right, Princess.” He taunts her with the title she no longer wishes to answer to. “Now just relax and enjoy the trip home.”
“No. No!” Her voice is shaking; the iron restraints making her feel like she can’t catch her breath.
Raguel moves a hand to touch her temple and she doesn’t even have time to flinch before she feels herself drifting into unconsciousness.
Her last thought before everything fades to black is how sad she is that she’ll never see the diner again and how long they’ll wonder what happened to her.
AN: Feedback appreciated. I know it’s way too long. I kept it ambiguous whether she was truly guilty or not and I wonder if it works or not. I may have to revisit these characters again someday.
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* “If you've come here to help me, you're wasting your time. But if you've come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”
A quote by Australian Aboriginal Elder Lilla Watson