Chapter Fifteen: Sleeping Beauty

“…And this hallway contains both your room and mine, conveniently right next to each other. I don’t want you sneaking off or anything, do I?” He winked. “Besides, I might get thirsty in the night.” He led me into yet another room; it was a fairly large one, furnished nicely—if sparingly—but I wasn’t paying attention to that: I was focused on the giant falcon in the corner.

Standing on a perch with not so much as a piece of thread to keep it there was one of the biggest raptors—a gyrfalcon, I guessed—I’d ever seen. Zane immediately gestured to this falcon and said, with a hint of pride in his voice, “This is Meallán, my gyrfalcon.”

“Why isn’t he tethered?” I inquired.

Zane just shrugged. “He won’t go anywhere; he’s already been trained, unlike certain people in this room.” He grinned down at me, then added, “But I’ll get around to you in no time.”
I felt a shiver rack my spine again as Zane made some strange clicking noises in the back of his throat; the shiver turned into pure terror as the gyrfalcon—Meallán—shot off of his perch, wings flapping frantically, and rocketed right toward me.

His talons were stretched out in front of him, and I wanted to retreat, but I found that I was held in place by my own body, which was frozen with fear. So I simply closed my eyes and hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much, when suddenly I felt a bit of breeze, followed by a weight on my shoulder and the feeling of something sharp poking gently through my hair.

“He wouldn’t hurt you,” Zane said; I could hear the smirk in his voice. “And as for his beak in your hair, that’s how he gets to know who people are. He’s taking in your scent right now, and relating it to some various things that even I don’t know about. From now on, he’ll know you’re allowed in here, and won’t attack you unless I tell him to.”

Hesitantly, I opened my eyes to find that Zane was, in fact, watching me with a smirk on his face, and that Meallán was perched on my shoulder, and still poking through my hair. After a few more seconds, he put his head back up and abruptly flew over to Zane’s shoulder.

“Well, this sucks,” Zane said. “Here I am, with a pretty girl who has to do whatever I say, and is locked in my room, and I don’t know what to make you do. I mean, there’re limitless possibilities, and I’m completely clueless. And it’s not like I could ask you for suggestions or anything.”

I simply rolled my eyes and watched as Meallán flew back over to his perch and preened himself; Zane just brushed a feather off his shoulder and sat down on the edge of his bed, looking thoughtful for a short time before shrugging.

“Well, you are a maid,” he said, “so I guess I’ll put you to work. The bathroom needs cleaning—toilet, floors, sinks, the works—and this whole room needs dusting.”

After staring at him in disbelief for probably 5 full minutes, I turned and silently walked out of the room, got some supplies from my bag in the hallway, and headed to the bathroom. Still stoic, I got onto my hands and knees and began to scrub.

And scrub, and scrub, and scrub.

After ages and ages of scrubbing, I finally stood up, out of breath, and saw a sparkling clean bathroom. I then staggered out into the hallway and painstakingly replaced all the bits and pieces to where they’d been before. When I finally returned to Zane’s room, my knees and hands ached, and I had a slight headache from the fluorescent lighting.

But of course, Zane was armed with a duster when I walked in, and promptly—and with a cheery smile—handed it to me.

And so I dusted his room, and a few other rooms; and imagine my disgust when, after all that dusting, Zane greeted me by spilling his soda on the floor and immediately telling me to scrub the floor until you could no longer see the stain that marred it.

By this time, of course, my knees and hands were throbbing with pain, as well as my elbows, neck, and back, and I was generally exhausted beyond belief. I just wanted to go curl up in my own bed and have a good night’s rest. But instead I scrubbed Zane’s floor until, indeed, you could no longer see the stain.

Following which, I was asked to alphabetize his bookshelf.

Quietly cursing Zane’s name, I turned to do so, almost falling asleep at the tedious work, but finally finishing after what seemed to be an eternity of work. By now, my whole body ached, and I was about to just fall over on the floor and pass out. But nonetheless I stumbled back to Zane’s room, and was extremely relieved when he said, “No more hard work for today.”

My heart sank again, though, when he continued: “Instead, you get the honor of hanging out with me for the night.”

At my crestfallen face, he insisted, “Oh, don’t be that way. It’ll be fun; we’ll watch some movies, talk a while, maybe make some cookies or something…just hang out, get to know each other. After all, we’re going to be spending a lot of time with each other from now on.”

“Do I get a choice?” I asked. “’Cause if I do, my answer’s no.”

Zane shrugged. “In that case, no, you don’t get a choice,” he answered matter-of-factly, then grabbed me swiftly around the waist and effortlessly lifted me up and over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes.

He then carried me over to a couch and set me down. He slid himself down next to me, slinging his arm casually over my shoulders, but I could tell that he would tighten his grip if I tried to run for it. Then he grabbed a remote and flipped on the TV, channel-surfing for a while, until he reached a channel that was playing The Princess Bride.

“Perfect,” he said, without a trace of sarcasm, “a love story with swordfights, perfect for boys and girls alike. Have you seen it before?”

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding me? It’s a classic, for God’s sake! Of course I’ve seen it before. It’s one of the best movies of all time, and Westley is the original—and much better, might I add—Edward Cullen. Except he’s also a ‘pirate’ and a swordfighter and all that.”

I quickly clamped my mouth shut, having not meant to say that much, but Zane just grinned good-naturedly and turned up the volume, also tightening his grip and tugging me in a little closer to him. His grin turned into a smirk as he leaned his head on top of mine.

“Could you not?” I asked. “I may be single, but you’re so not my type.”

Rather than responding, he just cackled evilly and turned the volume up a little more. “Just watch the movie,” he finally said. “It’s just starting, I think…”

Before I knew it, I was free of Zane’s clutches, free of the freaking dress, free of everything, and spending my hours with Westley and Inigo Montoya, who I’d prefer any day to Zane. But before long, I felt my eyelids growing heavy, my breath slowing, and—to my horror, and his intense glee and amusement—my body slipping a little into his grip.

My eyes snapped open so that I could glare at him, and I shoved away. He shrugged nonchalantly and went back to the movie. I couldn't help but notice, though, the mischievous glint in his eyes.

I tried my best to remain alert, but it wasn’t long at all before I found myself drifting off again. Zane took the opportunity to sling his arm casually over my shoulders again, which woke me up immediately. I shot him a scathing look and grabbed his arm, throwing it at his own lap.

“Would you lay off?” I snapped, gesturing at his arm. “Seriously.”

Being Zane, he unflappably replied, “No,” and drape his arm yet again over my shoulders.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “What if I said that maybe—maybe—I’d kiss you willingly someday later, if you laid off with the arm thing, and maybe showed me to my room?”
Zane looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, “I would say ‘Great,’ but who needs willing when I could just make you do it any time?” To accentuate his point, he leaned over and brushed my forehead with his lips, tightening his grip when I struggled.

Then he chuckled softly—and almost predator-like sound—and loosened his grip once more, straightening and turning back to the almost-forgotten movie.

“Fine, I’ll just find my own room,” I grumbled, stood—which made his arm fall off—and began walking towards the only visible door.

He grabbed my waist and stood up with me, purring, “How about I show you and then take a bit of payment for it?” He took a few steps forward so that he was even with me, one arm still around my waist, and looked amusedly down at me; I noticed that his sandy blonde hair fell attractively in his face, obscuring part of his crooked smirk.

Although my heart had admittedly sped up, I muttered, “No thanks,” and walked hurriedly out the door, taking a right, then a left, then another right, without thinking. Within a few minutes, I was hopelessly lost—and I knew it.

Feeling a little desperate, I opened the door in front of me, to find…nothing. I then took a few steadying breaths and opened the next door down—still nothing—then the door after that, and the door after that. When I finally found something, it was the last something I’d been hoping to see.

That something was Zane, who was lounging on the bed. I felt a foreboding sense in my stomach the moment the leer crept onto his face, and that sense was justified when he shifted a little to the side and asked, with a perfectly straight face, “Care to join me?”

Chapter Fourteen: Disgust

Our conversation continued aimlessly after that, and we only left the room when we noticed the light from the window getting dimmer—the sun was setting already.

Jared stood in the doorway of the girls’ room and waved jauntily as I slid into my bed, which was right next to Kaliyan’s. “Get a good night’s sleep,” he advised. “You’ll most likely need it tomorrow—they always work you hardest in the beginning.”

“Thanks for the good news,” I muttered; he laughed and quietly closed the door. I stared up at the ceiling for a while, thinking about the people, the situation, being a maid, and basically my day in general before falling suddenly into a relatively deep and dreamless sleep.
-----
When I awoke, I noticed that there was a neatly folded dress at the edge of my bed. I grimaced—having been a tomboy all my life, I hated dresses or skirts of any kind—and lifted it into the air.

It was even worse than I’d first imagined.

With puffy sleeves and a slightly ruffled skirt that came to about an inch above where my knee would be, it was my worst nightmare, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that its trim was a light pink color; there was also a pink breast-piece. But, of course, I would probably get in trouble if I didn’t wear it—according to Chaska’s lie on the first day—so I reluctantly slipped it over my head.

Just as I had tied the matching pink bow into my ponytail, there was a knock on the door. “You can come in,” I said, having realized that no one else was there but Kaliyan, who was still fast asleep.

The door swung open to reveal a girl that couldn’t have been much older than me; she was possibly 17 or 18. She donned the same dress as I was, but her trim was a light powder blue instead of pink. “I’m Christine, and I’ll be your trainer today. You’ll be learning the general duties of a household maid, and be assigned to either a wing, room, area, or a specific person or group of people.”

Kaliyan chose that moment to sit up and rub her eyes blearily; Christine glanced over at her, sending her long black ponytail swinging into my face. While I made a grossed-out face, Kaliyan was sent into the storage room to change. Christine did not look happy.

“Wake up on time, please, and have your uniform on, teeth and hair brushed, hair in either a bun or a ponytail, and shoes and socks on and fastened,” she instructed, pointing to a pair of flat Mary Janes that was at the foot of my bed. I quickly sat and pulled them on.

Christine, when Kaliyan had emerged in her uniform, proceeded to lead each of us to a separate large room, and told us to dust, sweep, polish, etc., all of the surfaces and leave the room spotless. I went as quickly as I could, trying to ignore the fact that I was wearing a freaking dress, and when I finished, I went outside to see Christine waiting for me.

Looking slightly surprised and a little suspicious, she headed into my room and performed the white glove test on—I swear—every item in there. Finally, when she was satisfied, she nodded curtly and told me to wait in the hallway until Kaliyan was done, which only took about a minute.

“Please tell me someone’s going to save us soon,” Kaliyan muttered under her breath as we went from those rooms to what seemed to be an office. “I couldn’t stand being a maid.”

I shook my head. “I can’t stand these dresses.”

“Of course you can’t. You’ve always hated dresses, even the really cute ones. You always swore you were going to wear pants to prom, although I still don’t believe you.”

Rolling my eyes, I watched as Christine walked up to the desk and began speaking to the woman behind it in rapid Portuguese. The lady, after checking a file, nodded briskly, and said a name that sent a rack of fear down my spine: Zane, then a last name I’d never heard before: Faulkenrath.

“Sounds like him,” I mumbled to Kaliyan, careful to keep my voice very low. “It sounds dark and dangerous and disgusting.”

Kaliyan frowned. “I still don’t know who he is.”

Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Christine turned back towards us and said, in an authoritative voice, “Emily, you will be with Zane Faulkenrath; Kaliyan, you will be attending to the southwest hallway and its residents. Mr. Faulkenrath can be found in his quarters at the end of the northeast hallway. Your shifts begin in 5 minutes, and end 3 hours after they begin. You are dismissed.”

My best friend and I exchanged a glance, then walked out the door and in our separate directions—no doubt that was on purpose, as well as my assignment to Zane.

Why did I have to end up with him, of all people? I wondered as I made my way to his living quarters. I’ll be serving Zane. I’ll have to do whatever he says, or I’ll get into huge trouble, I then added miserably. This will definitely be horrible.

I knocked on the door with “Faulkenrath” written on it, hoping against hope that it was the wrong one—surely enough, though, it was Zane who answered the door, with his trademark leer. “You’re early,” he commented. “Are you really that excited to see me?”

“Hardly,” I replied, my tone curt.

Zane shook his finger at me, and said, “Now, now, don’t be that way. I’m your new boss, you know. You have to do whatever I want, or my boss will beat you up. Now, I know you want to be fired, so I’ve made it very clear that that’s not to happen—you’ll remain my maid until I say otherwise.”

He paused for a moment and tapped his chin, seemingly thinking hard, then said hurriedly, “I’m sorry, I almost forgot: these are my living quarters, which are also yours for the next few weeks. I’ve arranged your full-time stay here. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, it’s fantastic,” I said sarcastically.

Zane grinned. “Well, please allow me to show you around,” he requested, then grabbed my arm and tugged me inside, closing the door swiftly behind me.

And, of course, I could hardly miss the telltale click that followed.

Chapter Thirteen: Bluejay Feathers

El Author's Note: Just so you know: No, Jared's nickname isn't from Inkspell. That was an accident, and I laughed when I read about someone with the same nickname. Also, that weird language that infested my real blog has come over here. The title is just "Chapter Thirteen", in case it became the language. I'm typing this in HTML mode. Anyway, enjoy the story.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, slightly sarcastically.

He grinned, still looking slightly uncertain. “Well, we, um, got hired,” he said. “As you can probably tell. But, you know…”

I nodded. “Thanks great,” I said, trying my best to sound cheery. “It’s too bad that…” I faked a coughing fit so I could think of the false name that Kaliyan had given Skylar, “Um, too bad that Bandit ran off. I should probably talk to Mr. Donovan to see if I still got the job.”

There was a light tap on the door before it swung open, revealing a very weary-looking Kaliyan, whose face brightened when she saw me. “You were gone for a while,” she commented. “What…how far did Bandit go, anyway?”

I shrugged. “I tripped a few times—you know how much of a klutz I can be—but he came back eventually, with a dead rabbit in his mouth.” I rolled my eyes. “Silly dog.”

The other boy in the room looked confusedly from me to Felix, but finally just turned back to Felix and began whispering; the young Brazilian boys both looked very serious, and both kept glancing at me from time to time as they talked.

Finally, slightly impatient, I cleared my throat. “So, did I get the job or what?” I asked Kaliyan, who was still leaning uncertainly against the wall, spacing off.

She looked up quickly and answered, “I think so. We didn’t really get interviewed or anything, just kind of got sent off to the rooms. These’re just for our age group, by the way. The ages go from, like, 7 to about 40-something. I mean, a couple 7-year-old boys ran across the hallway groaning that they were late for field work. Little boys doing field work! Isn’t that insane?”

Nodding, I headed out into the hallway to have a look around, and was more than a little surprised when Chaska followed me out. He bit his lip, as if considering something, then held a hand out to me, from which was dangling none other than my backpack, looking worn.

I took it, muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and dashed off down the hall, indeed running into a few younger children in my travels. I was thinking long and hard about Chaska, and wondering where his allegiances lay. He worked for Mr. Donovan, but he’d also helped me. Was he a spy, or did he really care?

Maybe he’s neither, I thought, just curious about me. I mean, I’m an outsider that he’s never seen before, and I got knocked out…so maybe—

Suddenly, the breath was knocked out of me as I walked straight into a boy who looked quite as preoccupied as I’m sure I must have. As well as dusty brown eyes, he had thrillingly blue hair, which momentarily caught me off guard as I stumbled and fell backwards, both from the collision and from his shocking appearance.

He blushed profusely and apologized, then gallantly offered his hand, which I accepted with an embarrassed smile.

He seemed to get over his embarrassment quickly, though, as he gave a lopsided grin and introduced himself as Jared. “Nice to see someone pale around here,” he commented, nodding at my almost paper-white skin, which was splashed—more like infested—with freckles.

I grinned right back. “I definitely second that,” I said, then glanced up at his hair. “Is that your natural hair color?” I questioned jokingly, and was more than a little surprised when he nodded seriously and gingerly touched his slightly spiked locks.

“Yeah, actually,” he said, shrugging. “I have a rare disease that causes my hair to be blue. I could never remember the whole name, but there’re only 2 or 3 people who have it.”

My mouth dropped. “Really? Does it affect anything else?”

He shook his head. “Nope, it’s just the hair. All over my body, so when I have facial hair, it’ll be blue as well. Pretty insane, eh?”

I nodded and replied, “I’ve never heard of such a thing before.”

“That’s ‘cause there is no such thing,” Jared said, the lopsided grin coming back, slightly mocking, but in a friendly way. “You totally fell for that,” the blue-haired boy gasped through his sudden burst of laughter, leaning against one of the adobe walls.

With a roll of my eyes, I said, “I sure did; you’re a good liar, Bluejay. So where’re you from?”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Bluejay?”’

“Yeah, Bluejay. Your name’s Jared, and Jared starts with a J, and your hair is blue. What, don’t you like your new nickname?” I fake-pouted.

“Sure I like it. And I’m from the States, actually. I’m just here for the summer to visit some people, and I wanted to make a few cents. So I came here. But…” He suddenly grabbed my arm, and beckoned me into one of the empty rooms that lined the hallway. Then he looked seriously into my eyes—this time it really was serious, I could tell—and whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

I nodded; my heart was pounding. Maybe Jared had a clue about the veneno powder that could help me get Skylar back to normal again.

But I was disappointed in that aspect—but very pleased overall with what he said next: “The plants they grow here, they’re called ‘poison’ in the local tongue, and…well, there’re people with ESP and all that stuff, for real.” He checked my face for any sign of my not believing him, but my expression was instead a very sardonic one. “What?”

“It’s just…I have ESP, I guess you could say. I’m precognitive.” At his slightly shocked look, I continued. “I see the future in my dreams, usually conversations or that sort of thing. A few of my friends have ESP too; I know a telepath, a psychometric, and a couple clairvoyants.” He finally nodded, still looking lost. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, I thought to myself, smiling. “Anyway, keep going.”

By now, Jared’s mouth was hanging way open, and it was a few seconds before he closed it partly and responded, “Wow. I’ve met my match, I guess. I’m retrocognitive, actually, also by way of dreams. I’ve never met anyone else with ESP before. Nice to meet you…um…”

It was then that I realized that I hadn’t given him my name. “I’m Emily,” I said, grinning, “and jealous that your talent can be put to use at school.”

Jared laughed, running a hand through his azure hair. “Yeah, well, yours is cooler. I don’t really like being retrocognitive much, actually. It’s not much use knowing about some old man who died a hundred years ago or something.”

“I guess that’s true,” I said. “Lots of retrocognitive people are mediums too…maybe you’ll develop medium abilities later. That’d make it a lot cooler, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, it would make it cooler,” Jared answered, then quickly resumed speaking. “Anyway, people with ESP can obviously stop having ESP as they get older. Most people lose their ESP by about the time they enter school, if not before so. Most people with ESP, once they enter middle or late adolescence, experience either the rapid growth, or disappearance, of their powers. Most often, of course, it’s the disappearance that goes into effect, but sometimes people sustain the ESP.

“Those who do usually go onto great careers, preferring to make themselves extremely well-known and use their powers often, which causes them to go extremely insane, or show signs of growing old in, say, their 40s or 50s. Sometimes earlier.”

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, that’s got nothing to do with anything. What I mean to say is, the plant’s powder is basically a damper for ESP, and it’s really powerful. I haven’t seen a thing since I came here…but they say it wears off at some point, like a few years.”

“No crap,” I responded sarcastically. “That’s not hard to figure out with a little research. That’s why I’m here, actually; one of my friends is having a few problems. But there’s actually an instant—we hope—cure for it, which isn’t proven quite yet, but we got word from a reliable source that it was effective, so…you know, we’ve got high expectations.”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Who’s ‘we’?” he asked shortly.

“My friends and I. My best friend Kaliyan, the telepath, Felix, a kid I met in Manaus, and Skylar, who’s…a really long story.” I shrugged.

“We’ve got plenty of time.”

I sighed, knowing that there was probably no way out of the conversation. “He’s just some kid I met a while ago, didn’t see for a really long time, and just met again a few days ago, that’s all. He’s…different. Even more so than you and me,” I said hurriedly, trying to avoid talking about it too much, while giving some of the information so that Jared might refrain from questioning me.

Jared himself, however, just slowly slid down the nearby wall and to the ground, staring straight ahead of him and looking slightly lost. “He’s the dog,” he said flatly, and at first I was slightly offended that he referred to Skylar like that, but then realized that he meant that Skylar had been acting as my guide dog, and nodded firmly in way of response.

“Yeah. He somehow got some of the poison on him, I guess, and now he’s stuck in wolf form,” I explained, “which is why we came here. I think I’m losing my psychic abilities, too, but it’s slowly, like I haven’t had much contact with it or something…I don’t know.”

Jared, made somber by the topic, shook his head dejectedly. “No one knows anything these days.”