Authors: Cyndy Aleo
She ducks her head into his shoulder, hiding the fear she knows will show on her face, but she nods. How could she refuse him?
21: Preparation
She wonders if his powers have become greater than she and her sisters could have imagined. Perhaps this is what they have always known, what they have feared from the very beginning of time, and why all the males were killed.
She stops for a moment to decide whether or not she should fear her own son.
Idly, she searches airlines using online tools. Normally, this should be Jakub's job. He is the Internet expert, but he is on the couch in the family room with Donovan again, whispering into her ear and stroking her hair, trying to soothe her.
Donovan is having what Grace supposes must be a panic attack: her breathing uneven, her heartbeat racing. Tears fall from the girl's eyes though she doesn't realize it. Grace has come to care for Donovan, but seeing her fall to pieces like this confirms what she’d guessed: that the brash exterior hid someone without much self-confidence. It also serves to convince her that they should not be bringing her along. She will be nothing more than a distraction when they need one the least.
Still, she keys in the option for three adults on every travel site, looking for seats on flights leaving the next day. Jakub has forbidden her from buying first class seats, saying they will be too conspicuous, especially with Grace's height and unnatural movement.
Instead, she will be forced into cramped coach seats, prowling the aisles like a caged jungle cat. With some luck, perhaps she will have a blood clot like a human and die instantly on the plane when it reached her lungs, gasping for air like the human girl on the couch.
“I hear your thoughts,
Matka
,
”
Jakub says under his breath. “They are both unkind and unlike you. We have turned her world upside down in under 12 hours. Can you say you felt differently when you fled the forest and entered the human world all those years ago?”
She jumps in her seat at his words. While she and her sisters often sensed each others' moods, they had never in her memory been privy to each others' thoughts. How violating it feels to have someone access your very being in such a way.
“I wasn't trying to hear you,
”
he continues. “You were just thinking those things very loudly, and I couldn't help but hear them, shouted as they were. It's important to me that she be there. Please try to remember what it was like to learn that nothing is as you know it to be and give her some time.”
Grace returns to her task, keying in airport codes and focusing on nothing more than inhaling and exhaling. Eventually, his words creep back into her thoughts and it becomes clear that his concern is primarily for Donovan.
He made no note of Grace’s fears of his power, nor her contemplation of the reasoning behind the old ways. Just as he wants her to give Donovan time to process all that has changed, so is he giving her that same privilege. The lesson is not lost on her.
“There is a very inexpensive flight,
”
she says quietly, hoping he can hear her, “but the return trip comes through Ottawa with many stops.”
“It's fine,
”
he says. “Book that one. We won't be returning.”
Grace has already carefully entered the credit card information and taken down the confirmation number before she truly hears the last part of what he says. How can he say they will not be returning? Surely he does not mean to live there? In the forest? In Poland?
“The visas …”
“We have no need of visas,
”
he says. “It’s my home. You’ll see. What time will we leave?”
“The flight departs at ten before six. We arrive in Kraków around half-past eight the next morning.”
“
Dziękuje bardzo, matka
. If you'll excuse us, Donovan is sleeping, and I'd like to take her upstairs.
“Pack —
”
He has carried the girl to the doorway of the kitchen, and he hesitates there. "Pack what you think you’ll need for a while. We'll close up the house for a time, but I'm sure you'll want to come back to see to your plants, eventually.”
Grace watches him walk away, then listens to his careful footsteps on the stairs. He's so gentle with the girl and so careless with her. She should see to packing, but she goes instead to the glass door to her greenhouse. It's there, among her plants, the only things she truly understands anymore, where she finally breaks down.
~
Perhaps Edyta should be allowed to have the power she so clearly desires.
Matka
knows it would be easier on Bożena if she did. Then Bożena could sit back, relax, float in the pond, sneak out to see Tadeusz, and be done with the lot of them.
She’d told them she thought it best to wait, to see if he and his traitorous mother returned here as the stories have foretold. Edyta argued that they should be doing more to keep the prophesied occurrence from happening in the first place.
She reminded Edyta that they would be conspicuous traveling again. That a large group of overly tall women who looked uncomfortable in clothing would have to pile into a cramped metal tube to get there.
Edyta argued that the very existence of their race was at stake, and humans could stare all they liked.
Bożena pointed out that Grażyna and her son would be more at home in their own environment, that they were more familiar with how humans live in ways the sisters are not, and never will be.
Edyta argued that they should strike where they live, where they may have their guard down, rather than let them come in on the offensive.
Bożena at this point has given up. She’s made noises about sending one of the younger sisters out to make arrangements, to find out how much of their seldom-used money will be necessary to travel. She asks another sister to take a poll, to see which sisters will want to go, and which will want to stay.
And if she keeps the thoughts to herself that she’s doing nothing more but stalling for time, to allow Grażyna the time to get here, to give her and her son the best chance at survival, well, that’s no one else’s business. Edyta will only argue about that as well.
She can no longer differentiate between up and down, reality and dream. She exists in a state of with him or without him, touching him or separated from him. Vague recollections stir in her consciousness that give her somewhat of an idea where she is in time and space: He’s touching her hair; he’s gone, but his scent remains on a pillow; he’s holding her in his arms and asking her questions while someone else holds up pieces of her clothing.
She’s supposed to be deciding on something — the clothes?
—
but she isn’t sure what. She tries with nods and shakes of her head to do what he asks, but she feels — no, she knows — she’s letting him down. She’s failing before she even begins.
There’s a large, white space and questions she answers yes and no to like an automaton. She knows the answers and can recite them by rote; in some time and place she has answered them before. She takes small comfort in their familiarity.
Then there’s a podium and a woman in a uniform who takes things out of her hand and hands them back though she’s not sure where they came from in the first place. More people ask her to hand things over: her laptop, her phone, her shoes, her belt. She raises her hands and walks and stands on command: a puppet walking, standing, sitting. They pat her down, run a wand over her face and nod knowingly before telling her she can move on.
Finally, he’s next to her again, and his arms are around her, and his lips are in her hair. He guides her gently, carefully, like she’s spun glass, to a seat, carrying her bag that’s growing heavier by the second along with his own.
She’s asked if she’s hungry, thirsty, does she need to use the ladies' room? But she can only shake her head. If she nods, she’s afraid he’ll leave her once again, and everything is strange and frightening when she can’t feel him and touch him.
At some point, a warm paper cup is thrust into her hands, and he urges her to sip. Warm, silky chocolate topped with cool, sweet cream meets her lips, but she gags and can’t swallow. He groans beside her, and she utters the first words she can summon in hours: “Sorry, sorry, sorry.
”
He strokes her hair and shushes her, telling her to hold the cup to warm her hands at least, and then there is a loud voice above them, and he lifts her from the seat, keeping her in his arms, and they shuffle along in a line of people. She hears the loud roar of engines and the murmur of other people, but she sees nothing, smells nothing but him, burying her face in his chest.
He nudges her along in front of him, stowing her bag and gently guiding her until she’s seated. He takes the seat next to her, fastening her seat belt as if she’s a small child. She leans as far into him as she can with a metal armrest between them, and he sings to her softly, a lullaby in a language she doesn't understand but thinks she’s heard somewhere before.
There’s a roll and a pitch and she realizes they must now be on a plane. She remembers they were supposed to be flying somewhere, but she can't remember where. Somewhere with trees, she thinks, but that can't be right, because planes can't fly into trees. He keeps singing to her, repeating the same lullaby until there’s a pinging sound, and finally, the metal bar moves and he can gather her closer to him. She feels safe like this, when she can touch more of him.
He has two names, she remembers. The name that came before is Vance, and that name wasn't safe. That name means something familiar, but it also means someone who can’t keep her safe. The name he has now is Jakub, and Jakub is powerful. Jakub loves her. Jakub will keep her safe.
She presses her lips against his neck and sleeps.
22: Homecoming
He had no idea it would feel like this, and therefore, has no thought to rein it in. Judging by the reactions of the other passengers, however, it isn't unwelcome. A few of the females appear to reach orgasm based on the sounds he hears around him. Donovan stirs and gasps at his side and his mother turns and gives him a wry smile.
Home.
Polska. Matka.
Temptation begs him to leave both his mother and Donovan right here while he runs from the plane. His forest is a mere twelve miles from Kraków; he can see it in his mind. He can run the whole way without Donovan slowing him down or holding him back. She’ll be safe with his mother. He can run there and kill all the
Dziwozony
and free his mother and return for Donovan and they’ll live here happily. All safe.
His plan — what there is of it — is foolproof. It doesn't matter how many of them there are; there could be thousands and he can slay them all. He can feel how powerful he is now with this reconnection. All he needs to do is get out of this seat. The rest of the passengers are still stunned by the power he sent through the cabin. He can be to the front of first class in no time, out the door, sprinting through the airport before anyone realizes he’s off the plane.
He unfastens his seatbelt and begins to stand. By force of his will alone, he can feel his mother making way for him, like he's commanding her to shrink back into her seat and make her six-feet-plus as small as she can so he can pass by her more easily.
And then Donovan curls her fingers into his shirt.
The movement is so subtle he almost misses it, but he feels the first knuckle of her third finger rub into his rib right near his heart. Not quite brushing his sternum, it brings a moment of discomfort that isn't quite pain, but is enough to ground him. If he didn't think she would be safe back in her own apartment, in her own life, how does he think she’ll be safe here where she knew no one? She doesn't know the language or the city, and she’ll have no idea where to go if she’s in trouble.
And he can’t rely on his mother to keep watch over her. She has enough worries of her own. And begged him not to bring Donovan with them.
He takes one deep breath, then another, and watches the passengers on the plane as they start to move, returning to their normal routines of deplaning. His mother stretches, freeing herself from the compact ball she'd contorted into, seemingly unaware of her prior actions.
How much power does he have over those around him? How much power will he have over his mother's sisters when they reach the forest?
Donovan tips her face up to his, her bleary, sleep-encrusted eyes blinking open. They focus on him, the unseeing blankness he'd seen before they left JFK vanished.
“Where are we?
”
she asks.
“We are home.”
23: Acclimation
It sounds a bit like Russian, she thinks, only with softer, more muted sounds. The name of the city is beautiful to her ears: krahk-ooph. It sounds romantic, and it might be if things weren't so unreal.
Grace is convinced she’ll die here, and probably Donovan as well. Jakub, however, is sure things will be fine, and she'd felt for herself what he was capable of when the plane touched down. Everything that had been clouding up her insides cleared out with whatever that was, and she knew other passengers had felt it as well.
Yet Grace continues to be wary as they make their way down the jetway and into the airport, her eyes shifting constantly, like she's watching for trouble around every corner, even at the baggage claim.
Donovan thinks Grace is being overly cautious; after all, she assumes most, if not all, of Grace's “sisters
”
must be as tall as she is, and Grace certainly stands out from the crowd here with her height. Still, Donovan decides she should be thankful that neither Grace nor Jakub are taking chances with their safety.
Their baggage gathered, Jakub goes out to hail a cab.
“Where are we going?
”
she asks Grace.
“
Zamek Królewski w Niepołomicach.
”
“That tells me nothing. You know I don’t understand Polish, if that’s what that was.”
“It's a hotel right near the
Puszcza Niepołomicka
.”
“That's … that's your forest, isn't it? The one you come from?”
Grace nods and lifts several bags, seeing that Jakub has been successful in flagging down a cab.
“Is he insane?”
Grace turns to face Donovan just before the door opens.
“Possibly. But at least you won't have to sleep in the forest. It's cold this time of year.”
Donovan has no choice but to follow her to the cab. Suitcases are tossed into the trunk while Jakub rattles off instructions in a stream of Polish so quickly Donovan can't even attempt to pick out sounds that might be individual words. There's no hesitation in his voice, and the driver follows along readily. She realizes it's as if Jakub has been speaking his mother tongue all along, instead of the colloquial English she's been hearing in the time she's known him.
She scoots across the backseat of the cab until she can press her face against the window. Until today, Kraków hadn't even been a blip on her radar, nor Poland, for that matter. She supposes she'd thought of it in general, in history and geography classes, but she hadn't even thought to ask Vance — Jakub — what his ancestry was.
Even with Grace's accent, it had never been a subject that came up. In her head, she guesses she'd imagined it being very cold and possibly Soviet-looking, with strange-looking Orthodox churches. What she sees, however, is a city awash in stone buildings in light colors, old mixed with new.
She should be feeling guilty; being the smallest of them, the polite thing to do would be to take the middle seat, but Jakub has done so once again, leaving his mother the side with the other window. Donovan can hear Grace’s quiet sobs and wonders how much Grace can recognize from her life here before. Trying to remember her history, Donovan realizes at least two world wars have passed through here, as well as countless changes in ruling government. Grace must be almost as much of a stranger here as she is.
Rummaging through her purse, she finds a small, unopened, plastic pack of tissues, and nudges Jakub's arm with it. He looks confused, but she nudges him again, then points the package toward his mother. Without a sound, he offers them to Grace, and she accepts them without thanks, blowing her nose with a loud honk before returning to her quiet sobs.
Jakub appears helpless, so Donovan reaches over his long legs and puts her hand on Grace's knee, giving her a small squeeze. Grace lays her hand upon Donovan's, patting it gently.
Jakub sighs loudly, possibly frustrated with these emotional women tagging along with him, but he pulls Donovan close and kisses the top of her head.
“Thank you,
”
he whispers. “For doing what I can’t. I have little memory of this place, only senses. Home is home.
Matka
is
matka
.
“But for my mother, she remembers the sights and the sounds and the smells, and it’s not the same. I fear it will be worse when we get to the forest; much of the old growth was destroyed in the last World War.”
“It doesn't bother you?
”
she asks.
“No. My connection is to the earth itself. The surroundings make no difference. I think they could probably burn the planet to ash and I could still find it. Just as I could still find you.”
Donovan's heart thrums loudly in her ears. This isn't the time or the place to be mooning over him, she knows, but she does all the same. Still, the way he talks of “his
”
forest and “his
”
place makes her wonder if it comes down to a choice, which he will choose. Will she even stand a chance when he has the opportunity to reclaim his birthright? Does a country hold more of his heart than she does?
24: Scattered
“
He dares,
”
Edyta's voice rises above the others.
“It seems he does,
”
Bożena replies.
“I thought we were preparing to go there,
”
Janina says.
“There appears to be no point, now, does there?
”
Bożena asks. “He's here, and odds are his mother has come with him. I highly doubt she would leave him to his own devices. Now we change our plans. This is our home. Our forest. None know it better than we.”
Grażyn
a
— she is thinking of herself as Grażyna now that she is back — can almost hear the voices of her sisters the closer the cab gets to the forest. She cannot help but think this is a huge mistake, coming here.
Back at their house, they would be in their own forest. Jakub knows those woods like the back of his hand and her sisters would be at a disadvantage. Here, she is blind, and so is Jakub. And the sisters have hundred
s
— if not thousands
—
of years of knowledge. They know every tree and root and rock here. She knows nothing but memories of a forest that has been mostly destroyed. Jakub knows less than that.
In addition, he is hobbled by the human girl, whose panic flares so palpably she nearly kept them from boarding the plane in the first place. They'd dragged her around like a giant marionette, pushing her this way and that way. She'd been unresponsive, and Grażyna had wondered if they'd even be able to drag the girl past security without someone thinking she was some kind of hostage.
The strangest thing yet, though, has been the moment the plane touched down. Whatever happened with Jakub the moment he reconnected with his true home had gone through the entire plane. Everyone had felt it, even Donovan. Yet Donovan had been the only one not under his control.
Grażyna feels no small amount of shame that she'd bowed to the unspoken whim of her son, but one lone human girl had managed to keep hold of her own free will, even panicked half out of her mind.
They will wait, she knows. Her sisters will wait until they enter the forest itself. As close as Jakub will be in the hotel, the sisters are unlikely to breach the building, or even the grounds; Jakub is correct in that regard. With them so close, the sisters will wait until the advantage is completely theirs, with no humans in sight, no unfamiliar boxes to navigate, no need to pretend to be anything they are not, before they strike.
She leans her head against the window of the cab and rubs her temples. She can feel her sisters: an incessant buzzing in her head. She feels alien in the cab, in her clothing. Every cell in her body cries out to flee the cab, strip to her bare skin, and return to the forest and her sisters. Even if they allow her no more than a few seconds before ending her, she thinks it will be worth it to feel whole again.
“Can I do anything for you?”
It is Jakub's low voice in her ear. She shakes her head, because what can he do? He cannot turn back time. He cannot make himself female. He cannot change all of her history, alter every decision she made that has brought them to this point.
She knows in her heart that she would make the same decision every time: to run with him, to save him. But to be so close to home and know she will see her sisters for minutes, at most, and only as enemy, breaks her heart.
~
Bożena is tempted to kill Edyta herself, long before there will be any confrontation with Grażyna and her son. Edyta — and now Zuzanna — are an incessant buzzing in her ears. Like pestering bees, they refuse to stop their recriminations. They should have moved faster. They should have gone to find him long ago. They should have continued their search even when he seemed to disappear.
Really, Bożena should have cut Edyta’s tongue out and that would also solve all her problems at the moment.
She can’t spare so much as a moment to think of anything but the strife being sown among the sisters by Edyta’s ranting. Why hadn’t they managed to take the child from Grażyna at his birth? Why hadn’t Bożena known Grażyna would try such a thing if he were a boy child? Why haven’t the sisters kept more current with all the things of the outside world that would have let them keep better track of things, find them more easily?