Thea: Chapter Eight

Thea

August 6, 1900

“You know what I need? Some cake. I really, really want chocolate cake with raspberries and cream cheese frosting,” I rambled incessantly. It wasn’t even that I truly wanted cake, (though I could stand to stress eat). I was just doing everything in my power to divert my attention from James. It had been three days since his sudden disappearance, and Tim wasn’t sharing anything. At one point, he admitted that he actually did not know where James was, but that couldn’t be possible. I refused to believe that was possible.

“Then go get some freaking cake,” Tim reasoned from his fluffy red armchair. His face was so close to the book he was reading that one might have guessed that he needed glasses, but the truth of the matter was that he got so absorbed into his books that he can do nothing else but try to dive into the pages. Tim had always been a dreamer. “And get me some too please,” he quickly added.

“But I don’t want cake,” I pouted, whining like a child.
“You might not, but now I definitely do,” Tim stood up, his book already forgotten. He was on a cake mission, apparently.

“Tell me where James is,” I yelled, jumping on his back like a cat as he passed.

“I don’t know!” Tim flailed his way into the kitchen, spinning in circles to try and get me off. I don’t know why I didn’t try annoying him to an extreme extent before, it’s such an obvious solution. I clung to Tim’s shirt with determination not to be denied an answer this time.

We carried on like this for a considerable amount of time, spinning and hollering like some sort of angry, weird carousel.

Tim slowed to a dizzy stop and put a hand on the wall to regain his balance.

“Thea, I swear on our friendship that I have not an inkling where James is.”

I could hear the sincerity in his voice, and the apology. Tears welled up in my eyes and I could feel my face grow red and hot.

“I miss him, and I worry,” Tim said. I got off his back, turning away so he wouldn’t see my tears. He had only been trying to be comforting by not telling me, to give me some hope. I wanted to thank him for his honesty, but I knew the silent crying would turn into crazy, uncontrollable sobbing if I tried to speak.

“Are you going to be okay?” Tim gently asked.

I mumbled “I’ll be fine,” and slumped away, heartbroken.

It couldn’t be true, none of us had ever been anything less than completely frank with each other. Why would he just disappear like that? He wouldn’t. Would he? James was my best friend, I confided everything to him. It was an impossible thought that he wouldn’t say anything at all.  James and I were like two halves who were only truly complete together. How can I function if there’s only half of me? James doesn’t keep secrets from me, besides.

I suddenly realized that I was right, he would have told me. The only reasonable explanation was that James was in trouble. I had a guilty underlying feeling of joy that he hadn’t abandoned us.

I rushed back into the living room, hurriedly wiping tears from my face. I galloped over to the cake-cooking Tim, saying all the while that we must depart at once to find the kidnapped James.

“Thea, you think I haven’t tried to find him already?” Tim’s voice was filled with sympathy. “Sweetheart, the instant I realized that you didn’t know where James was either, I panicked and pretended I knew so that you wouldn’t panic too. It was very selfish of me, I’m so sorry. I called his phone, checked his computer for anything at all, contacted everyone we know. We were the last people to see him, four days ago at dinner. There’s nothing else we can do,” Tim’s voice cracked a little, and I could see that he was just as distraught as me.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested, knowing it would calm us both down. Tim nodded in agreement, covertly rubbing a potential tear from his eye.

We walked for a long time in silence. Neither of us wanted small talk, that would only make things worse. The silence was more tolerable, it wasn’t as strained as trying to talk. The only break was when we passed a cafe. I pulled him inside and ordered two enormous pieces of chocolate cake, which I think we both needed. It cheered the atmosphere a little, even on such a dismal day for us.

Luckily, the weather was on our side, with gorgeous sunlight pouring down upon us like a warm, comforting blanket. It’s harder to be sad on such a happy day. Especially for people like Tim and I, who find beauty and joy in the tiniest things. It became harder and harder to stay sad, and eventually I felt at peace despite myself. The street musicians playing their delicate souls out to the whole world for a few measly coins reminded me that not everything is done in all seriousness. The little kids throwing rocks down the storm drains told me that it’s okay to be curious.. Even the verminous pigeons that I found so beautiful reminded me that believing in one’s self is all that is needed to fly. The air was sweet with a summer richness and for a moment the day almost felt carefree. But there was always that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, the worry that ate away at my conscience like a rot. Where is James? Why didn’t I worry, why didn’t I see that there was something wrong? Am I a bad friend? It was that last question that really crushed me. Somewhere inside me I really believed that I was a terrible person for waiting around instead of searching for my lost half.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a twinge of something shiny. It wouldn’t have caught my attention, except it was a strange kind of shine that didn’t seem to reflect the sunlight but rather come from within. It was a harsh and cold light, completely unsuited for such a welcoming day. It disappeared almost instantly when I turned for a good look.

I instinctively swung around, taking Tim with me as I raced after the light. It had come from an unnervingly dark alley down which a stout figure had begun to run when I began my pursuit. We caught up in no time, pulling back the hood of a conspicuous black sweatshirt to reveal splotchy greyish skin. The creature’s mottled head turned, showing their face. The features were relatively humanoid, however there were many differences that would have been a bit disturbing if Tim and I had not grown up among such species. A large, beaky nose dotted with dark grey spots sat above a thin, wide mouth. Upon a bit more observation, it was obvious that the different shades and splotches were not skin, but rather hundreds of tiny fish scales. The eyes were the most striking, terrifying thing about the being. At first, there was only one to be found, right where the bridge of the nose might have been. Then, two other eyes on either side of the head opened and blinked a few times, as if just waking up.

The creature looked absolutely horrified of us, or of being discovered. I quickly smiled to show that we were accepting, remembering not to show my teeth to new people. There were so many social rules to the magical world, I struggled to recall them all. I knew showing teeth was a sign of aggression, and that offering a gift was customary. Tim was obviously thinking the same thing, as he was madly digging through his pockets. I began scouring my own person for anything of value as well.

I introduced myself and Timothy to the short, scared being. I noticed a little mirror in their pocket, which I assumed had been the shiny object that had caught my attention. It was cloudy and had a green tinge, though clean, which allowed me to identify it as a magical window. Tim held his hands open with his few items as an invitation to add. I asked for the being’s name to buy a bit more time.

“Frances,” they peeped timidly. They didn’t have a garbled, underwater voice like that of a fish as I expected, but they chirped in a way that reminded me of a baby bird. I nodded in acknowledgement as I dumped the contents of my pockets into Tim’s hands. Between us, we had a watch battery, a few crumpled receipts, a lemon cough drop, eighteen cents, a bit of yarn, way too much lint, a chain of colorful paperclips, and a temporary tattoo of a frog. By this point, Frances was fascinated as to what in the world we could possibly be doing. After some pointing and raised eyebrows, the two of us decided that we would offer the eighteen cents as our gift.

“We offer you this gift to signify peace,” I said lamely as Tim gave Frances our pathetic present. Frances took the coins with a small smile and nodded a thank you, pulling out a gift of their own. It was a forget-me-not, the little blue flower. It was in gorgeous condition, as if it had just been picked and never put in a pocket. Tim graciously received the bloom, and I jumped for joy (on the inside) that we had found someone from the magical realm. Frances might have a person or a place for us to start looking for James, if they had heard of him.

I was a bit too stressed to think heavily upon the norms of conversation, such as small talk. I blurted, “Have you heard anything about a man named James?”

Frances thought for a bit, trying to remember. “Hast he a surname?”

“No, he’s a Shadow Thief,” I explained. Frances didn’t seem to understand, so I clarified, “Shadow Thieves aren’t born, they kind of just appear. Therefore, they aren’t given names. We started calling him James because we needed to call him something.”

“I see. I recall hear tell of a James, sadly ‘twas but for a minute. Most shamefully, I overheard the word from some passerby gentlemen.”

“What exactly did you hear?” Tim kindly asked.

“For a moment, methinks I heard whispered confidence of a debt, or mayhaps a threat. I forget. Ha!” Thoroughly amused, Frances smiled a smile that made their lips even wider looking than before, which made for a very strange effect on an already weird creature.

“Thank you for your time,” I tried not to sound glum at the lack of information. I made a small bow and we turned to take our leave.

“Pause awhile, I have some stirrings of memory,” said Frances. “Yes, I do believe that they also mentioned either forests or tourists or florists, whichever makes the most sense to thou. Good day,” and with a quick bow and the replacement of their hood, Frances departed.

“So what I gathered from that is that James has become a florist in the forest and gets most of his business from tourists, but he’s in debt which is a threat,” Tim summarized. He beamed at me proudly.

“We mustn’t forget,” I replied. I wished I could’ve thought of something wittier, but the gears in my brain were turning over and over upon the new information. There were woods nearby, and I highly doubted that flowers or tourists truly had anything to do with the situation. I supposed the forest would be the best place to start, if not, some fresh air couldn’t do us any harm.

“To the forest?” I suggested as we exited the depressingly dark alley and stepped into the brilliant sunshine.

“To the forest!” Tim agreed with new hope. I think the encounter with Frances lifted both of our hopes, reminding us that the magical world was ever-present and at our disposal.

We walked a bit quicker, impatience and possibility driving us forward. There was a strange feeling in the air at the edge of the forest. There almost seemed to be a line between the cheery disposition of the town and the enigmatical mystery that shrouded the trees. It was strangely inviting, the cool silence only a few footsteps out of the sunlight. It was very silent indeed, and I realized that Tim and I had both involuntarily stopped at the threshold to the immense, deep forest.

I suddenly remembered the midnight stroll I had taken in that very wood just three nights ago. It had been the night James disappeared. The footprints in the mud, the signs of struggle. I hoped with all my might that James had nothing to do with it.

Tim and I shared a look of worry, anticipation, and fear. “Well, here goes nothing,” I said as we stepped into the forest.

We explored the atmospheric depths of the woods for quite some time, chatting every now and then about superficial things. I kept a sharp eye out for more tracks, but did not mention it to Tim in case it was nothing. There was no sign of James, or any other creature. The forest was still and serene, save for our few quips and comments. There was not much to find, or look for. I think we were both just wandering, looking for a direction to start searching in. This was the closest thing we had to James, so we scoured and sought.

I recognized a small beaten path that had been created by animals crashing through the brush as one I had been following the other night. I began down it, Tim close behind. Eventually, we passed a poppy with a broken stem. I was scared, yet curious to see what had been in the mud now that there was sufficient lighting.

The bootprint and many scuffed dog pawprints were still there, the hardened mud preserving them. Beyond that, there were scuff marks and - to my horror - dried blood smeared across leaves, mottling the dirt, tarnishing the trees. We slowly walked through the sickening battleground, dreading any sign of our dear friend.

Hidden by a leaf and wedged underneath a large root, there was a forgotten shoe. It had been left behind by someone in a hurry. With crushing terror coursing through my veins, I recognized a hastily scribbled James on the boot tag.

What had he done?