Fables & Other Lies

“And then we die,” I said.

“And then they die.” He smiled.

“I didn’t even know witches could die.” I glanced back at the house. It was beautiful, despite its darkness.

“Who says they can?”

“Is your father a witch?”

River chuckled. “Was yours?”

I pursed my lips at that. Touché. He laughed louder, that real, unfiltered laugh I witnessed last night. It truly was a beautiful sound. The fog lifted a little more, the clouds opening up just so, just a bit, so that the sun shone through. I looked up to see the single ray of sun breaking through the clouds. It took me a second to react, but when I did, I gathered my camera and started to take pictures of the house. I walked to the front and took some more. With the light, the green grass, and fruitful tree, it looked like a dream. A house with a wraparound porch to drink tea in on a hot summer day and a yard to run around.

“How many acres surround the house?” I snapped a picture of the flowers near my feet, not for the real estate company, or my blog, but because I was compelled to. They looked like pink dahlias.

“Ten acres.” River walked over to me, standing beside me again. He kept looking over my shoulder to see the screen on my camera, which was something I normally couldn’t stand people doing but I didn’t mind when he did it. Besides, it was his house.

“Ten acres is a lot.”

“You know this is an island, right?” He sounded amused. “We have about twenty-five thousand acres total, give or take.”

My brows rose. “I mean, I guess there is no definition that says an island can’t be just a dot as long as it’s surrounded by water.”

“Yes, that is the definition of an island, Penelope.” He chuckled. “What I mean to say is that this is a piece of that island.” He pointed in the direction of Pan. “A big chunk of it, too. Pan is what, two-hundred and forty miles long?”

“Something like that.”

“They say originally, before the curse, before everything, there was no part between this and that and that the entire island measured two-hundred and eighty miles give or take.”

“This doesn’t seem like it would be forty miles.” I looked around.

“You’d never know it because you’re just in the entrance of it. We have miles and miles behind us, and restaurants and grocery stores and everything an inhabited island is supposed to have.”

“What?” I blinked. “No way. Who lives here?”

“People.”

I searched his eyes. He stared right back. It made sense. His staff had to come from somewhere. It was just that I always associated Dolos Island with the Caliban Manor and nothing else.

“How big is the house?”

“About fifteen thousand square feet.”

“Wow,” I whispered, stepping away, a little further now.

My feet wouldn’t keep walking though, not even halfway to the black iron gates. Maybe it was because now I knew I’d have to go down that gravelly, winding road to get there, or because I was half expecting the water to flood back up. And what if it did and I was standing at the edge here? Worry rendered me motionless. What if the water came back? What if it covered us and we drowned here? I swallowed hard. What if that was my penance for my wish, for my success?

“You worry too much,” River said, startling me.

“What?” I met his gaze.

“The water won’t come. That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

“How do you know it won’t? How do you know a wave won’t hit us and drown us?”

“Because I’ve stood here countless times and I’ve taken the drive to and from the house every year this week.”

“And you just . . . trust that it won’t happen?” I eyed his profile.

“I don’t trust that it won’t happen.” River glanced over at me, a small smile tugging the side of his mouth.

My heart beat so quickly, I couldn’t remember what it was I was worried about a second ago. I blinked away from his gaze and looked back again, toward where I knew the gates were; an expanse of nothingness covered it.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked after a moment.

“Yes.” I followed him to the dark gray R8 that awaited us at the side of the house. “Why do you have such nice cars if you have nowhere to really drive them?”

“Who says I have nowhere to drive them?” He glanced at me once we were inside the car. I pulled my seatbelt on. He didn’t.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess you can drive it around Dolos if it’s such a developed island like you say it is.” I shrugged.

“I drive in many places.”

“Do you look forward to the party every year?”

“Not really. I’m not a fan of having strangers in my home.” He shot me a look. “You’re an exception.”