Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“Why though? When they have Tarq and Pie?”
Her eyes narrow and her face changes. “You know them?”
“You know them?”
“Of course. I made them up.”
“What? Well… I don’t know about that, but I do know them. I’m… from the future.” God, that sounded lame.
But this seems to be an acceptable answer to her, because she smiles big now and then laughs and claps her hands. “I did it! I really did it! All my friends said, ‘No way, Pressia! No way will you ever change your future!’ But did I listen? Gods no, I didn’t! I just did my magic and poof! My life has changed!”
I actually laugh. Because all her feigned maturity disappears and she morphs into a seven-year-old before my very eyes. And finally, the word ‘cute’ has found its proper home in this tiny girl.
“I knew I could.” She plants her hands on her hips. “I’m powerful, Pell.”
“Oh, don’t I know it. You will write books in the future, Pressia. Hundreds of them.”
She gasps again. “Really!”
“Truly. You are a great alchemist. I have all of your books in my apothecary. I used the one on bags to tame some magic rings.”
“Stop it!” And she slaps me on the chest. Which she can’t even reach without going up on her tiptoes.
“But what are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“In the future, in those books, you drew pictures of yourself.”
“Ooooooh. What did I look like? Tell me, please.”
“Well, like this. But… you were a market nymph.”
“Was I?”
“I guess. Are you a market nymph?”
“No! I’m a godling, silly. Like you. Except a girl. Of course.”
“But what is that?”
“Wow. Well, we’re made from all the gods. Actually, not all. You were made from all the gods and I was made from all the goddesses. Did they curse you? Is that why you’re slow?”
The chuckle cannot be stopped. “Yes, for sure. But my memory, it’s all messed up. So I don’t understand anything. My hallways brought me here and—”
“Hallways! They’re real!” She snickers. “And I thought I made them up!”
“What?”
She points to her dolls. And the dollhouse, which now that I look at it has a suspicious likeness to the… “Holy fucking shit. That’s my sanctuary!”
She claps her hands. “I did it! I made it all real.” Then she grabs my hand and tugs on it as she jumps up and down. “How did I do it?”
I shrug. “You’re asking the wrong guy. But… wait. If you made up Saint Mark’s—”
“Oh, my goddess! It’s even got the same name?”
“You came up with that stupid name?”
“I had a dream about the future. Some man who wrote a book that went famous.”
“The Saint Mark? Who wrote a gospel in the Bible?”
“He’s real too!”
“And the lions?”
“Oh, those silly lions. They’re everywhere, aren’t they? They pop into all my fantasies. So, anyway. What’s the question again?”
What is the question? “Oh. Right. What are they doing? If they’ve got Pie and Tarq to make their godling then why do they need us?”
“Oh.” Her face falls and goes serious. “Yeah. That’s a problem. It wasn’t, when I thought it was a fantasy. But now that it’s real…” Her blue eyes meet my yellow ones. “I dunno. What could it mean?”
“Well, just off the top of my head here, that… maybe… perhaps… we’re not necessary?”
“Right.” She spins, walks across the room, then spins again. “And the wedding is off, you say?”
“Definitely off. Something happened at some Caretaker Ceremony and all the plans have changed.”
“Hmm. That wasn’t in my fantasy.”
I sigh. I like her. She would be a nice friend. But I’m so sick of this mystery.
“Perhaps”—she raises a finger—“perhaps this is not my fantasy.”
“I’m not following.”
“Perhaps… I just… tapped into the… truth? Maybe?”
“You mean like you have some kind of psychic power or something?”
“Psyche. Do we like her? I never did. She came to visit me once, asking all these questions about her man, and I found her kind of mean. Don’t you think she’s mean?”
“Not Psyche the goddess. The word. Which means… um. Oracle.” I snap my fingers. “Yes. That’s the word I’m looking for. Maybe you’re an oracle.”
“Oooooooh.” She likes this idea. “Perhaps I am an oracle.” Then she frowns. “Is that more or less powerful than being someone who can turn fantasies real?”
“Less, I think. But still very helpful.”
She sighs. “Well, yes. I agree. And I write books, you say?”
“Very helpful books, Pressia. It’s like…” I chuckle. “It’s like you knew the future and wrote books that I would need. Too bad I just noticed most of them today. I could’ve put an end to all this bullshit two thousand years ago.” But then I reconsider. “Well, then I would’ve never met Pie. And we wouldn’t be in love.”
Pressia gets a swoony look on her face. “Tell me more. I want to hear all the romantic details.”
“Um… yeah. That’s not gonna happen. You’re like… seven.”