Granting Wishes - An Aladdin Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 5) Page 3

  “My parents,” I say as I grab Erick’s hand and slam it against my forehead. Then I drop to my knees before the water. “Show me my parents.”

  Nothing happens.

  “My parents,” I repeat, louder this time, voice laced with desperation. I dig my fingers into his skin as though I have claws. Something within me snaps, and when I speak again, the tone is more broken than it’s ever been before. “Please, show me my parents.”

  “Alanna.” His voice is so soft, so sorry—I know what that sound means. When I turn to look at him, loathing churns in my gut, hatred of the sympathy in his eyes. “If the water doesn’t show them, they’re not—”

  “No,” I cut him off and shake my head. “My mother. Show me my mother.”

  I dredge up every memory of her I can imagine—summer afternoons building sandcastles on the beach, winter evenings roasting marshmallows in the backyard, fall hikes up the hills around our home, spring shopping sprees at the stores downtown. Everyone always tells me I look just like her, but I don’t believe it. My mother is beautiful, with silky-smooth hair she used to let me play with for hours, and warm green eyes that are always so bright and loving, like dawn rising over a grassy field. She’s taller than me, lithe and strong, and so friendly, giving her smiles away like candy on Halloween. For some reason, all I think about is the first time she saw me perform a release on the uneven bars. She stopped coming to my practices as soon as I learned how to do flips—she said the mere sight gave her a heart attack. But this was during a competition, so she and my dad were watching from the stands. I took a quick glance toward her as I stepped up to the mat, and immediately rolled my eyes at the way she clasped her hands before her face, wringing them nervously. As soon as I nailed my landing, I darted my gaze her way again, but this time she was beaming. My dad, of course, was clapping too. They were both proud—and that routine put me in first place—but for my mom it was more than that. She was in awe almost. I’d never felt so special in my life, so loved.

  And now, she’s gone.

  I feel it deep in my soul, as though my heart is physically splitting in two. Every second the water remains calm, I fall apart. My breath shortens. My chest burns. An ache scratches down the back of my throat, like a scream fighting to break its way out, so I clamp my lips shut.

  “Mom,” I croak. “Dad.”

  His face fills my thoughts, those thick black-rimmed glasses we always teased made him look like a dork, the self-deprecating quirk of his lips as he took the jabs in kind, and the creases at the corners of his eyes when he returned fire. He’s tall, just like my brother, but all limbs where Mace is all muscle. He used to joke that he could’ve been a basketball stud too, if his mother hadn’t been such a terrible cook that he went hungry for most of his childhood, leaving him all skin and bones. My gran always takes offense to that, giving him a good smack on the back of the head and a, My ungrateful son. Maybe I shouldn’t have worked so hard to put food on your table. Children in other parts of the world were starving, you know. And your brother never complained about the fish sticks. Side note—Uncle Charlie always complained about the fish sticks. He was just smart enough not to do it to my gran’s face.

  The ghost of a smile passes over my lips with the memory, and the water ripples, colors shifting. They settle on a face I recognize—my uncle. He’s alive. He’s safe. He’s hugging his daughter to his chest, my cousin Emma, while he stares over her shoulder toward the television in the corner of his living room. He and his wife live on Long Island with their kids, about twenty minutes west of my grandparents. We’ve gone to visit them a few times, but even if I’d never been, I’d recognize the city flashing across the screen. It’s New York—only not. Dust plumes above the city, debris from skyscrapers that have fallen, an image too reminiscent of a time in the not-so-distant past. Through the haze I can see that half the skyline is gone, replaced with a medieval style-castle and rolling hills. The picture is only there for a second before the screen switches to static nothingness, as though the feed has blinked out. The news program returns to its anchor.

  “Again, that was footage from one of the local helicopters, taken and transmitted a moment before New York City went dark. We’ve been unable to contact any of the local reporters, and all the national news stations headquartered in the city have been unresponsive. Phones don’t seem to be working. Internet and satellite feeds are down. If you have family in the area, please call—”

  I yank Erick’s hand away and the image disappears. The water clears, so transparent I can see all the way to the algae-covered rocks nestled at the bottom of the pond. In that mossy hue, laced with golden sparks from the orb overhead, I see my brother’s eyes.

  I need to save him.

  “Erick,” I say, not realizing it comes out as a shout until he jolts.

  I hardly notice—all I’m thinking is I can’t lose them all. Not my mother and my father and my brother all in the same day. I don’t want to believe my parents are gone, just like I don’t want to believe this is real. It’s crazy. It’s insane. But I’m here. I’m sitting by a small pond, beneath a magic light, in a meadow of flowers that somehow bloomed in the darkness of an underground cave, beside a man who pulled apples out of thin air. None of it makes sense, but it’s as real as I am breathing. And this is too. I know it in my gut. And I know one more thing—Mace needs me.

  “Erick,” I repeat, determined this time. My voice is sharp with steely focus. “My brother, Mason, I need to save him. I can’t live without him. And you have to help me. Please, you have to help me.”

  “I will,” he says as he takes my hand and squeezes, as though trying to ground me. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Alanna, because you’ve given me a gift today. Hope. Something I haven’t felt in hundreds of years. I was beginning to think my world would never be saved—that the magic would never be free. But seeing you? Seeing a glimpse of your world? It’s given me a glimmer of the salvation I’ve so longed for. The tides are changing, and I’m only sorry that my elation is coming at the cost of your pain. I’ll do whatever I can to lessen the blow. Come.”

  He tugs on my hands and we stand together.

  As he leads me deeper into the field, he keeps speaking, filling the silence with a plan—something I desperately need right now. “There’s something you must know about my world if you’re going to survive it—magic is the law. The royal families who rule the kingdoms all have their own sets of powers, and to question them or it is to die. But if they think you’re one of them, you might stand a chance.”

  I shake my head, glancing down at my black leggings, at the harness still strapped to my waist and thighs. “We might have a problem there.”

  “Clothes can easily be adjusted,” he mutters and snaps his fingers.

  By the time I blink, my entire outfit has changed. My athletic gear is gone, replaced with something I’d never wear in a million years—a purple silk dress. The fabric cinches tightly around my waist, as though pulled by a corset—heck, it might be—then cascades to the floor in loose, dramatic folds. I bend my elbows, annoyed at how the long sleeves constrict my movement, and frown at the fancy gold embroidery creating a floral pattern up my arms. Heavy weights pull on my ears and I lift my fingers to find jewelry that wasn’t there before. When I look down to my wrist, it sparkles, encircled with a bedazzled bracelet, the likes of which I’ve only seen in the pages of a glossy magazine.

  “Uh, Erick, I was thinking more along the lines of breaking and entering. You know, maybe a mask over my eyes, some sick leather pants, and some cool daggers dangling from my hips.”

  “Daggers you don’t know how to use?” He arches a brow. I have no idea how someone in a bright blue velvet vest manages to pull off such a smug attitude, but he does.

  “I could learn,” I mutter with a shrug.

  “Fighting won’t get you anywhere,” he counters. “I believe they’ll be taking your brother and any other prisoners to the dungeons at the base of the palace. Your best
hope is to fool them into thinking you’re a fellow royal who was traveling nearby when the collision struck. Here—” He pauses to wave his hand through the air. Suddenly, a warm cloak of roughly spun fabric drapes over my shoulders, a muddy brown. Clearly, Erick’s never been to San Diego in the spring. I’m about to pull the thing off when he holds a hand up to stop me. “Say you stole that off someone who had fallen and then ran into Bahagar to hide after your carriage toppled in the earthquake. You lost your entourage and you’re alone. When they see the silk dress and the jewels, they’ll take you to the king. And when he sees your magic, he’ll believe you. Because like I said—magic is the law. It doesn’t lie. Well, at least it didn’t. But now, everything has changed.”

  “One problem,” I cut in. “I don’t have magic, or did you forget that?”

  He rolls his eyes. “You have me. And I have all the magic we’ll need.”

  “What—”

  Erick cuts me off with a look, then kneels and tugs some grass from the dirt. I watch as he braids it together and folds it into a ring. He blows softly over the strands, and the green color deepens, then darkens, until it turns black. With his thumb, he rubs the ash away to reveal polished silver. Then he whispers softly. A prickly vine erupts from the ground and Erick pushes his finger into a thorn, deep enough to draw blood. The drop pools on his skin, growing as he keeps whispering. He dips the silver band into the spot. By the time he pulls back, the wound is sealed and a deep-red ruby sparkles from the center of the ring. Erick reaches for my hand and slips the jewel over my finger.

  “Keep this on you at all times,” he says, holding my gaze to emphasize the importance of his words. “I’ll watch you in the water, and when the time comes for you to prove your magic, I’ll do what needs to be done. As long as my blood is in contact with your skin, I’ll be able to channel my power through you.”

  A shiver zips down my spine as I brush my fingers over the stone. It’s smooth and hard and polished, yet as I stare, something deep within it churns, like a current swirling through the liquid trapped inside. I look back up, finding Erick’s eyes. “Why don’t you just come with me? You be the royal big shot, and I’ll be the unassuming sidekick they never saw coming.”

  A sad smile passes over his lips. “I would, Alanna. Trust me, I would. But I’m the guardian of this place, this cave of wonders as we used to call it. I cannot leave. Not yet.”

  “Why—”

  “That’s not for you to know,” he interjects sternly, as though I’m a petulant child. But then his features soften. “All you need to know is that I have faith in you, and I’ll be with you the entire time, in spirit if not in body. That’s all I can give.”

  I nod and swallow my protest.

  It’s enough. It’s more than enough. If this cave hadn’t been here, I’d be dead. And who knows what’s happening on the surface above. Does Yosemite even exist anymore? Maybe that’s why I fell. I didn’t let go—the cliff I’d been climbing had simply disappeared. It would explain why the safety carabiners didn’t break my fall—they’d vanished too. No one from my world is coming to get me. If not for Erick, I’d be a goner. And now because of Erick, my brother has a chance too.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, forcing the words through my tight throat. I push everything else back down—the hurt, the confusion, the pain—and focus on my brother. Everything else can come later.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Erick says and turns back toward the pond. “I’ll get you as close to your brother as I can. Remember, they’ll probably take him to the dungeons. Bide your time. First, convince the king you mean no harm, and ask him for safekeeping. Don’t go exploring the palace until it’s dark. Oh, I almost forgot—you need my tongue.”

  “What?”

  I jerk back, but Erick presses his fingers to my forehead. My eyelids flutter. That same sort of shuffling sensation muffles my brain, but this time, it feels as though something is flooding in rather than flooding out. He pulls his hand away.

  “Are you ready?”

  The words aren’t English, but I understand them just the same. Language—he gave me his language. And before on the beach, the first time he sorted through my mind, he must’ve been taking knowledge of mine. When I open my mouth to speak, the foreign phrase is there, as though I’ve known it my entire life. “I’m ready.”

  “You must promise me one thing before you go.” He steps closer, peering into my eyes as though he’s a human lie detector and with one glance, he can see the truth within my soul. “After your brother is safe and you’re done with this quest, you will come back here to return the ring to me. Do you promise?”

  “I promise.” The ring on my finger burns as though branding the oath onto my skin, but I don’t break his gaze.

  Erick nods and puts his hands on my shoulders to spin me around. “Then look into the water and think of your brother.”

  As I imagine Mace, his face appears. He’s a little bruised, but not broken. I can see the determination in his gaze. It’s the same stubborn gleam that I’m sure lights my eyes right now. Erick lets go of my shoulders, then shoves me from behind. I stumble forward in surprise and topple into the pond. My eyes close and I hold my breath on instinct, anticipating impact.

  But I don’t hit the water.

  I don’t hit anything.

  I’m lying on my side on solid ground with my hands tucked beneath my cheek. For a moment, I think I’m waking up from a dream, safe and warm in bed. Maybe I haven’t even left for my camp yet. Maybe this was all a crazy nightmare because my mom told me climbing was dangerous and Mace made me watch that stupid movie. Maybe this was all in my head.

  The hope vanishes as quickly as it came.

  Someone steps on my leg as screams filter into my ears.

  When I breathe, sand fills my nose.

  I open my eyes to pure chaos.

  Everywhere I look, there’s motion. People running. People fighting. People falling. The air is filled with equal parts shouts and screams, the terrorizing and the terrified. A loud boom rattles the ground, as though a building nearby has collapsed. The sound jolts me from the madness.

  Mace.

  He’s all I need to think about right now. He’s my only concern.

  I roll to my feet and quickly take in my surroundings, realizing I’m standing in the last spot I’d seen him—the line dividing my high school gym from these ancient city streets. I spin, circling until I’m dizzy, but I don’t see any warriors in black uniforms.

  Where is he?

  Where are they?

  I stumble across the rubble and around the side of the gym, trying to see where they could’ve gone. The road is littered with cars. None of them are moving—they’re just stopped as though frozen in time. And they each have an opened door, giving the impression that people jumped out and ran. An uncomfortable tingle spreads down my back. It’s eerie.

  Why abandon the cars?

  Before I have time to answer my own question, movement in the sky catches my attention. I glance up to find a helicopter in the distance, hardly more than a black dot against a cloud. It drifts closer and closer. Then suddenly it stops. The blades slow. The whole aircraft tilts to the side, and it drops, down, down, down, disappearing behind a hill. Two seconds later, an angry orange cloud erupts, spilling smoke into the sky. My thoughts return to that video of New York on my uncle’s television screen—a video that cut to static. The news anchor said New York had gone dark. How could a city with a population in the millions lose contact all at once? I mean—every cell phone, every computer, every satellite feed, every internet connection across the entire city was gone? Just like that?

  I know I should be searching for Mace, but this feels important.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I’m inside one of the cars. The key is still in the ignition. I twist it, turning the car off, then back on, then repeating. The engine doesn’t rumble to life. Not a single light on the dashboard even flickers. In the cupholder, I see a cell phone and snatch it.
I try to turn it on. I try to auto-restart it. The screen remains blank. So I move to the next car—but the same things happens. It’s dead. Everything is dead.

  My uncle had electricity. He was watching TV, but…

  I glance over my shoulder, toward the ancient desert city on the other side of the line. What if something about this new world, this magic world, affects our technology? It would explain the cars. It would explain the situation in New York. It would explain why I don’t see police vehicles or military tanks barreling down the street. When I was talking to Erick, I was freaked out for Mace, but in the back of my mind, I never doubted that if it came to a battle of power, my world would win. We have global communication. We have automatic weapons. We have nukes. But now I’m starting to second-guess.

  What if the magic is more powerful?

  What happens to us then?

  A flash of black catches my eye through the chaos. My questions vanish the moment I lay eyes on the warrior down the street, walking deeper into his foreign world.

  Mace.

  I need to find Mace. Everything else is secondary.

  After gathering my skirts in my hands, I spring forward, cursing these freaking silks and the heavy cloak. What the heck was Erick thinking? I look ridiculous. This whole plan is ridiculous. I should just grab Mace and run. But first, I need to find him. So I swerve down the crowded streets, keeping my eyes peeled for the warriors in black and the prisoners they’d chained. I catch a glimpse and follow the dark speck down the street, around one corner, then another, deeper and deeper until every hint of the San Diego I know has disappeared. Everything is clay houses and brown clothes and cobbled streets. The only language I hear is the one Erick put in my head. With each step forward, I move farther and farther from everything I’ve ever known, but closer and closer to the only thing that matters—my brother.