The Last Hope

11 - Secrets

SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER - Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos. Linked above! If you enjoy the chapter please vote, it means a lot. Also, I actively encourage commenting and am trying my best to reply to any as quickly as I can. Want a chat? Don't be shy!

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Mercy was aware she was lying on the floor when she woke. But where she expected harsh nylon fibres against her cheek was the feeling of something smoother. The scent of dust and dirt swirled into her lungs as she took a deep breath, she abruptly stopped. Blue eyes popping open.

"Not again." She was back. Somehow, despite not having this dream since Devin - she was back. She abruptly stood, dusting off her Elmo pyjamas. Not embarrassing at all. Never had she been anywhere so mildly warm but that made her throat so dry and scratchy in an instant. Flickering caught her attention in the corner of her eye. High up on the hill, a flag writhed atop the ruins of the castle. How odd, since she could feel no wind.

"Is this what they consider fashion in your realm?" A bemused voice drawled behind her.

She turned to find Jaxon lounging in his swing again, swaying softly with his feet resting on the floor. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Gesturing to her t-shirt and shorts combo, she said, "Elmo is a celebrity on Earth."

He laughed softly, brown eyes becoming molten, the hard lines of his face softening.

"How did I get here?"

"I called for you."

"And how did you do that?" Her tone was bordering sarcasm.

"The ring you are wearing connects you to me. It allows me to summon you if I need to."

She locked that piece of information away in case she needed it. Mercy crossed the space, stopping a foot from the circle of verdant grass. "I found Mona, all of the Sentinels, actually."

"How is she?" His eyes practically glowed, leaning forward.

"She's good. I think. We didn't really get to talk much about ourselves. The whole realm ending psychopath thing kind of occupied the conversation. There wasn't much small talk."

"Did she look okay? Healthy?" He probed.

Mercy tilted her head studying him. His expression was fervent, eyes passionate. Then it clicked, "Oh ho! Jaxon way to go, man! You and Mona?" She wolf-whistled, forgetting where she was, then looked around anxiously for any beginnings of a storm.

"It is okay. You are wearing the ring still; we have some time before they find us."

Slightly reassured, but not by much, Mercy turned back to him, "So...tell me the deets," Mercy waggled her eyebrows at him.

Reluctantly, he smiled. "You have your father's effrontery I see."

When Mercy still stared expectantly, he sighed, "there is much to discuss, maybe you should sit." He gestured with long fingers to a chair which had somehow appeared from nothing.

Mercy took a seat, tugging on her Elmo shorts. Here she was, in her pyjamas, sat in her ruined Kingdom, with a Sentinel whose glowing wings stretched six feet behind him. Just your average Tuesday.

"Mona Lucille De Nova is really Mona Lucille Ivium. She is my wife."

Mercy raised her eyebrows. From the little she'd seen of Mona, she didn't seem like the marrying type. And there was a slight age gap between her and Jaxon. Between Jaxon and the rest of the Sentinels, not that it mattered. They all looked to be in their early 20s, possibly twenty-five for Mona, whereas Jaxon was probably bordering his forties. But then, they were all magical beings with awfully long lifespans, according to Keenan, so age probably wasn't high up on their priorities list.