Only a Game (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 42: Saving Teddy

Azela

Two days. It's been two days. He would not go for two days without calling me. He wouldn't. I'm his mother. He loves me. Him and his dad---his dad has always known he was different. We thought it wouldn't matter. It does. We can both tell somehow. There's something strange about him. But at least no one else can. But what if they did? What if they took him because he's different? What if they knew? What if someone saw and knew?

I woke up in a cold sweat. Dreaming of some monster strangling him. Horrible monsters with yellow teeth, coming after him. And him trapped somewhere in the dark.

I can't lose him. And what if he's scared? I never told him how special he was. Well, I did. I told him how special he was to me. That counts, doesn't it? I know it doesn't. Not enough. And he's young. He's still a child. I didn't like him going all that way to begin with.

But the only reason he wouldn't contact me for this long was if something was really wrong. Like, really wrong.

I wish I had more cards left to play. I really do. But I know exactly one---supernatural—person. And he's a dick. But I know other worldly forces have got my Teddy. I just know it.

"Hello?" very suspiciously.

"Listen to me, you have to do something---just help me get him back and I swear I will never call you again," I say, rapidly.

"Bye—"

"Luke, please, please. I know—it's fine you don't care about him. But he's your son. And I love him more than anything. And he's in danger right now and I think it's because of---whatever it is he—and you, are," I say.

"And what am I, princess?"

"Something that people don't want to believe exists," I whisper, tears running down my face. "Please. This is all I'll ask you. I just want him home."

"Look, I have no idea what makes you think the kid has been kidnapped, but IF he is mine I'm sure he can handle that situation."

"He's seventeen years old, Luke."

"So? You wanna know what I was doing at seventeen?"

"No, because I don't give a flying fuck about you. I want my boy—my precious son, home—safe, now. because whatever took him isn't natural—isn't normal," I sigh, slumping down against the door. He won't help me. He's not helping.

"Well, we can't have everything we want in life. I'm sure you're overreacting—"

"He hasn't called me in two days he said he would!" I sigh, "He's not like that."

"You mean he's not like me."

"Yes."

"What you're failing to understand here is how little I care about who has or hasn't been kidnapped."

(a man's voice on the other end of the line): "Who are you talking to?"

Luke, clearly about to hang up: "A spam caller."

Me: "Don't you dare hang up on me."

The other voice, closer now: "Really? You were telling a spam caller that you don't care about a kidnapping?"

Luke, very haughtily: "Yes."

The other voice, definitely male, much closer now: "Cool, then you won't mind if I talk to them."

"No!"

Much shuffling, the phone is clearly being fought over.

"Why? Why can't I talk to this spam caller about a kidnapping too?"