Not the Hero (pt. 2/3)

Merry Happy Holidays everybody! My beta reader said I needed a LOT more explanation, so I've extended this by one part (third part posting the 27th) . The last part is all action so I'm excited to get that past the editing gauntlet and to you all!

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When the world starts to stabilize, you know exactly where Cam’s bringing you--his room. You can see flashes of the horror movie posters he keeps on the wall and he’s had the same band poster on his door since your were kids. You have a brief surge of nostalgia before the room settles around you, your feet landing solidly on the floor.

A horrible scraping sound vibrates through your head.

Your neck snaps to the side and you instinctively drop to one knee, hands flying up to try and get whatever’s making the sound away. Plaster dust rains down around you. “Shit!”

“I didn’t think about your antlers!” Cam rushes over to shove you fully onto the beige carpet by your shoulders. “Sorry, did that hurt?”

You sneeze plaster dust. “No, it just--” felt like someone was steering you by your skull-- “surprised me. I’m okay.”

“Sorry,” Cam says again. He looks up at the ceiling and winces. “Yeah, mom’s definitely going to notice that.”

You swallow, hard. The last time you saw Cam’s mom, she didn’t exactly like you. The damage to her house will probably make her like you even less. You look around nervously.  “Does your mom know I’m here?”

“Didn’t have time to warn her mid-teleport,” Cam says dryly.  “Not that she knows about that anyway.” He brushes plaster dust off his shoulders and makes for the closet. His voice goes all muffled when he starts digging through it. “Hopefully she’s out.  I think the fewer people who see the antlers, the better.”

You reach up to touch them self-consciously. Your neck is starting to feel the extra weight and you’re still not sure how big they are, exactly. Big enough to gouge a sizable hole in Cam’s ceiling, apparently. Certainly too big to fit under a hat. “Good point.” You look around Cam’s room. While the posters are the same, not everything is. Cam’s got a large desk now, with a computer, rather than the little table you guys would sit at. His bed is a full-sized mattress instead of the twin and his comforter is a soft-looking green instead of blue. “You changed your room.”

“Well, yeah,” Cam says. He crows in triumph and emerges from the closet with a small cylinder in his hand. It’s about three inches in diameter and maybe an inch deep. “It’s been, like, four years since you stopped coming over.”

“Four years since your mom last let me over,” you correct. It’s been a sore spot for you for years, but you regret the bitterness in your voice immediately. You’re beginning to understand why she stopped you from coming over, and it’s not Cam’s problem. As your dad would say, it’s yours. You nod to the thing in Cam’s hand. “What’s that?”

Cam is staring at you. “Wait, my mom didn’t let you come over? You didn’t just...stop?”

You pull on the neck of your shirt. It’s a little singed from Cam’s magic explosion and is rough against your fingers. “It’s not a big deal. I was a big kid and she said I was getting too rough. I understand.”

“Too…” Cam trails off, eyes going distant behind his large glasses. Finally, he shakes his head. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t--” He cuts himself off and worries his lower lip.

You don’t really want to know what he was about to say. It was bad enough hearing his mom tell you that you were bad for Cam back then; you don’t want to hear that from Cam too. Uncomfortable, you point again to the thing in his hand. “How’s that supposed to help us?” You squint at the flower painted across the front. A vague memory of going through your mother’s purse rises. “It’s a mirror, right?”

Cam shakes his head. “Ah, yeah, yeah.” He presses a button at the front and it springs open. The glass inside isn’t clear like you expected. It’s murky, like looking into a lake. “Genevieve’s world used mirrors instead of phones.”

“Genevieve’s world?” you ask. You lean out of the way so Cam can get to the desk. “She’s not from here?”

“She lives here now,” Cam says. He sets the mirror on the table, settling it so its face is pointed at just him. “Her home world got eaten up by the Abyssal Realm.”

“Oh,” you say. 

“Yep,” Cam says. He sits in his desk chair and then spins to look at you. “She teamed up with Mitch’s organization to try and stop the Abyssal Realm from eating any more worlds. His organization is like...the police, I guess. Or the FBI? They’re in charge of managing the pathways between worlds. The Abyssal Realm is their top priority. They believe if it consumes enough, the whole universe will collapse.”

Your head hurts. “But what does that have to do with you? And why is this realm coming here? And if Mitch is supposed to be the police, why’d he try to kill me?”

“You always did ask a lot of questions,” Cam mutters, almost to himself. Louder, he says, “I don’t know, dude. Mitch found me, like a month ago and I only met Genevieve two weeks ago.”

Your brow knits. “You’ve known Mitch for a whole month and he hasn’t told you why the carnivore realm is coming here?”

“He’s not exactly a fountain of information,” Cam says. He rubs the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up with the motion. “Isn’t it coming here because it’s evil? I don’t know. I don’t think the motivation is really important, do you?”

You hesitate. You’re a good football player because you think about the other team’s motivations a lot, just like your brother told you to. “Well...kinda? And why do you even have powers? You didn’t when we were kids, right?”

“No, I started getting them--” Cam breaks off. His mouth opens, closes, and opens again. “I got my powers a month ago. Mitch showed up right after and told me I had to save the world.”

You knew Cam was in trouble. “He told you you have to save the world because you have powers? But why do you have powers?”

Cam rears back as if struck. His mouth twists and his eyes gleam behind his glasses. “You mean, why did the weak kid get the superpowers? Why not you, right?”

“No,” you say, eyebrows flying up. You’ve never seen Cam angry before. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You actually kind of think that if anyone deserves superpowers, it’d be Cam. He’s always been a good guy.

“Sure,” Cam says, but not like he believes you. He spins back towards the mirror. “Our best bet is to call Genvieve. She probably knows why me and why this world and why Mitch is like that. Can I call her now? Or do you want me to say I don’t know some more?”

“Sorry.” You look down at your hands. You always seem to say the wrong thing. You go to tuck your chin against your chest, determined not to say anything else for a while, and forget about the antlers. The weight of them nearly pulls you all the way to the ground and you have to strain to get your head back upright. “Ow.”

Cam doesn’t turn around. He holds his hand over the mirror, breathing deeply. The blue glow filters into being around his fingers and drips down to the mirror’s surface. When it touches, it’s like the fogginess disappears. The glass is perfectly clear. “Genevieve,” Cam says. His magic flashes when he finishes saying her name. The glass clouds over again and Cam slumps back into his seat. “She didn’t answer. We’ll have to try again--”

“What do you want?”

You twist so quickly that, this time, you do fall over, antlers banging painfully against the carpet. You look up to see a woman staring at you, brows drawn heavily over purple eyes. You get the impression of sharp cheekbones, brown, braided hair and a lot of disdain before Cam slips between the two of you, blocking your view.

“Genevieve,” Cam says. “Hi.”

You hear Genevieve snort. “You didn’t call me to say hi. Why are you calling me and not Mitch? He’s your handler.” She practically spits the last word and you can imagine her dark lips curling in disgust. You feel a little bit of tension go out of you. She clearly doesn’t like Mitch.

“Mitch used abyssal magic,” Cam says. You sit up and scoot over so you can keep your eye on both of them. Cam raises his chin. “Isn’t abyssal magic the enemy?”

Genevieve looks at him consideringly, eyes sliding to you and back again. She hums. “Some have that sort of black and white approach to it. The organization, however, doesn’t believe in good or bad magic. They only believe in balance. Their agents have been known to dabble in it when it suits them.”

“And you?” Cam asks.

Again, Genevieve looks at you. “Maybe I’ll tell you if you have a good explanation for why you’ve got a fae boy in your room.”

You shiver under her stare. It’s got a weight to it you’ve never experienced before and you find yourself not able to meet her eyes. Still, you don’t like the accusation in her voice. “I don’t think my sexual orientation is any of your business,” you blurt out.

“Sexual orie--” Cam repeats and closes his eyes. “Not gay, Finn, fae. She thinks you’re a fairy which is bizarre because you’re human.” He turns back to Genevieve. “I awakened today and he was there. The whole field we were in grew flowers and Finn grew antlers.”

“You awakened?” Genevieve is suddenly right in front of Cam, her hand clamped around his chin. She pulls his head up so she can stare into his eyes, seemingly not hearing his protest. Her mouth parts. “You awakened quite a gift, Cameron. I’ve never met a Healer before, even on my world.”

“You can let go of my face now,” Cam says. He jerks away from her and rubs at his jaw. “I’m not a Healer. Finn grew antlers! I’m pretty sure he wasn’t born with them.”

“You brought him in sync,” Genevieve says. She once again looks at you, but this time you get the sense she’s studying you instead of judging you. She hums again. “This world once boasted one of the most magically powerful populations in the universe. Those species died out, but their souls and powers remained. It looks like—Finn, was it?—It looks like Finn is one of those souls. It probably runs in his family.”

For some reason you find yourself thinking of your brother. Your brother who can see ghosts and always seems to know exactly when you’re going to call to check up on him. Your mouth is dry. “My brother can see ghosts. You’re saying he’s like me, then? Fae?” Not crazy. If he’s not crazy then he gets to come home. Your heart beats fast in your chest.

“Daryl can see ghosts? And you believe him?” Cam asks. He points accusingly at you. “You made fun of me for playing Dungeons and Dragons for like a week!”

You ignore Cam. “He’s fae?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Genevieve says. She props a fist on her hip. “This world is a lot more powerful than I guessed if you guys still have fae souls running around. No wonder the Abyssal Realm is making a beeline straight for you.”

“That makes sense,” Cam says, nodding like he knew it all along.

“He thought it was because the carnivore world is evil,” you tell Genevieve. When Cam splutters, you grin. You’re in a lot better mood, even with the antlers, now that you have concrete proof that your brother isn’t crazy.

“You believe in good and evil,” Genevieve coos. “That’s so cute.”

“No,” Cam says defensively. “Finn’s lying.”

“Fae can’t lie.” Genevieve smiles and reaches out to pinch his cheek. “It’s okay--it means you have morals. That’s why I can trust you.”

Cam’s mouth slams shut over whatever he was going to say next. “So you’ll help me then?”

“Help us,” you correct. You’re feeling a little awkward, being the only one sitting on the floor. “I can’t live with antlers forever.”

“The antlers are easy,” Genevieve dismisses with a wave of her hand. She backs up until she can lean against the door.  She presses her lips together. “They’re part of you. Just will them away.” She points to Cam. “You, on the other hand, need a lot of help. I promised Mitch I’d train you, and I will, but that’s about all I can do. I’m not a mechanism like you. My powers don’t work well against the Abyssal Realm.”

Cam furrows his brow. “What’s a mechanism?”

“Oh boy.” Genevieve’s shoulders slump. “Mitch was supposed to tell you about that. Damnit. Has he told you anything? Magic systems? The Abyssal Realm’s power?”

Mutely, Cam shakes his head. “He just  said I had to save the world. That’s it.”

Genevieve lets out a slow, shaky breath. “Wow. That’s not ideal. I’m not the right person to explain these things. I’m not a mechanism.” She pushes off the door and starts to pace in small, tight circles. “Why wouldn’t he have told you about this? His organization gains from your success, so why--” She stops and whirls on Cam. ‘What has Mitch done? What has he told you?”

“He tried to kill me,” you pipe up from the floor. You wince when her focus falls on you. “But the ground saved me.”

Genevieve looks like she’s about to explode.

“Finn’s not great at explaining,” Cam says, stepping in front of you again. “Let me.”

You frown and fold your arms as Cam launches into the whole story. You're great  at explaining.  You have no idea what he's talking about.