Dianne Salerni - The Eighth Day

“Oh, crap!” Jax suddenly understood why Giana had answered all his questions and then yelled at him afterward. He slumped into a chair and buried his face in his hands. “Oh, no!”

“Nice going, Pendare. You made him cry.” A.J. took his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling my mom.”

Mrs. Crandall smacked Riley upside his head with an oven mitt. “Why didn’t you bring him to me in the first place?”

“I thought I had it under control.”

Jax glanced around the Crandall home curiously. He’d always pictured A.J. living in a dump one step down from Riley’s house, but this was a nice place, clean and decorated with stuff that matched. A.J.’s parents weren’t exactly what he’d expected either. His mom was tall and sturdy, with very short hair and arms that might’ve been more muscular than Riley’s. She was wearing an apron, though. That and the oven mitt got Jax’s hopes up.

A.J.’s father stuck out his hand and introduced himself gruffly. “Arnold Crandall. Nice to finally meet you, son.” Jax extended his own hand cautiously, not sure if he’d be getting it back. Mr. Crandall was bigger and heavier than A.J., but in his case it was all muscle and no fat. With his buzz cut and gravel voice and a handshake that cut off Jax’s circulation, he reminded Jax of a drill sergeant. He and his wife both looked like drill sergeants.

“I didn’t expect him to start interrogating people on his own,” Riley was saying. “Melinda’s going to meet with him on Grunsday. I thought that was soon enough. Plus, like I told you before, I’m not sure how much to tell him.”

“Everything,” Jax piped up. “I want to know everything.”

“ Everything covers a lot of territory,” Mr. Crandall said. “If you’re not sworn on as Riley’s vassal, then some things aren’t your business to know.”

“What do you mean, vassal ?” Jax stared at the man blankly.

The Crandalls looked at each other, then at Riley. Mrs. Crandall raised her oven mitt again, but Riley sidestepped out of range. “ You try to explain it!” Riley said.

Mrs. Crandall moved her hands to her hips. “Sit down, Jax. I know this has been a shock, but if it’s any comfort, there’s dinner afterward. You could probably use a good meal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jax said eagerly. “I could.”

Riley flung himself into an armchair, looking chastised.

The Crandalls seated themselves across from Jax, while A.J. leaned against the back of Riley’s chair. “All right, Jaxon,” said Mr. Crandall. “You studied feudalism in school, didn’t you?”

Studied, yes. Learned? Not so much. But Jax nodded.

“Well, Riley is my liege lord, like his father was before him. I’m his sworn vassal, and so are my wife and son.”

“You’re kidding,” Jax said flatly.

“Not in the slightest.”

The liege lord slumped in his chair, picking dirt from beneath his fingernails. “It’s just a chain of command.”

Chain of command? With Riley in charge? Jax scowled. “My father wasn’t, was he?”

“Your father was independent,” Mr. Crandall said. “No clan, no vassals, no liege lord. Which is why, when he needed help, he came to Riley. And it’s why, for your own protection, you really ought to—”

“No.” Riley sat up. “His father didn’t want him sworn to me. I don’t want it. I’m sure Jax doesn’t want it. He goes back to his cousins as soon as he’s trained.”

Mr. Crandall looked like he was sucking on lemons. “Listen to Riley,” his wife said softly, and Mr. Crandall grunted and nodded.

Holy cow. He really is the boss of them!

“What about Niviane and Merlin?” Jax asked. “What does an everlasting forest have to do with the eighth day?”

Mr. Crandall ticked off on his fingers. “The real Niviane was a Britannic queen. The real Merlin was a spell caster from a race of sorcerers called the Kin. And what the stories call an everlasting forest is Grunsday—a place cut off from the rest of time. Niviane conceived of the idea; Merlin cast the spell, and—” He glanced at his wife and seemed to edit his words. “And more than a dozen Welsh clan lords contributed their talents and magic to make it happen. We Transitioners are descended from the rulers and clan leaders who helped cast the spell.”

“Welsh clan leaders with magic powers?” Jax scratched his head. It still sounded ridiculous.

“There are people with a talent for magic all over the world,” Mrs. Crandall said. “On every continent. Mystics and shamans and fakirs. We aren’t the only ones.”

“But who are the Kin?” Jax looked at Riley. “Are they the people who live only on Grunsday—like the girl?”

“The Kin are a race of people far more powerful in magic than most,” Mr. Crandall explained. “They arrived in the British Isles maybe three thousand years ago. Legends say they came down from the north, but I don’t know if anybody really knows for sure.”

Jax tried to picture a world map in his head and remember what was above the British Isles. He wasn’t any better at geography than history, but he didn’t think there was much.

“They coexisted with the native Britannic people for a long time. Kin families allied themselves with Welsh clans and adopted our customs, like taking vassals. But around two thousand years ago, some of the most powerful Kin clans started making war on Normals with their magic. They razed the countryside, enslaved the people, and might have eventually ruled the earth if Niviane hadn’t conceived of the Eighth-Day Spell to contain them and give the Welsh clans the advantage of seven days to every one of theirs.”

“Merlin was an Emrys, which was one of the more prominent Kin families,” Riley added. “But he and a few other Kin clans honored their alliance with our people, fought alongside us, and collaborated on the spell, even though they ended up trapped in the eighth day with the rest of their race. Merlin Emrys sacrificed himself for us. Not all the Kin are bad people.”

Mrs. Crandall said to Jax, “Melinda can explain more when you meet her.”

“Who’s Melinda?”

“One of Riley’s vassals. You’ll like her.”

Jax glanced around the room. “Are there any more of you? Vassals to Riley, I mean.”

“Just Miller.” A.J. cleared his throat.

“You won’t be meeting Miller,” Riley said. “He’s out of town. On business.”

From the sudden silence in the room and the stony look on Mr. Crandall’s face, Jax guessed that Miller’s business was not Jax’s business to know.

JAX TRIED NOT TOpounce on Mrs. Crandall’s dinner like a starving hyena, but A.J. and Riley didn’t hold back. Jax figured he’d better grab what he could before it was all gone, and dived for a chicken leg.

“Eat up, Jax. You look undernourished.” Mrs. Crandall glared at Riley.

“He eats everything in sight,” Riley protested, his own mouth full. “I can’t keep groceries in the house!”

Jax looked up, startled. He thought the exact same thing about Riley.

“Nobody can eat like a teenage boy.” Mrs. Crandall slung a ladle full of mashed potatoes onto Jax’s plate. “The pair of you together are probably like piranhas.”

After dinner, Mr. Crandall looked at Riley and jerked his head toward the door. Riley nodded and the two of them left the room. A.J. made a move to follow, but his mother ordered him and Jax to clear the dishes. “I cook. You clean up,” she said. “That’s how it works. And scrape the plates before putting them in the dishwasher, Arnold Joseph.”

“I do,” A.J. protested.

His mother smacked him with a wooden spoon. “Will you ever learn not to lie?”