Шеннон Мессенджер - Keeper of the Lost Cities

He considered that for a second. “Okay, fine—but I don’t know much. My father sent me to find you. We’ve been looking for a specific girl your age, and I was supposed to observe and report back to him, like always. I wasn’t supposed to talk to you.” He frowned, like he was disappointed with himself. “I just couldn’t figure you out. You don’t make sense.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re . . . different from what I expected. Your eyes really threw me off.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” She touched her eyelids, suddenly self-conscious.

“We all have blue eyes. So when I saw them, I figured we had the wrong girl again. But we didn’t.” He looked at her with something like awe. “You’re really one of us.”

She stopped and held up her hands. “Whoa. Hang on. What do you mean, ‘one of us’?”

He glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he spotted a crowd of fanny-pack-wearing tourists within earshot. He pulled her toward a deserted corner of the parking lot, ducking behind a dark green minivan.

“Okay—there’s no easy way to explain this, so I’m just going to say it. We’re not human, Sophie.”

For a second she was too stunned to speak. Then a hysterical laugh escaped her lips. “Not human,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Riiiiiight.”

“Where are you going?” he asked as she moved toward the sidewalk.

“You’re insane—and I’m insane for trusting you.” She kicked the ground as she stomped away.

“I’m telling the truth,” he called. “Just think for a minute, Sophie.”

The last thing she wanted to do was listen to another word he said, but the plea in his voice made her stop and face him.

“Can humans do this?”

He closed his eyes, and vanished. He was only gone for a second, but it was enough to leave her reeling. She leaned against a car, feeling everything spin around her.

“But I can’t do that,” she argued, taking deep breaths to clear her head.

“You have no idea what you can do when you set your mind to it. Think of what you did with that pole a few minutes ago.”

He seemed so sure—and it almost made sense.

But how could that be?

And if she wasn’t human . . . what was she?

S O . . . WHAT?” SOPHIE MANAGED TO SAYwhen she finally found her voice. “You’re saying I’m . . . an alien?”

She held her breath.

Fitz erupted into laugher.

Her cheeks grew hot, but she was also relieved. She didn’t want to be an alien.

“No,” he said when he’d managed to compose himself. “I’m saying you’re an elf.”

An elf .

The word hung in the air between them—a foreign object that didn’t belong.

“An elf,” she repeated. Visions of little people in tights with pointy ears danced through her brain, and she couldn’t help giggling.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Did you really expect me to?”

“I guess not.” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick out in wavy spikes—kind of like a rock star.

Could someone that good looking be crazy?

“I’m telling you the truth, Sophie. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Okay,” she agreed. If he refused to be serious, so would she. “Fine. I’m an elf. Am I supposed to help Frodo destroy the ring and save Middle-earth? Or do I have to make toys in the North Pole?”

He let out a sigh—but a smile hid in the corners of his mouth. “Would it help if I showed you?”

“Oh, sure—this ought to be good.”

She folded her arms as he pulled out a slender silver wand with intricate carvings etched into the sides. At the tip, a small, round crystal sparkled in the sunlight.

“Is that your magic wand?” she couldn’t resist asking.

He rolled his eyes. “Actually, it’s a pathfinder.” He spun the crystal and locked it into place with the silver latch at the top. “Now, this can be dangerous. Do you promise you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do?”

Her smile faded. “That depends. What do I have to do?”

“You need to take my hand and concentrate on holding on. And by concentrate, I mean you can’t think about anything else—no matter what happens. Can you do that?”

“Why?”

“Do you want proof or not?”

She wanted to say no—he couldn’t actually prove anything. What was he going to do, whisk her away to some magic elf land?

But she was curious. . . .

And, really, what harm could come from holding someone’s hand?

She willed her palms not to sweat as their fingers laced together. Her heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and her hand tingled everywhere their skin touched.

He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the parking lot again. “Okay, we’re alone. We go on three. You ready?”

“What happens on three?”

He shot her a warning look, and she scowled at him. But she bit her tongue and concentrated on holding his hand, ignoring her racing heart. Seriously—when did she become one of those silly girls?

“One,” he counted, raising the wand. Sunlight hit a facet in the crystal and a bright beam refracted toward the ground.

“Two.” He tightened his grip. Sophie closed her eyes.

“Three.”

Fitz pulled her forward, and the warm tingling in her hand shot through her body—like a million feathers swelling underneath her skin, tickling her from the inside out. She fought off a giggle and concentrated on Fitz—but where was he? She knew she was clinging to him, but it felt like her body had melted into goo, and the only thing keeping her from oozing away was a blanket of warmth wrapped around her. Then, faster than the blink of an eye, the warmth faded, and she opened her eyes.

Her mouth fell open as she tried to take it all in. She might have even squeaked.

She stood at the edge of a glassy river lined with impossibly tall trees, fanning out their wide emerald leaves among the puffy white clouds. Across the river, a row of crystal castles glittered in the sunlight in a way that would make Walt Disney want to throw rocks at his “Magic Kingdom.” To her right, a golden path led into a sprawling city, where the elaborate domed buildings seemed to be built from brick-size jewels—each structure a different color. Snowcapped mountains surrounded the lush valley, and the crisp, cool air smelled like cinnamon and chocolate and sunshine.

Places this beautiful weren’t supposed to exist, much less appear out of thin air.

“You can let go of my hand now.”

Sophie jumped. She’d forgotten about Fitz.

Her hand released his, and as the blood tingled in her fingertips, she realized how hard she’d been squeezing. She looked around, unable to make sense of anything she saw. The castle towers twisted like spun sugar, and something seemed oddly familiar about them, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. “Where are we?”

“Our capital. We call it Eternalia, but you might have heard it called Shangri-la before.”

“Shangri-la,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Shangri-la is real?”

“All of the Lost Cities are real—but not how you’d picture them, I’m sure. Human stories rarely get anything right—think of all the ridiculous things you’ve heard about elves.”

She had to laugh at that—and the sharp burst of sound echoed off the trees. It was so quiet there, just the gentle breeze brushing her face and the soft murmur of the river. No traffic, no chatter, no hammering, unspoken thoughts. She could get very used to the silence. But it felt strange, too. Like something was missing.

“Where is everyone?” she asked, rising on her tiptoes to get a better view of the city. The streets were a ghost town.