Page 21 of The Witches Catalogue of Wanderlust Essentials (Natural Magic #2)
Chapter 11
The Here and Now
I t’s just a normal donut run. Same as usual. Nothing to be nervous about, Will told himself as he stepped into the void.
Porting into The Bunny Hole donut shop in Laguna Beach, California, was not only familiar, it was simple. The shop was a well-established international porting hub, which meant it was used by many porters. The ley lines leading to and from the location were not only well anchored, they were also well worn. The shop even had a dedicated back room full of mirrors that smoothed out arrivals and departures.
Just so long as there wasn’t a children’s party happening there at the moment, which there probably wouldn’t be. They mostly rented the back room out on weekends. Will had learned that the hard way. Fortunately, Ordinary children were surprisingly okay with people suddenly emerging from mirrors. He’d played it off well. The Ordinary kid’s parents had even given him a generous tip, assuming the fantastic “stunt” was a perk of the venue.
Will wasn’t headed to The Bunny Hole to party or earn tips. For once, he wasn’t even going for the incredible donuts. He was heading there for one reason only.
He desperately needed to find and speak with Burnside Porter.
Will had never experienced a glitch like the time slip. He kept bouncing between fear and excitement as he set off on his journey. He leaned into the excitement harder. There was no point in letting fear get the best of him. Back up and onto the horse. Or in his case, into the void.
His first step into the nothingness was reassuring. The emptiness was warm and thick around him, like a primordial ooze. It wasn’t threatening, at least not to him. So long as he didn’t linger or stray from the path. This time, as in the past, the path was clear. He could trace the ley lines with every slogging step.
Will knew that although his feet felt like they were dragging, his corporeal being was actually moving with incredible speed. The weight of each step was compounded by the distance. The farther the destination, the more and heavier the steps to get there. But Will was an exceptionally strong porter. There was no destination on this earth that he couldn’t reach in ten paces and a matter of minutes.
And so it still was. In another two steps, he was stepping through the mirror and into his beloved Bunny Hole. Suddenly, and predictably, he realized he was feeling famished once again. Porting burned all kinds of calories. It was difficult to keep up with the deficit.
The back room was empty, tables folded and stacked in the corner. He could hear music playing on the radio out in the shop. Something mindless and pop-y. Other than that, the shop felt quiet, which made sense for the hour.
It was early afternoon, so naturally the day was winding down. The daily special donuts would be gone by now. He’d have to choose from the more run-of-the-mill varieties. Will inhaled deeply, sucking in the welcome scent of coffee that greeted weary travelers at any and all hours. Even when the shop was closed for regular business, the coffee never stopped brewing in the enchanted pots. The aroma mingled with the sweeter smells of yeast and sugar.
Will stepped out from the back room and joined the short queue at the register, feeling relief and disappointment simultaneously. He’d arrived without a single glitch, hitch, or bump. It was reassuring to know he could still port as usual. But now that he’d experienced the time slip, he was dying to know if he could do it again.
He scanned the cafe for Burnside unsuccessfully. No sign of the guy. Will placed his order for a dozen donuts hastily. As soon as he had the box in his hands, he popped the first one—a plain glazed sugar donut—into his mouth. He did this even before he chose a table to sit down at. It took some of the edge off his disappointment.
It was a shame that Burnside Porter wasn’t here today. The only other people in the cafe were a couple of Ordinary nannies, gossiping with each other while their infant charges slept in the bassinets of expensive-looking prams.
All the other tables were empty. So he didn’t have to worry about not recognizing the elder porter.
The first few times he’d seen Burnside at the Bunny Hole, Will hadn’t realized it was him. With his long gray hair, unfashionable leather sandals, and an apron covered in pottery slip, Burnside blended in seamlessly with the local Ordinaries. The only accessory missing was a kale ginger smoothie. But eventually, Will had sussed him out.
Two things gave Burnside Porter away. The first was his extra long pinky fingernail that he liked to use as a pointer. And the second was that “special” sparkly blue tooth.
As Will slurped the filling from a jelly donut, his thoughts strayed back to Zani. He still felt her frustration about her situation almost as if it were his own. It wasn’t like him to carry other people’s emotions like this. It felt like an unexpected burden he couldn’t set down.
It was annoying.
Why did she have to be so cool? Why did he feel so compelled to rescue her? Not that she thought she needed to be rescued. And not that he’d succeeded. He’d only made a fool of himself thus far.
He wiped the crumbs from his fingers and his beard, and contemplated which donut to eat next. Boston Cream or Caramel Custard? There was no need to rush. He may as well take his time. If he could pull off another time slip, he’d make it up on the trip back to The Mudpuddle.
An electronic sounding bell chimed on the door, causing Will to look up from his donutic reverie.
He was delighted to see a familiar, stooped figure shambling in. The slight man wore a beret and walked with a mild limp and was none other than Burnside Porter himself. Will waved enthusiastically at his old professor.
It took Burnside a moment or two to recognize Will. But as soon as he did, the older man burst into a gappy smile, revealing his silver- and gold-toned teeth, as well as one sparkling canine, cut from a brilliant, ethereally blue stone. It sparkled brighter than a diamond.
“Porter!” Burnside called out enthusiastically in a raspy voice that immediately trailed off into a hacking cough. The elvish bakers behind the counter looked at him disapprovingly.
Will jumped to his feet and thumped Burnside on the back. He was a bit surprised to see the old porter was using a gnarled cane, something he hadn’t noticed before. “Easy there, old friend,” he said.
“It’s just the Santa Anas,” Burnside gasped. “Devilish winds. They always trigger my asthma.”
“Right.” Will nodded. “Won’t you have a seat with me? I was actually hoping to bump into you today. I’ve already ordered one of everything in the case. Can I get you a drink to go with?”
“Some tea would be lovely.” Burnside nodded appreciatively. “That and my good ol’ Porting juice should fix me right up.” He winked as he reached into the breast pocket of his fringed leather vest and drew out a small silver flask.
“I’m so glad I ran into you!” Will gushed. He was so pleased to see the man that he had the urge to hug him.
“Of course, of course, I knew you’d be here.” Burnside winked. He waved his flask and swayed alarmingly to one side. But a second later, he steadied himself with the cane in his other hand.
“Come, let’s sit down.” Will placed a protective hand on Burnside’s back, escorting him to the table.
Once settled in the booth, Burnside made quite the production of choosing the “right” donut.
“Now, I never eat strawberries on a weekday, and I had sprinkles yesterday. It’s bad luck to eat chocolate on a Thursday, you know.”
“But today is Wednesday, Burnside,” Will gently reminded him.
“ Here it is…” Burnside nodded knowingly. “But it’s always Thursday somewhere, Will. And I don’t have to couch this with you. As a fellow porter, and my disciple, you know. We’re never truly here or there, when or where, are we? It’s so difficult predicting when the dang Thursdays might creep into your Monday morning.”
“Yes, about that…” Will considered this to be as perfect of a segue as he was going to get. “There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”
“What’s that?” Burnside asked.
He seemed to have settled, at long last, on a glazed lemon donut, and was turning his attention to doctoring his tea. He poured in a few prudent drops of whatever the purple liquid in the flask was—Will suspected whisky—and sniffed it. Unsatisfied, he screwed off the cap again, turned the flask upside down, and dumped the entire contents into the steaming cup of tea. He safely stashed the flask back in his pocket before turning his attention back to the hot drink. Carefully, he blew on the surface of the brew before slurping it up loudly. This drew another less than flattering look from another one of the elves. Burnside responded to the censure with an enthusiastic belch.
“Right. Where were we?” Burnside asked. “Oooh! Lemon!” He folded his arms in front of himself and beamed down at the lemon donut as if he were discovering the treat for the first time.
“Time slips.” Will jumped into the conversation with both feet. “I seem to remember you talking about them in class once or twice. I was hoping you could tell me a bit more of what you know, and perhaps give me a few tips for navigating them?”
“Ah. So you’ve leveled up, Porter! I thought that might be the case when I suddenly got the urge for a donut,” Burnside said. He bit into his lemon donut and washed it down with another swig of tea. The more he drank, the more lucid he seemed to get. “Don’t worry. I’m here to help you make it make sense.” He patted Will’s hand reassuringly. “Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what happened? Then I can answer your questions.”
“Well…” Will considered his options quickly, then lay his cards out on the table. “Yes. That’s what this is about. It happened earlier this afternoon. I slipped during a fairly simple port. I lost an hour. And now … I guess I’m wondering if you know whether I can do it again? I thought I’d start by trying to get home a few minutes from when I left.”
“Impossible.” Burnside shook his head and took another bite of donut.
“What do you mean, impossible?” Will set his donut down again, frustrated. “Weren’t you the one always saying how time travel was possible in our lectures?”
“Yes, but it’s not a skill that’s innately accessible to porters. We need a catalyst to travel via temporal lines. Think of it like paying a toll. No catalyst, no access.”
Burnside dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He reached into his pocket next and pulled out a small notebook. Licking a finger first, he leafed through the notebook until he finally settled on a page with a numbered list. He retrieved an undersized pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his back pocket and slipped them on. They were crooked and battered, a sure sign of having been sat on frequently.
“Ah! Here we go!” Burnside said. “Just a standard list of questions regarding the alleged time slip. Hope you don’t mind.” He raised his eyes to look at Will, but did not pause long enough for him to answer before continuing. “Were you under the influence of any drugs, alcohol, potions, or enchantments that might have altered your consciousness or caused hallucinations at the time of said slip?”
“No!” Will said vehemently.
“Have you recently experienced any health problems such as insomnia, narcolepsy, sleepwalking, delusions, dementia, or any other conditions that might affect your perception of reality?”
“I have not!” Will was beginning to feel a bit defensive.
“Is it possible that friends or colleagues might have collaborated to play a prank on you?”
“Nope.” Will shook his head.
“Okay, this last one is very important.” Burnside looked up with a grave expression. “Are you positive you set your clocks correctly?”
“Enough, already!” Will exclaimed indignantly. “I’m sure it happened. As sure as can be. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t sure!”
Burnside slid the notebook back into his apron pocket.
“I’m sorry, but I have to make sure your story checks out, Will. Many a porter have gotten confused when traveling through different time zones.” He patted Will’s hand. “It happens to the best of us.”
Will drew his hand away. “I am not confused, nor was I traveling through multiple time zones. I simply arrived at my destination an entire hour before I left.”
“Listen.” Burnside studied Will intently. “I believe something happened. But I still say it will not happen again on your way home, or on your way anywhere else today, no matter how hard you try.”
“Why not? If I did it once, I should be able to do it again!” Will jutted his chin out defiantly.
Burnside slurped his tea again. “You’d think so, Will. But then you’d be mistaken.” He leaned in closer to whisper his next tidbit of advice. “I can tell you don’t possess a catalyst at present. I’m afraid you will not get very far without a stone.”
“A stone?” Will plucked a third donut from the box. “What sort of stone?”
“An exceptionally rare and special stone. One of the rarest stones on the planet,” Burnside said. “Celestial sapphire. Not found in any gem shops or jewelry stores. There’s only a few of them in the deepest of the deep blue seas. Good luck getting your hands on one.” Burnside’s lip curled back as he laughed, exposing his veritable jewel box of golden and silver teeth. It wasn’t the precious metals that held Will’s gaze. He was now fixated on the otherworldly glow of Burnside’s sparkling blue fang.
“Like that stone you’ve got right there?” Will pointed at Burnside’s face.
Burnside clapped a hand over his mouth. When he lowered it, he took another long gulp of his drink. “Funny thing. I sometimes forget the thing is there,” Burnside admitted. “Other times I’m not sure if I’ve got it, or it’s got me.” He rubbed a finger over the tooth.
“Where did you get it?” Will asked.
“It’s a family thing. A gift for my servitude to the royal family in the land where my family is from. It’s been passed down my line for many generations.” Burnside closed his mouth and pursed his lips. He stared off into the distance. Will wondered if he was done talking. But then a moment later Burnside spoke again, more quietly this time. “My stone has granted me unprecedented freedom to live my life nonsequentially, in whatever place or time I choose. But that freedom has not come without a cost.”
“What land are you from?” Will asked. It had never occurred to him to ask. He’d suspected that Burnside was some sort of shifter, as all porters were halflings of some sort. Burnside showed no signs of being part Fae, like Will. And Will had never gotten a witch vibe from him, either. Some kind of shifter, then? From where? There was nothing about Burnside’s accent or appearance to suggest his origin.
“That’s neither here nor there.” Burnside waved away Will’s question. “My father was from Brooklyn.”
“Hmmm.” Will studied the man, wanting to press for more information but sensing that now was not the time. “So what do you think happened to me? Why did I slip?”
Burnside sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you tell me what happened, and I’ll do what I can to help you figure that out?”
Will had the oddest sense that Burnside was growing uncomfortable with the question. It felt a bit like a game of twenty questions, where one participant of the conversation knew far more than the other, but couldn’t share that information. Nevertheless, he described the time slip to Burnside.
“It was cold,” Will explained. “And hard. I didn’t sink into the nothingness like I normally do. I slid across some type of surface.It was almost like everything was frozen.”
“Right!? They don’t call it a time slip for nothing!” Burnside slapped the table enthusiastically. Hard enough for one of the elves to glare at him and tsk. “Sorry. Sorry!” He hunched his ears up to his shoulders and held his hands up. “I got carried away.”
“It was so cold and slippery,” Will recounted. “I was afraid I would lose my bearing. In fact, I nearly dropped the thread. I was moving so fast.”
“How did you slow down?”
“Snow plow.” Will waved a hand dismissively at his feet. “I learned how to do it as a kid.”
“And it worked?” Burnside looked impressed.
“Obviously.” Will gestured to himself. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“I suppose you are,” Burnside acknowledged begrudgingly. He checked his watch again anxiously. It wasn’t merely to check the time. Will could tell his action was compulsive. Burnside reached out to touch him.
“You’re here, and I’m here, and it is now. But the NOW is always the tricky part,” Burnside said. “It’s tricky because you’ve been here before, sitting in this same booth, perhaps.” He reached into the box of pastries and pulled out a flaky croissant, made from well-laminated dough. “It’s a bit like this croissant here, Will. There’s so many layers.” Burnside rotated the roll and peeled apart the flakes. “This layer is HERE. But there are a million different NOWS all stacked up together. Sometimes it’s easy to pick them apart, and sometimes they all merge.” He popped the fluffy center part of the croissant in his mouth, chewing and savoring it. Finally, he swallowed.
“There’s more,” Will went on. “Do you want to hear about the way the truth was frozen, floating all around me like giant snowflakes? I was afraid I’d get too much on me and go mad!”
“I believe you.” Burnside held up a hand. “And there’s no way you went through that without being exposed to radically high levels of absolute truth. You must have an unusually high tolerance for it.” Burnside eyed him appraisingly. “The only thing missing is a catalyst.” Burnside tilted his head back and studied Will.
“Maybe it was a glitch?” Will suggested. “Sometimes these things can happen during a celestial event, right?”
“I see you’ve read my books.” Burnside nodded approvingly. “That’s a remote possibility, but there have been no celestial events in the past week. So where or what else was it? Were you wearing an amulet? Some kind of gemstone bracelet?”
“Of course not! I know the rules of porting!” Will frowned.
“Then it must have been on your passenger!” Burnside surmised. He stared straight at Will, a little too pointedly. “Who were you porting?”
“I was alone,” Will lied. He knew that confidentiality rules prevented him from sharing an answer with Burnside, and he knew Burnside knew as well.
Burnside continued to stare knowingly at Will, a single eyebrow raised. Will squared his shoulders and pushed back his sleeves, refusing to budge from his story. Finally, Burnside ended the standoff by sighing and speaking again.
“Then I’m not sure what to say, Will Porter.” Burnside shrugged. “You’d best turn out your pockets and find that stone if you ever want to time travel again.”
Burnside drained the last dregs of his drink and then used his cane to push himself sideways out of the booth. He stood up slowly and smiled toothily, flashing the sparkling canine once more.
“’Twas a pleasure, Will Porter. I hope you find what you’re looking for, be it here or there, now or then. Do come back and let me know when you do?”
As the old man hobbled back out onto the street, Will laid his head in his hands for a moment. What had he been thinking? He would not untangle all of this in one day.
The least he could do, in the meantime, was stop by the Singapore street market to pick up some freshly made noodles.