E.L.F. - White Leaves Read online

  Connelly just let him go, grateful for the moment of peace. His briefcase was open in an instant, latches thrown back, lid up, and laptop extricated. Then, promptly ignoring the hustle and bustle of the peoples in the terminals, Connelly was cruising along. He logged in to the secure networks of the FBI’s few files that actually could be accessed outside of the Pentagon and quickly ran a search for Christopher Crowe Stevens -hunting for addresses, any run-ins with the law, phone numbers, credit history, or any out-of the ordinary purchases. Anything at all that would give him any hints at possibly calling Stevens a suspect. That way, when he met with Deputy Director Farsing, he might be allowed to return to Seattle and continue the investigation. He knew it would take more than a possible suspect that no one else had bothered to consider, but he concentrated on this for now.

  Up came the information. Pictures of progression through time, files, finger prints from birth, signatures. Everything he ever could have wanted to know was there before him, waiting at his fingertips, but nothing out of the ordinary jumped up to stand out for him. Everything was typical except for the fact that after winning the gold Christopher Crowe Stevens taught adolescents archery during the summer at the University of Washington, as part of a goodwill and publicity move for the publication of a book he’d written about archery’s finer points.

  And just like that, what Connelly believed to be a landmine was dropped into his lap. He glanced around, making sure the officers were still preoccupied. They were, but officer Keenes’ coffee was already ordered. He was paying. He would be forced to wait for his cup to be handed over upon preparation, but he was very close to coming back. Connelly’s fingers worked swiftly.

  He dug into the file on Stevens’ archery tutoring, looking for the names of any students he might have taken on more seriously after the good will contribution for the youth of western Washington. He also dug up the ISBN of Stevens’ book, “How to Shoot Like a Fantasy” with a second window.

  “Like a Fantasy, eh?” Connelly grinned lightly. E.L.F. was a fantasy name. Interesting coincidence. He snagged a pen, jotting down the number of the book on a loose leaf in his briefcase. There might be credentials or acknowledgements or mention of any students that might stand out in the crowd as exceptional candidates for either being capable of murder or likely to be sympathetic towards or involved with E.L.F.

  He glanced towards the barista again. Keenes was on his way back. Connelly scrambled, jotting down Stevens’ address and phone number before closing up his notebook. He lived in Enumclaw, roughly an hour south and slightly east of Seattle. He set his computer aside into his briefcase, fitting it snugly in place and closing the lid as he folded up his notes and stuffed them into his breast pocket for safe keeping. He waited for Keenes to approach, then set about latching up his briefcase, finishing just as the officer came to stand over him.

  “All finished?” Keenes asked.

  “Yes, what timing.” He commended Keenes slyly. “Thank you.”

  “The wife’s in her third trimester.” He lied, making sure to carry his trench coat slung over his hold on the briefcase in his left hand as he promptly stood. Keenes wouldn’t likely pick up on the fact that Connelly wasn’t married, nor that he couldn’t have possibly had a wife with child, even if she was in her third trimester, nor even if he was married. He’d been in Seattle for two years. He had to chuckle silently in thought as Keenes smiled and waved his left hand, showing him his wedding band.

  “Enough said.” Keenes answered back. “I’ve got three myself. I know how they can get that far along. It’s a good thing you answered her messages, trust me.”

  “Oh, I know.” Connelly smiled, following as Keenes gestured away to his boarding. He boarded flight 519 out of Seattle, non-stop, first-class on the Concord. It would be a shorter flight than he’d anticipated, for which he was indeed grateful. The sooner he got through his meeting with Director Farsing, the sooner he could hope to be reinstated and fly back to Seattle to pay Mr. Stevens a visit… with a warrant.

  Chapter 8

  Prince Athaem touched the bare skin of her slim shoulder through the split in her hospital gown’s sleeves, drawing her away from awe of the dark beauty of the world of the Elves, the world that earth was, fully beyond the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge, the world earth either was supposed to be or had once been. Shannon didn’t have any idea which, however, now she understood why fantasy stories always depicted Elves as moon-loving creatures. This place was so beautifully alien. It was all forest and darkness and blue toned as if twilit at midnight.

  Slowly she turned about. Athaem beckoned her to proceed back the way she’d come, where Deh Leccend was already leading way up a forest trail as it rose amidst the massive trunks. Beyond the rise was brilliant cool light, fanning out and jumping up in wide rays through the wood, framing and darkly silhouetting Deh Leccend’s already black-cloaked frame.

  Topping the rise, the little elf paused to wait.

  Miraculously, there was no doorway back to her world any longer. Athaem had closed it, and only empty space remained.

  “What is this place?” She asked, breathless. Her voice echoed softly and she touched her lips in surprise. Her tongue felt changed, hung, as though it had a mind of its own, and that mind was steadfastly refusing to break the silence of this tranquil forest’s sounds.

  “This is Addl’laen” Athaem answered. “This is our world.”

  “Is it always like this?” She asked softly.

  “Yes.” He answered simply after a moment’s study of her face. “Addl’laen is eternal twilight, between your world and the void of dimensions you cannot fathom beyond the third.”

  “It’s beautiful.” She admitted helplessly. She could find no other words in her considerable vocabulary, but despite her life’s knowledge, she felt quite stupid by comparison to these Elves whose grace she was only just beginning to realize she could not truly fathom.

  “Where is Addle Lane in relation to earth?” She asked.

  “Addl’laen is the great mother, Earth as you call her, beyond the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge. This is she as she once and always has been, in truth.” He smiled, gesturing again for her to lead away and follow Deh Leccend.

  “The Veil of the Leaf’s Edge?” She asked. Naturally, she’d never heard of such a thing.

  “Yes, child.” Athaem answered, beginning to grow impatient. “I’ll answer more if you would but walk with me.” He offered his hand, and she surprised herself as she took it without hesitation.

  Shannon followed, waiting expectantly for his talk as they walked this well worn pathway up the hill to where Deh Leccend had continued on and disappeared.

  “Try to think of the earth you know as the center or core of a sphere, though not in the physical sense. Try to imagine beyond three dimensions into four and more.” He paused.

  “The Veil is a creation of my father, Lord Dunesil of the Elvine. We call this state of being of the mother’s existence, Addl’laen. Around earth, separated, but co-existing in the same space and time. There exists the Veil. It is what your physicists and greatest mathematical minds might call a fourth dimension, a different plane of existence. My father, Dunesil Llaerth, separated us from the world you know to protect the great tree from the wrath of the Wyrms and worse, millions of years ago. We named it after Her.” He trailed off, eyes lost immediately upon touching the topic.

  Shannon studied his ever-youthful features in wonder. What on earth he could see with those old, ever young eyes, Shannon could only fail to imagine. But she tried to picture some sort of cataclysmic confrontation between wyrms and this great tree.

  “Beyond the Veil lie yet more dimensions, more layers to the sphere, many that even we cannot comprehend. And the outermost plane, you might consider as a void, a loophole back to the beginning again and a doorway into other places. Inside the center, thereby, in the other direction from the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge, is the stasis of the Powers of the White Leaves.” His explanation was very concise for a
ll the complexity of the concept it presented. Shannon found herself understanding implicitly all that he said, but for what certain things were named to be without being described. She was more fascinated for now with his eternal youth than what he had to say.

  “How old are you, Athaem?” She asked.

  “We do not age, child.” He answered simply. “But if you were to count the revolutions around our sun that I have been alive, as your kin doth, as I am one of the seven princes of Lord Llaerth, then you might call it sixty-four million, one-hundred-two thousand and ten years.” Shannon was taken aback. Not only did she feel dumb by comparison to these grand people, but minuscule as well. She was literally a speck of dust in the scheme of Prince Athaem’s life alone. She could only imagine how old his father, Dunesil, must be.

  “And what about Deh Leccend, the Black Leaf?” She then asked, nodding ahead to the vanished little elf. “How old is he?”

  “Oh, he is very old.” Athaem answered emphatically. “They all are.” He added thoughtfully. Shannon could only then imagine what it meant for one so old as Athaem to say someone else was very old by compare.

  “Like, how old?” She asked quixotically, dark exotic eyes wide with wonder.

  “He has been since the beginning. They all have.” He answered again, looking down with highly arched brows to see if that explained it. It clearly didn’t. Shannon wanted to know in terms of years, but then, since the beginning sounded quite a deal more than a matter of revolutions around the sun.

  “The Black Leaves were the first leaves to grow from the great tree when it first sprouted from the great mother.” He went on to sate her curiosity. “There are no number of years to count before the branch called the Elvine came along with the birth of my father and my mother, three hundred million years before I was even conceived. Does that answer your question?” He asked plainly.

  “So, he’s old.” Shannon said glumly, for while it answered her question, it wasn’t all that she’d expected it to be. “The tree must have been pretty old to begin with, I imagine.” She added thoughtfully, lowering her eyes to their path as the crest of the rise drew nigh.

  “Must have been?!” He asked bewilderedly. “She still is.” Athaem emphasized his final word on the matter. Shannon’s next question died on her lips as the land descended away before her in the most glorious vision ever described by a muted gasp of awe. Before her, Athaem beckoned.

  “Behold, Shannon Hunter of humyn kind, Addl’laen, the Great Tree of Life, and all of Addl’laen, home of the Elvine.”

  She could only stare and gape. The land fell away in a steeped hillside only to rise slightly anew where there towered the greatest of all trees in this magical world.

  Its bark gleamed purely of silver light, marred only by the gargantuan shadows of its ruts and creases. Its roots ran sprawling away in every direction like white rivers before disappearing into the earth. It dominated the entirety of the subtle rise below, which sprawled over an area that must have been anywhere between five and ten square miles. The thickness of its trunk was easily more than a thousand feet. It very well could have been more than half a mile in diameter, and its height was unparalleled. It seemed to become the very sky of the world with is sheer scope, as it dwarfed skyscrapers and made minuscule of the Elvine city in its entire sprawl below, situated just to the left.

  The great tree stretched on high, grand gleaming boughs splaying wide to envelope all Shannon could see, trapping its own inner light and sheltering all of her smaller companions who were still greater than the most massive of trees Shannon had ever seen. All about her base, but kept well back from her rise was a gleaming silver gate, which held at bay the innumerable silver towers and white buildings of the Elvine. To tshe right lay a body of water, a lake that danced and shone complacently of silver sparkles from the radiance of her glory as she leaned far out over it in a lightly twisted fashion.

  Shannon made another subtle sound, flabbergasted. It was all she could muster. Where before she thought she’d seen beauty upon arrival within the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge, now she knew true loveliness. Simply seeing gorgeous tree called, Addl’laen, stirred something within Shannon, like she’d felt when touched by Deh Leccend’s gaze at first, only this time it was radiant with warmth and a loving sensation she couldn’t describe with any word other than nurturing.

  “Come, child.” Athaem beckoned. “My mother and father wait.” Without hesitation, she slowly offered her hand to his sure guidance, unable to take her eyes from all that existed here until it was necessary to watch her footing as they descended.

  Ahead she could see Deh Leccend’s dark figure, ambling smoothly down the hill, escorting them where there was no need. Down through endless tree-lanes they passed, and there were many of the Elvine who stopped to stare back at her in as much wonder as she felt for them. The looks forced her to realize her appearances. She looked like a dirty little wretch by comparison to the kin of Athaem. They were all so beautiful, if a bit alien, and all of them wore blonde hair like silk and were of pale skin, just like in stories. Shannon clung to herself, trying desperately to cover her simple ugly hospital gown and preen her messy head of ratty, dirty-looking dreadlocks.

  “Do not fear your appearances, humyn.” Athaem chided. “You will be given chance to cleanse yourself and garments shall be brought for you to choose from.”

  Shannon only blushed further. She tried her best not to worry for her looks, and fumbled at focusing on following Athaem who followed Deh Leccend at length, weaving his way through the gleaming buildings toward the tallest among them. It stood nearest to the Addl’laen, resting atop the crest at the edge of the great tree’s subtle, sprawling rise, and opposite its leafy bulk from the waters of the pristine lake. It was capped by a tremendous razor-thin spire, a single great spike, and descending from either side of it ran the towering silver fence that ringed the great tree with its protective light.

  Into the halls of the palace of Llaerth she was led distantly by Deh Leccend, who had disappeared from sight, only to be given witness to yet more nature. The high, thinly arched doors stood ajar, guarded by only a pair of perfectly rendered statues of Elvine sentries, and within the palatial spire she bore witness to springs and fountains and all manner of beautiful landscape. The ceiling was incredibly high, the interior almost entirely open, and its light sheltered full glens and glades. So massive, but so empty, it made her wonder if there was anything else to it.

  “Where do you sleep?” She asked dumbfounded.

  “Why, are you tired?” The Prince asked.

  “No.” She responded. “I was just asking.”

  “Oh. We do not have need of sleep.” He revealed. “We sleep only to dream, if and when we choose.”

  Shannon went quiet again, realizing it would have to have been an obvious answer, and that it was therefore a dumb question. The prince had brought her to the left, and after a fair stroll down the far side of the rise, to a spring which steamed, and spilled over its beginnings like an infinity pool into many others. Little falls and streams ran away on this far side of the palace’s rise, feeding the pools and down to the brief country below and a greater body of water that wafted up to the high ground with the scents of salt and sea. It all rested within a towering succession of knot-wrought, and knotted together, white gazebo-like structures open to the ever-night sky.

  A breeze came in upon her through the great openings of archways and high glassless windows, but it did not leave her breathless any longer. Somehow, Shannon felt as though she’d caught up to the moment and all that continually unfolded before her. She had a sense there was no point in being continually dumbstruck, for there was sure to be yet evermore to see. She was about to start asking questions, but Athaem gestured to the waters.

  “Bathe, Shannon Hunter. I shall return.” Before she could even turn to speak, he was already walking away. She thought to hold him here with those questions that began edging into thought, but held her tongue and let him go. She needed a
moment for rest and considering her newfound sense of understanding for her world. Time to herself would give her that, and the warm waters might ease her into readiness for the next surprises.

  She thought she’d been left alone, but when she started to remove her hospital gown, she caught sight of the shadow out of the corner of her eye. At the entrance to this place, stood Deh Leccend like a guardian. Where he’d come from was unknown. She’d lost sight of him when he’d entered the palace far ahead of the prince and herself, but that he was there like a ghost disturbed her.

  Deh Leccend, the Black Leaf, didn’t do much of anything. He simply stood where he was while she eyed him. He did not watch her so much as he generally regarded her presence. He was like a machine, always. He blinked only occasionally, and spoke only when spoken to. She studied him back for a long moment before it was apparent he wasn’t doing anything other than what she saw. Harmless enough, but certainly unwelcome were his eyes.

  “Excuse me.” She said when it became clear he was not going to let her out of his sight, and she immediately presumed he was ensuring she could do no harm to this place.

  “Is there something wrong, milady?” He asked flatly from his comfortable distance.

  “Are you just going to watch me?” She shot back incredulously, challenging him.