Page 20 of Shelf-Made Man
“It’s a terrible memory. You don’t have to talk about it anymore.” Tobias figured he’d heard all the important parts anyway. Not that he really had a handle on how Alfie had ended up in this world, and as a doll to boot. He also had no clue how Alfie might escape his pursuers. But he hoped Aunt Virginia could help with that.
“It’s not that I don’t want to say more, Tobias. Ican’t, because I don’t really remember what happened. There was a lot of shouting. A burst of light? And then… then I was in your house and Ihurtand I thought you were a troll. I’m sorry about that part.”
“I’ve seen trolls now, and I know what I look like. I can understand your confusion.”
Alfie yawned noisily, which made Tobias yawn too. It wasn’t especially late, but they’d had a trying day, and Tobias wanted to get an early start. His eyelids felt heavy. And Alfie was so warm and sweet against him, socomfortable, as if the two of them had been made to lie like this. Also, he smelled remarkably like the peppermint milkshake that Tobias had enjoyed with dinner.
“We’ll get to San Francisco tomorrow and we’ll figure this out,” Tobias promised. “I won’t let Snjokarl get his claws on you again.”
“My hero.”
Those two good words floated around in Tobias’s head and eventually followed him into sleep, where he dreamed of castles and kings and beautiful elves. They were good dreams.
When he awakened at dawn, Alfie was nowhere to be found.
Tobias’s first, horrifying thought was that the trolls had whisked Alfie back to their world. It seemed unlikely they’d manage that without waking Tobias, but he’d seen a lot of strange things lately.
He was saved from hysterics when he noticed the piece of paper lying on top of his small suitcase. Thepaper had been torn from the motel notepad, and it contained a message written in spiky but legible cursive:
My dearest Tobias,
I am so sorry to do this to you. But I’ve put you in mortal danger. I cannot allow harm to come to you. The trolls will leave you alone if I’m not near you.
Thank you for being a true friend. You may think me foolish, but I do love you already despite our short time together. I’m grateful I’ve had the chance to love.
Yours always,
A
Instead of dissolving into hysterics,Tobias nearly threw a tantrum. With considerable effort, he got hold of himself and took a few deep breaths to clear his brain. “Think, Lykke,” he said as he hastily pulled on his clothes. “Where the hell is an injured elf going to go at seven thirty in the morning?”
Of course, Alfie could have left hours ago. He’d said he had good night vision. That was too dismal to even consider.
Tobias gathered his few belongings and ventured out into the cold. His car was still there, so Alfie hadn’t driven away; Tobias doubted he would have even known how. A glance up the empty street told him that none of the few shops or restaurants were open yet. Alfie could have hitched a ride out of town. Orhe could be hiding somewhere in town, in a shed maybe, or even inside someone’s house.
God, he could be anywhere.
“Think,” he repeated, turning a slow circle in the little parking lot. Talking to himself was better than doing nothing at all, he hoped. Better than giving up and never seeing Alfie again. Spending the rest of his life wondering what had happened to him, picturing him being tortured and killed, picturing him all alone in either one of the two worlds.
Up the street, there was a clock tower on the building that housed a bank and the local newspaper. Tobias stopped, stared at it, and knew it was sending him a message.Time. Now was the time. He could live in denial and resign Alfie to his fate. Or he could allow himself to accept the truth… and just maybe have some hope of finding the elf who loved him.
“I am Tobias Hilmar Lykke,” he said out loud. To the sleeping town. To the world at large. To himself. “I am the son of Isabella Lykke. I am the godson of Virginia Segreti, Countess of Contovello. I am a data engineer.
“And I am a troll.”
Chapter
Eight
“Iam a troll.”
Tobias repeated it because saying it out loud was a surprising relief. Maybe because the sky didn’t fall. Maybe because it could sometimes feel a lot better when you stopped lying to yourself.
He hadn’t been entirely honest with himself for a long time.
Ever since he was very young, he’d known he was different. He tried to chalk that up to the obvious things: He was adopted. He didn’t look anything like his mother. He was always bigger than everyone else his age. He was gay. All of that set him apart from many of his peers, but aside from the awkwardness of being oversized, he’d never minded any of it. He knew his mom loved him exactly as he was; she said so often, and it showed in her actions.
But he’d never asked her about his biological parents.When he reached adolescence, she’d offered to discuss the details of his adoption more than once, but he’d nervously shied away from the topic. He didn’t want to know where he’d come from because, deep in the back of his mind, he already knew: he’d come from somewhere very strange.
