Shelf-Made Man

Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

I am a troll.

Even though Tobias and Alfie were out in the open, the words seemed to echo ominously around them, like thunder rolling in just before a storm. Alfie looked as if he’d been shot, and Tobias felt pretty much the same way.

Except for a teeny-tiny part of him that cheered silently, because finally he’d acknowledged who he was and what had set him apart from others for his whole life. He wasn’t just a weird guy who didn’t try hard enough to socialize with others. He was… something special?

But that meant he was apparently also inclined to be thuggish and cruel. And now the elf he’d fallen for looked both terrified and devastated, and Tobias didn’t want any of that. The little cheering voice shut the hell up.

With visible effort, Alfie straightened his back and lifted his chin. “You can congratulate your master for me. This was an especially devious form of torture.”

“My mas— No! I’m not working for Snjokarl. I’ve never met him and had never even heard of him until you told me. And I’d never harm you.”

Alfie’s eyes were as cold as ice floes. “You’ve been lying to me for days. I don’t believe you now.”

Shit. This was even worse than Tobias had feared. “I haven’t been lying. I didn’t realize it myself until this morning.”

“How could you not know you are a troll ?” Alfie spat.

“Because I didn’t even know trolls fucking existed!” Tobias roared back. “As far as I knew, they only existed in fairy tales and Tolkien’s Middle-earth.”

Alfie didn’t respond, but perhaps his expression softened a tiny bit.

Tobias lowered his voice to a more reasonable, less troll-like volume. “I told you that I’m adopted. I never knew anything about my birth family, and I certainly wouldn’t have suspected that they weren’t human. I’ve spent my whole life here, remember? Among boring, ordinary people.” He spread his arms to indicate the world as a whole—although maybe San Francisco wasn’t the best place to make this point. On the other side of the street, a person in light-up bunny ears and a tutu was descending the hill, arm in arm with a person wearing assless chaps, a fluorescent-green G-string, and a crop top. In late December.

After a few more moments of silence, Alfie slumped. “All right. But now that you do know, are you taking me to Snjokarl?”

“No!” This time Tobias was even louder. “I may be a troll but I’m not a monster. I care about you. I want to help you, and my identity has nothing to do with that.”

“But trolls don’t—” Alfie stopped himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do with this information.”

“I get it. Imagine how I feel.” Tobias crossed his arms. He understood why Alfie felt so negative about trolls. Tobias had very few good thoughts about them himself. But there wasn’t anything he could do to change who he was, and Alfie needed to understand that this wasn’t exactly easy on Tobias either.

And, speaking of trolls, standing out here arguing wasn’t the best idea. They might be attacked at any moment.

Tobias took a calming breath. “Look. We came here to get answers from Aunt Virginia. Let’s go do that, okay? Maybe she can find a safe place for you, and then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

The corners of Alfie’s mouth tightened, but he turned and continued up the hill, his gaze trained on his feet.

Tobias felt like shit. This was hardly the first time he’d been shunned or rejected, but those things didn’t usually happen at the hands of someone he cared about. He didn’t blame Alfie, but it still hurt.

A different concierge was on duty this time: a young person with a pixie haircut and an ugly Christmas sweater that coordinated nicely with the ugly Christmas decorations in the lobby. After hearing Tobias’s request, the concierge narrowed their eyes at him and Alfie. “The Countess of Contovello does not entertain visitors.”

Tobias heaved a sigh. “I know. But I’m her family and this is an emergency. Please tell her that Tobias is here, and?—”

“Your name’s not on the guest list. When residents are expecting guests, they let me know so the guests are on my list.”

“Right. But I like I said, this is an emergency. If you could just call her?—”

“That is not our policy.”

Before Tobias could tell them exactly what they could do with their policy, Alfie stepped forward and turned on his most engaging smile. “You’ll have to excuse Tobias. You know how trolls are. But it’s quite urgent that we speak with the countess. It’s a life-and-death matter.”

Nobody could have resisted that charm, and the concierge looked as if they might be starting to bend. “But we have a policy. It protects our residents’ privacy.”

“Of course, and that’s an admirable goal. Your employers must be very pleased with your diligence. It’s nearly Christmas, however. The countess is alone. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to ruin her only opportunity to see family this season.”

“No, of course not. But I?—”

“Just call her, please. I am certain she’ll be thankful that you did.” There was just a hint of imperative in Alfie’s manner that allowed Tobias to clearly see that he was indeed a prince.

Maybe the concierge saw that too, because they visibly conceded. “All right, I’ll call. But I can’t guarantee she’ll want to see you.”

Honestly, Tobias wasn’t too positive about that either, but this was the best he could do. He watched nervously while the concierge picked up the phone, murmured into it, and after a pause, looked surprised at the response. “You can go up. Apartment 14C.”

Alfie bowed to the concierge.

As they waited for the elevator, Tobias spoke quietly. “You were good at convincing them.”

“Diplomacy has always been one of my few true skills. Even though it failed me with Kol.”

The elevator arrived, but when they got in, Alfie seemed confused. “What is this? An anteroom?”

Tobias pushed the button. “An elevator. It?—”

“Elevator! So they’re real? I’ve always wished I could ride in one.”

“Now’s your chance.”

The car started to rise, and although it did so smoothly, Alfie gasped and clutched Tobias’s arm—then realized what he’d done and let go. That tiny drama made Tobias so sad he wanted to cry. But he kept his jaw set and eyes dry, and when they reached the fourteenth floor, he stepped out without waiting to see whether Alfie followed. If Alfie got stuck, that would be his own damned fault.

Alfie didn’t get stuck. He followed Tobias down the hallway and waited with him after Tobias knocked.

“Do enter!” called a familiar voice.

Everything was exactly the same as his visit several days ago, except now the air carried faint whiffs of cinnamon and balsam. Maybe Aunt Virginia had Christmas decorations tucked away somewhere.

She was not in the parlor, which was as dark as ever, but her voice carried from another room. “Do sit down, my boy. I’ll be there momentarily.”

“I brought, um, a guest.” He was met with silence.

Eventually, she said, “Whom have you brought?” He couldn’t tell whether she was angry.

Tobias glanced at Alfie but couldn’t read his expression in the gloom. “Alfred Clausen, second son of Claus Clausen. Um, King Claus Clausen, I guess.” And then he added, because why the hell not, “He’s an elf.”

Aunt Virginia came bursting into the room and strode past them much faster than Tobias would have expected from someone in her nineties. She flung open the nearest drapes, flooding that part of the room with sunlight and illuminating her appearance: tan slippers, emerald-colored silk pajama trousers, and a nubbly gray sweater. Her hair, straight and almost transparent, fell to her waist; she wore no makeup .

Alfie gasped and executed such a deep bow that he bent nearly double. “My Lady.”

After a moment of standing there stupidly, Tobias remembered his manners. “Thank you for seeing us, Aunt Virginia. This is Prince Alfred. Alfie, this is the Countess of Contovello.”

“Forgive me, My Lady, but you are the most stunningly beautiful person I have ever met. Please excuse me if I am somewhat tongue-tied.”

It was clear that Alfie wasn’t lying or offering false flattery—he genuinely appeared awestruck. Tobias was… well, a little jealous. Not that he had any right to be, he reminded himself. And he ought to be thankful that Aunt Virginia had let them in, especially since she seemed the only reasonable source of answers to his many questions.

Which reminded him.

“Aunt Virginia, did you know that I’m a troll?” Without him intending it, a bit of annoyance came through.

Instead of scolding him for his rudeness, she gave a small sigh. “Toby dear, would you please bring in another chair for your friend?” She waved toward the parlor door that led to the kitchen.

Although Tobias could have protested that Alfie was not his friend and pretty much detested him, he kept his mouth shut and hurried into the kitchen, which hadn’t changed one bit since he was a child. It was a very ordinary room, with those white laminate cabinets that had been so popular in the 80s. A bowl of apples sat on the counter, and there was an old console TV on a stand near the dinette set. An ache stabbed through him as he remembered sitting at that table with a glass of milk and a piece of fancy cake, leafing through a comic book while the grown-up talk washed over him like warm waves.

He grabbed one of the chairs and carried it back to the parlor, where Aunt Virginia and Alfie stood and silently stared at each other. When she took her customary seat, Alfie sat in the kitchen chair, and Tobias, as usual, got the inquisition chair.

Then everyone began to speak at once, a cacophony of questions, until Aunt Virginia held up her hand. “Please, boys. One at a time. And I shall claim privilege of the eldest and ask first. Tobias, how did you manage to return Prince Alfred to his true form?”

“Before I answer, you should know that some nasty trolls are after us. They’ve tried to get us twice, and they can track Alfie anywhere.”

She waved a hand. “They cannot enter here. I am sorry to hear you’ve faced such difficulties. It seems, however, that you have overcome them.”

“Tobias saved me,” said Alfie, maybe a little reluctantly. “He’s strong.”

“Indeed. Tobias?”

He told her the brief story, THC snickerdoodles and all, and she nodded as he spoke. “Olve tried many times,” she said when he was done. “But he was unable to restore the prince. I do apologize on his behalf, Your Highness.”

“It’s Alfie,” he said, shaking his head. “And I think Tobias saved my life.”

Everyone was being very polite, but Tobias wanted to scream. He clutched the arms of the chair hard enough to make them creak. “Aunt Virginia, can you please tell us what the hell happened? And how my mom ended up adopting a troll? And how Alfie can stay safe?”

“Very well. But before I begin, Tobias Hilmar Lykke, you must understand one thing very clearly: your mother loved you. She was proud of you. And she never once regretted that you were her son.”

He’d been trying to appear stern, but now he sniffled. “Thank you.”

“But he’s a troll!” Alfie interjected, and then looked sorry he’d said anything.

Aunt Virginia fixed him with a glare that made him wilt. “ I believe that the measure of a person lies not in their ancestry but rather in their actions. Tobias is smart and kind and loyal. He was a loving son who respected his mother and, when she took ill, set everything aside to care for her. He works hard. He has always made the effort to respect my eccentricities and to let me know I am in his thoughts. To the best of my knowledge, he has never harmed anyone unless necessary. He is my godson, and I would argue that he is equal to or better than any troll, human, or elf.”

Because Tobias had to look away and blink hard, he didn’t see how Alfie responded. In any case, he had Aunt Virginia’s esteem, and that meant the world to him.

With a final scowl in Alfie’s direction, she began. “All right then. The tale begins shortly before my second marriage.”