Jordan wakes up with her blanket propped into a ball and her left foot hanging outside of the hotel bed. The first thing Jordan did when she escaped the buzzing airport, was book a hotel. The hotel is nice. It includes breakfast, which Jordan has missed considering it is 2PM already, and the room is fairly clean. Not that Jordan plans on staying inside the whole day.
Last night her dreams were plagued with the name of a café: 'Sandwi(t)ch'. She doesn't know why, and most of the time such things don't bother her, but with all the strange dreams she has had the last couple of weeks, Jordan can't be so sure anymore. She grabs her phone and googles the name. She raises her eyebrow, Jordan was certain it didn't exist.
'Sandwi(t)ch. Famous for their special and mysterious sandwiches, which will be sure to brighten up your day.'
Guess Jordan knows where she will be eating her lunch, or rather, her breakfast. She slips into Damon's shirt, and she stands there for a minute, wondering what her friends are up to, and if they are doing okay. She hopes so.
Jordan hopes all she can, but a little voice in the back of her head keeps on nagging; telling her that her family is dead and it is all her fault, because she ran off. Again. But I told them. I told them I was going away.
It doesn't matter. The words don't reach her. All that reaches her is the guilt, and it finally sinks in. Jordan isn't a fighter. She is a runner. She is afraid. So afraid that is shakes her to her core. Jordan's breathing picks up, and it doesn't take long before she feels like she is suffocating. The flower patterned walls are closing in on her; her vision blurs until all she can see is a bunch of colours overlapping one another.
Jordan grabs some money off the wooden nightstand before she escapes the room. She runs down the flight of stairs; disappears through the whitewashed double doors of the hotel. The fresh wave of air hits her like a punch in the face, and Jordan is able to calm herself. The wind blows her hair around, and she can see her reflection gazing at her in the window of a car.
She rips her eyes away from her reflection, no longer able to stand the fright swirling in her eyes. A flickering of red neon colour from across the street catches her vision. Sandwi(t)ch, it spells.
Jordan chuckles at the bitter irony of it, and she wonders if the owners of the café know that the legends about witches are true. Probably not, she didn't even know about them until a few weeks ago. Before she can grasp the idea, she is running towards the café, not caring about cars, bicycles, or trespassers.
The café looks deserted, but cosy nonetheless. From the outside, the café fits right into the modern theme of the street, but when Jordan pushes open the door, making a bell ring, it seems like she has entered a whole other world. Candles and flowers decorate every table and bells and crystals and little lights are hanging from the ceiling. Jordan feels as if she has just walked through the closet and arrive at Narnia. She stares in wonder at the photos that stick to the wall. The photos are breathtakingly beautiful. Flowers, castles, flowing rivers, animals, places she doesn't even now exist are printed on the walls.
"Do you like them? I've made them myself when I was travelling a few years back." A woman behind the counter speaks up and she smiles at how consumed Jordan is.
"They're amazing," Jordan breathes.
"Thank you. Would you like a drink, hon?"
Jordan nods her head absently. "A glass of water please." Jordan takes a seat in the corner of the café. She sinks into the pillows of the sofa, and she wonders if the woman would let her stay here. Compared to the hotel, the hotel is a big pile of garbage, which says a lot, considering the room isn't even that bad.
The woman puts Jordan's glass of water on the wooden table – which is decorated with tiny frogs and salamanders – and hands her a menu as well. Jordan gives her a smile of gratitude, and when she looks up Jordan sees an ivy-decorated name tag saying: Melanie.
It doesn't take Jordan long to figure out what she wants. She orders a mozzarella sandwich with some fries. When Melanie walks off, Jordan settles back into the couch, closing her eyes for a minute.
When Jordan opens them again, she jumps up in fright. Not because her food has arrived, but because someone has taken the seat in front of her. With wide and innocent eyes she stares up at the man in front of her, and the first thing that comes to mind is 'timeless'. Timeless, the best word to describe him. He wears a very dark grey suit with a popping red tie; his left leg is draped elegantly over his right leg, with his hands fold on top of his knee. A scruffy beard decorates his chin and jawline, and Jordan can't tell if he is in his early twenties or late thirties.
"Hello, my name is Evan," the man – Evan – introduces himself with his hand outstretched.
Jordan takes his hand with caution. "Jordan."
"I know." Evan gives her a warm smile.
Alarm bells are going off inside of Jordan's mind. Who is this guy? And how does he know who I am?
Evan sees the disdain on Jordan's face so he calmly elaborates how he knows her, "I knew your mother."
If Jordan wasn't freaked out before, she certainly is now. She blinks with her eyes repeatedly, and cocks her head forward in the direction of Evan, "Come again?"
Evan smiles at Jordan's bewilderment. "Your mom. I knew her. She used to come here all the time, she loved this place. When you walked in, I knew who you were right away. My apologies if I have thrown you off guard, but the resemblance between the two of you is truly striking, and I had to be sure it was you and not your mother who had waltzed into the café."
Jordan nods her head, still not fully grasping the idea of someone knowing her mom. "I-I don't know what to say."
"That is quite alright, I don't mind talking for once."
Unbeknownst, Jordan inches closer, wanting to know everything about her mom. From her second name, to what she used to order at Sandwi(t)ch, to what she was, and if it was linked to the supernatural part of Jordan.
"Your mother was one of a kind. She was the kind of person who comes into your life and leaves a stamp on everything you consider yours, and then she disappears without a trace and you begin the wonder if she ever was there at all. But even though you are wondering, you realise you can never forget, because she reflects in everything you do or touch. She was, to say the least, remarkable, but that was not the only special thing about your mother."
Evan looks at Jordan curiously, waiting for some sort of sign that she is aware of what she is, and he can't say he is disappointed when he sees her eyes widen even more and ears perk in interest.
Jordan can feel her heart thundering in her chest, and it almost feels like it wants to break free from its cage. Does he know what am I? What is he?
A polite and welcoming smile rests on Evan's face, and Jordan feels her trust for him grow with each passing minute. The air around him screams of kindness and good intentions, and it doesn't matter to Jordan if he is a vampire, werewolf, witch, or whatever other creatures roam the earth.
"Your mother was a nymph."
That is enough to let all hell break loose inside of Jordan's head. Her thoughts are spinning and buzzing, making Jordan dizzy. Her skin feels electrifyed, and all the hairs on her body are standing straight up. Nothing makes sense, but at the same time Jordan feel like she is finally coming home. All the unexplainable occurrences in her life suddenly make extremely good sense. Her connection to Elena and Jeremy, her calm and collected nature, the red thread of her life is slowly morphing into a straight and very clear line.
"Does that mean - ?"
Evan nods his head, and Jordan's head disappears into the palms of her hands, "Marilynn would be so, so, proud of you Jordan."
Slowly, Jordan pries her hands away from her face like she is peeling off the mask the previous seventeen years of her life.
But the chair in front of her is empty, and if Jordan doesn't know any better, she would say he vanished into thin air, but she does know better. She does know better than to believe whatever the surface offers her on a silver plate, and she hates it. She wishes the surface would be enough to keep her satisfied, but it doesn't anymore. Jordan has jumped into the water and has sunken so deep she can't even see the surface anymore. She has entered the world of vampires, nymphs, cures, and immortality, and right now she feels like Alice: lost in Wonderland. And it is up to her to figure out her life as she goes, turning left and right, up and down; she navigates herself through the maze with no way of knowing when it ends.