by Jamie Hawke
“I literally didn’t understand a word you just said,” he told me.
I glanced at my phone and frowned, realizing it was already almost eleven, and told him I had somewhere to go.
“Um, yes, you do,” he said. “We’re both seeing Will Wight talk about his latest Wuxia books, hello? Hoping to get a signature.”
Damn, was that at the same time? For Will Wight I could push through, I told myself. I made it over to Hall A with Chris and found our seating, and he waited anxiously while I sat there feeling really weird. I wondered if I was going to throw up. My vision was blurry, my stomach rumbling. Had I even remembered to eat? I couldn’t be sure. Sitting in the chair, I was feeling drugged out and tired, but even when I closed my eyes… nothing.
“Sorry, I gotta…” I didn’t even finish, just stood and brushed past Chris, heading for the door.
“What the hell?” he called after me, but stayed there. No way in hell was he going to miss a presentation by his favorite author.
A few of the people a couple of rows back laughed as I passed, one even standing with his finger through his fly, like a dick hanging out. If I wasn’t feeling like shit, I probably would’ve punched him. Nah, who was I kidding? That wasn’t my style. But maybe flipped him off, at least. Instead I just gave him a kind of wave of my hand, and was out of there.
My head cleared once I was out in the open again, but it was like walking when you’re slightly drunk but still trying to look sober. Everyone seemed to be having a fun time, laughing, watching performers. There was a group dressed as pirates and singing old pirate songs. I would’ve eaten that stuff up, if only I’d been able to sleep the night before. I’d ruled out anything Crazy Lady had done, thinking it must’ve been something that happened before she bit me. Maybe in my drink at the bar?
There was the booth, right ahead of me. I saw a white swan symbol on a cloth hanging down, and Goth Chick standing with her back to me. Walking up to her, I said, “I’m here.”
She turned and it wasn’t Goth Chick after all. This was another woman, probably nineteen at most, wearing a black cloak, giving her a sort of Kylo Ren look. Except that underneath it she was cute, with a sort of pug nose and beady green eyes.
“Oh, you’re not the one I spoke to yesterday,” I said. Of course, I would’ve said something much more clever if I wasn’t feeling like someone had squished a lemon in my brain.
She smiled in that way that doesn’t show teeth, picked up a paper and pen with a clipboard, and said, “You’re in for the morning session?”
“How long does it take?” I asked.
“The rest of your life,” she replied with a wink.
“Meaning, if it’s successful…” I rolled my eyes. “Right, I get it. Sales. But this little test/nap thingy?”
“An hour, but two if you prefer to sleep longer. Lots of spouses get tired, want to unwind without going all the way back to their hotels or whatever, so we’re getting a good response rate. You better hurry and decide if you want to get a slot.”
With one head turn to look out over the convention hall, feeling a sense of vertigo and flash of pain in my shoulder even though I knew there was no injury there, I said, “I’m in. Definitely. Whatever you’ve got, just help me sleep.”
“Will do,” she said then pointed to the form. “Just sign there and print your name.”
So I did, and soon I was following her out through the back of the hall and into one of several trailers in the back parking lot.
“This is where the test is?” I asked.
“It’s easier than renting space in the hall,” she replied, and gestured for me to lead the way.
“And the connection to LegendFest is…?”
“Simply that creative people often have harder times sleeping, and we find the type of people who attend these events to be extremely creative. It can go both ways—some people are creative because of a lack of sleep, others are always feeling excited about their next project, so they can’t sleep. Like Christmas, you know? Waking up to get that present.”
“Actually, yeah,” I said. “I get it, I mean, not in the present sense as much, because that wasn’t my upbringing, but—”
She frowned. “No? Religious thing?”
“Money thing. After the first couple of times of getting really excited and tearing off that wrapping paper only to find a pair of socks and stuff like that, we weren’t quite so excited anymore. Still pretended to be, of course.”
She pouted. “And now?”
“I paint, or sketch, mostly. And yeah, sometimes I have something in my mind I can’t seem to get out, even if I’m supposed to be sleeping. But right now, this? Not that.”
Seeing that I wasn’t going to lead the way, she took the stairs in front of me and went up to the trailer door, knocked, and waited. The door opened to reveal the woman in black, Goth Chick as I’d started thinking of her.
She gave me a very concerned look, glanced around, and then said, “Get him in here. Quickly.”
The one with the cape and hood removed them as she gestured me in, and underneath she was wearing a nice green skirt and matching top, revealing skin on her thighs and belly in a way that worked quite nicely for her small frame.
I had been starting to feel better already, but now, seeing that look on Goth Chick’s face as she motioned me to a seat in the cushioned area behind a small table, I wasn’t so sure. Another glance around showed I was the only one.
“Everyone gets their own trailer,” Goth Chick explained.
“Oh.” I sat, pursed my lips, then asked, “At the hotel last night. You were there, right?”
She glanced my way, then back at a machine she had. “Sure, I stayed at a hotel.”
“I mean, you saw me. You didn’t get on the elevator.”
“Me?” She shrugged, making adjustments. “I think I was looking for somebody, then got a call. Maybe that’s the time you’re talking about? I’m sure I’d remember if I ran into you at the hotel.”
She put a special emphasis on the ‘you’, and I cocked my head, wondering what that could mean. Only, that motion brought the slight vertigo feeling back again. I did, however, notice several old figurines along the edge of the trailer’s counter by the microwave.
“You’re into those characters?” the smaller lady asked, nodding toward the mermaid figure nearby.
“No,” I said. “I mean, whatever. Honestly, the originals were way cooler. Modern stuff, I don’t know, it’s too… comfy.” Ugh, I was hating myself, trying to sound cool.
She, however, was nodding and smiling like I’d just said the most intelligent, thought-provoking thing in the world. This was the type of girl I could get to like.
“This is for real though?” I asked, still groggy but my nervousness starting to win out. “I mean, I’m going to take a nap here, with you two just… watching me?”
“Just go along for the ride,” the petite one said as she handed me a pill. “Could be fun.”
“Fun,” I said, glancing around. “What kind of pill is this, exactly?”
“Like melatonin,” the petite one said. “We’ll monitor you with this machine. And get this—some people say that after only an hour, they feel like they’ve rested all night.”
“Get out of here,” I replied, thinking how perfect that would be.
“Ready,” Goth Chick said then gestured me toward the bed on the opposite side of the room.
Sleeping with two attractive young ladies in the trailer with me was a bit nerve-racking in itself. What if I drooled? Had an erotic dream and got hard? Moaned one of their names? The possibilities were endless, I thought as I took the pill and gulped it down with the glass of water Goth Chick handed me, then laid back.
Oh, except I didn’t know their names, I realized. So at least I didn’t have to worry about that one. None of those worries affected me for the next hour though, because as soon as my head touched the pillow I was out. Not much of what followed stuck in my mind, but there were feelings o
f bathing in warmth, like liquid sunlight. The sensation of flying, along with the bliss of a thousand fairies running their hands along me, and I think some fairy tale characters showed up in some of my dreams but couldn’t be sure because the moment that happened after was so confusing, I kind of forgot where the line blurred between sleep and waking up.
When I opened my eyes, at first everything was too bright but then my vision cleared and I blinked, trying understand where I was. It was all a haze. Then I processed that I was seeing Goth Girl, but now she was wearing a red cloak with a hood, and she had a dagger tucked in her belt. The petite lady walked up to check on me, and I rubbed my eyes, confused, earning an uncomfortable smile from her.
“They’re real,” she said, reaching up and touching one of the two horns that rose up from her forehead. She didn’t look demonic, exactly. She had more of a sprite feel to her. She smiled and held out a hand, and that gesture put me at ease, to a degree. Despite feeling completely rested, I was still trying to figure out if I was in a dream or if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Why the costumes all of a sudden, if that’s what they were? Was this all to mess with me?
Suddenly I sat up, realizing I wasn’t in the trailer at all, but in some sort of lab. There were other people moving about, including one who had green skin and a witch’s hat, another who looked like the Nutcracker, and one who was wearing flowers and carrying a wand.
“Where am I?” I asked, trying to hide the nervous cracking in my voice. “Why—why was I moved?”
“Jack,” Goth Chick whispered, staring into my eyes. “Do you believe in fairy tales?”
I frowned, shook my head, and laughed nervously. “Like in real life? Of course not…” Only, as I said it a strange sensation took hold of me, and I realized I was seeing a green aura around this lady. Looking at the others, it was the same. “Am I high? What’d you give me?”
“Not high,” she said. “You’re experiencing a manifestation of your ability to see who’s real and who’s a Myth. You see, everything you’ve heard in fairy tales? It’s all real, Jack. Well, versions of it. We’re as real as you are, and we need you to save us.”
It was hard not to laugh, equally hard not to run. I stared, confused. Judging by the serious look in her eyes, she believed everything she was saying. I didn’t want to appear to be rude, but I realized that I needed to find a way out of there.
4
First step, run. I stood, desperately looking around for an exit, and noticed the others all staring at me.
“Don’t do it,” the petite woman with horns said. “Every Protector has the same thought as you at first, but the sooner you accept what I’m telling you, the quicker we can get you trained up.”
“I’m just… gotta…” I took a step but she moved to block me, Goth Chick closing in on my other side. “Move out of my way, lady.”
“Pucky,” the horned lady said.
“As in… Puck,” I caught on, giving her a skeptical look. “Excuse me for calling that bullshit. And you,” I turned to the other one. “Red Riding Hood?”
“Red is fine,” she replied. “Sometimes Pucky goes by Robin, named after her great grandpa, believe it or not.”
“Not,” I said, and made a dash for the closest door and past Pucky, since she was the smaller of the two.
Big mistake.
She caught me in two steps, grabbing me by the back of my jacket and pulling so that I fell back, my legs flying out in front of me. I landed on my ass with a thud. Damn, that hurt—and would probably leave a bruise on my tailbone for a day or two. She knelt over me, using her other hand to grip the front of my shirt, and stared into my eyes with an unwavering gaze.
“Don’t do that again,” she said. “Hurting you isn’t… I mean, that’s not…”
“She’s not into that stuff,” Red said, walking over to join her and pulling her dagger, which she pointed my way. “I, however, get off on it. So try to run again and you’re fucked, got it?”
“The hell?” I protested. “Am I a prisoner here, or this Protector thing? Because I gotta say, it feels like the former.”
“Only if you run.”
“Stop it,” Pucky said to her companion, then pulled me up with a quick jerk. Looking up at me, she said, “We need you, and fast, which is why we can’t afford to let you run off. You’re not a prisoner but you have to listen.”
“Since I have no choice…” I gestured for her to go on with a circular wave of my hand.
“Have a seat,” she replied, and pulled me back to the chair.
A man who looked very much like a bear—large and covered in hair— along with another who was wearing a turban and carrying a long, curved scimitar, both approached to stand behind Red.
“We have a problem?” the one with the turban asked in a sinister voice.
“Not yet,” Red replied, sheathing her blade.
They grunted and started to walk off, but Pucky turned and said, “Sinbad, Papa Bear,” and waited until they’d paused to look her way. “Keep an eye out, will you? Tell the troops. Now that the Protector’s been named, we might have trouble.”
With a nod, the two large men moved toward a couple of the others to spread the word. Pucky and Red focused on me again.
“Sinbad?” I shook my head then laughed. “This is fun, okay. Sure, but it’s not going to do much for helping me sleep, so I should really be—”
“Again, you’re not going anywhere,” Red said. “Pucky, let’s get it over with.”
“Right.” Pucky pulled up another chair, sitting on it with her legs folded in a very ladylike position that, because of her short skirt, actually distracted me from all of this craziness. As nuts as these ladies were, they were still damn good to look at and right now she had a lot of leg showing. She noticed my eyes roaming and smiled, leaning in. “Up here, Protector.”
“You keep using that word…” I protested.
“Because you have a role. You’ve been chosen.”
“How so? Why me?”
“We weren’t certain,” Red chimed in. “I mean, you were drawn to the sword—”
“Excalibur,” I nodded, intrigued.
She smirked. “Not the real one, but it had enough of the original’s essence to draw in potential protectors. And you were drawn to it, no? Felt it calling to you.”
I stared, not wanting to answer that.
“Well, I saw that you were,” she continued. “But that’s not enough. Our test would’ve been the confirming factor, but they found you first, so that did it.”
“Still, I wanted to be sure,” Pucky chimed in.
“There was no need.”
“Well,” Pucky shrugged, giving Red an annoyed glance. “Did you see Sharon actually bite him?”
“I saw Sharon,” Red replied, equally annoyed. “And how Jack looked. I talked to others who, as much as they weren’t sure what they saw, told stories that involved his dick being out for some reason,” she paused to give me a distasteful glance, “but otherwise confirmed he might have been bitten.”
“Show me,” Pucky said, turning back to me.
“My… dick?” I asked, still focused on that part of the story.
Both women laughed then composed themselves again.
“No,” Pucky said. “As much as you might think I want to see that, I’m here on a bigger mission—”
“Bigger?” Red said with a grunt, trying to hold back a laugh again. “How would you know?”
“Oh my…” Pucky shook her head then held up her hands. “Let’s go back a step. Jack, can you show me where you were bitten?”
I was full-on blushing at that point, I was sure, so was relieved for the change of subject. Lowering my jacket and then pulling at the collar of my shirt, I showed them my shoulder.
“It was here,” I said, “but… as you see, I don’t know. I thought maybe it was all a dream or something.”
“No, no dream. And, I hate to ask but you got me curious. Why, exactly, was your dick out?”
/> Red stifled a laugh again, then returned to her glare, though now I knew there was more to her than just being stern.
“Yeah, about that.” I shifted in my seat, feeling very awkward at the idea of the topic at hand with these two. “What’d you call her…. Shannon?”
“Sharon,” Red said. “The Big Bad Wolf, some call her. Or Wolfy, if you want to piss her off.”
“Like me with Robin,” Pucky said. “Not a name I would’ve ever selected for myself.”
“Especially when they also call me Robin,” Red said, “But that’s annoying for entirely different reasons.”
“Right, so… the Big Bad Wolf.” I frowned, processing this, and said, “I’ll stick with Sharon, for now. She tackled me in the bathroom, when, you know, and the door didn’t lock properly.”
“And somehow it was still out when you ended up in the stairwell?” Pucky gave me a skeptical look, but shrugged. “I hear they have minds of their own.”
Red chuckled, nudging the other lady slightly in a playful way. So they weren’t always bickering, I thought. Studying people around me was kind of my thing as it helped me get into my art, really understand the figures I was painting. Something of a hobby, and right now I was trying to focus on that and how I would capture the essence of these two—anything, really, to get my mind off the insanity they were spewing forth.
Of course fairy tales weren’t real. Of course no Big Bad Wolf named Sharon had bit me, and I wasn’t some protector.
“Right, moving on from the weirdness of all that,” Pucky said, picking up on me being uncomfortable.
“Can we get back to this Sharon character?” I asked.
“She likely bit a few, but maybe not,” Pucky said. “Many die, if bitten by the likes of her. But she must have sensed something in you, maybe somehow been able to smell the protector in you.”
“And who exactly is she? Doesn’t sound like the wolf stories I’ve heard.”
“Many of our real existences are quite different from those stories,” she countered. “And in this case, quite true. Sharon used to be one of us. For some reason, though, the hunt for our kind drove her to the other side. She was too mad at the fact that humans would turn on us like that, after—believe it or not—practically worshipping our kind for so long.”
