by Bob Dattolo
She fell silent as I drove, not answering me for nearly a mile, “I can’t. Please don’t make me.”
“Okay. I understand. Or, I don’t understand, but I can appreciate the request. In light of that, let’s start over. Hi, my name is Ceri Pennaeth. What’s yours?” I seem to be doing this a decent amount lately.
She stared for the longest time before a tiny smile formed, “I’m Melissa Sothach.”
“Huh, nice to meet you, Melissa.”
“Likewise?”
“Have you been in the area long? Going to school here long?”
Her smile dimmed, “Three years so far. I came here just before freshman year started.”
“Where did you live before this?”
“I’d rather not say?”
I nodded at that. “I can understand that. I lived at the academy for about a month and a half. That’s in southern Pennsylvania. Prior to that I lived with my family.”
“How many…how many were in your family?”
“When I left? Seven, not including my parents. All told? There were 15 of us kids. I’m the only survivor other than my parents.”
She hissed, “What happened?”
“My parents? They’re evil bastards and were killing us one by one. They took out 31 FBI agents and the other six when I escaped. It’s been an interesting month and a half, especially since I had no idea I as even a mage prior to this.”
She sniffed, “You’re part fey, but you say you’re a mage?”
“Yeah? I mean, I grew up thinking I was a straight human with no magical powers. Then I learned that I’m a supernatural and then not even human. It’s a weird thing to try to understand.”
She snorted, “Yeah…finding out you’re not what you thought you were…I know that feeling.”
“How about you? Any brothers or sisters?”
“No. Just me.”
“How about your parents?”
She nodded slowly, “They’re…umm…they’re…we don’t talk much.”
I can’t smell lies like I’ve been told some others can, at least not yet, but that does smell like a lie to me. I just can’t figure which part would be the lie.
“What…what do you do in your spare time? Any hobbies?”
My change of questions threw her for a moment. “Not really? I read, but that’s about it. I take care of my…house, otherwise.”
“What about your friends?”
She shrugged, looking away, “I don’t really have any.”
“Syl won’t let you?”
She jerked back to stare at me, “How did you know?”
“I didn’t? It’s just sort of obvious that he’s controlling things. I just don’t get why. Not that I’ll ask about it. Beyond that…I saw you talking with people today, but if he was there, he totally stepped all over you. I’m sort of shocked that he’s allowing you in school.”
She looked away again.
“Is he trying to stop you?”
“N…no. Nothing like that.”
“Is he messing with you above and beyond what I’ve seen? Like with his magic?”
Her, “A little,” was nearly too faint to hear.
“Can you stop him with your magic?”
She had tears in her eyes again when she looked back, “I don’t have any magic.”
Uhh…what? “What do you mean? You’re a fey. Every fey has magic.”
She shook her head, “Not me.”
Damn, I don’t even know what that means. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask you about that. Let’s skip to something better? Where do I take you? I’ve just been driving here. It’s been miles, so I had to have missed a turnoff somewhere.”
Another head shake, “No…I’m…it’s coming up ahead? On the right?”
She pointed up ahead at what looked like a little turnaround on the side of the rural road. I pulled in, confused as hell about what she’s talking about.
“I’m sorry? Here?”
She unbuckled and grabbed her bag, “I can walk from here. Thank you for the ride.” She didn’t wait for my response before jumping out and pretty much running down a trail that opened at the side of the road.
“What the hell just happened?”
Since she didn’t come out and answer me, I decided to head home. I’m so confused. So very confused. None of this makes a lot of sense to me. Like at all.
Why did she get out there? There’s nothing on my phone nearby that I can see. I swear the land goes right into a protected area or something, and one that’s pretty big. Why did she run off like that?
And if she does live around here, how in the hell does she get to and from school every day if she walks? I have to think that she does it both ways. Her reaction when I pulled over tells me that she’s not used to people offering her rides, and sure as hell not used to them forcing her into the car.
What is Syl doing to her that has her reacting that way?
She doesn’t seem hurt, well, physically. Mentally? She’s a wreck. There’s something very, very off in how she reacted, and I just can’t put my finger on it. Like at all.
How and why would this be happening to her? I haven’t learned a ton from Mom…
I called her, finding her at her desk again.
“Daughter-mine?”
“Hey, Mom. Can you talk again?”
“I can. What can I do for you? Is this about your orc and goblin friends?”
“No…not this time. I guess I’m confused about someone else at school.”
“Do tell?”
“Did you know this school has two fey students?”
Director Fitzsimmons called out something to Sumi, which made it sound like they’re playing a game or something. I’m guessing the ancient vampire isn’t against having a little fun? How strange. It honestly makes me wonder what they did with the zombies I raised and gave to them. Especially the Cro-Magnon guy. Sure, they got a mammoth, dire wolf, and some sort of monstrously huge tiger as well, but the one is actually a human. Sort of. Granted, no personality there, but still.
“I heard a rumor to that effect, but I did not know for certain. I can’t say that’s the normal approach for a fey to take.”
“I bet. Umm…there are two. Syl and Melissa. Syl is crazy good looking. I think there’s something with Melissa. She’s not as good looking. There’s something about her. Anyway, they both seem decently nice.”
“Are you looking for a dalliance?” I could hear her smile.
“Uhh, no? Not really. Anyway, Syl seems nice, but then when he interacts with Melissa? She’s so sweet, yet he treats her like garbage. Always talking over her. She never gets to say more than a word before he starts talking, making her stop. The only time I heard her talking without him doing that was when he wasn’t there. Is that…is that normal?”
She made a contemplative sound, “I can’t say that it’s normal. Not very, at least. I have heard of that approach before. It rather cuts down on the person’s circle and weeds them out of the pack, so to speak. It’s not done often, since magic is always an equalizer.”
“She, umm, she said she doesn’t have any magic.”
She sucked in a deep breath, “Oh my. That’s…not good.”
“Why, though? So she doesn’t have magic?”
“The fey love two things above all else. Beauty and power. Family is a close third to that, but beauty and power always rule. With power being more important. If you’re powerful enough, you can force our society to find you beautiful. This girl, is she…”
“Umm, she’s good looking, but he’s gorgeous. She’s not even half as good looking, she’s pretty. It’s just that most of the fey I met are…other-worldly, if that make sense?”
“That does. That tied in with not having magic? I can possibly see people going after her. Not quite in the way you described, though.” She fell silent for a minute, “What are their names?”
“Umm, Syl and Melissa?”
She laughed, “No. You mentioned that. What are their last names
?”
“Uhh, why does it matter?”
“If we have a last name, and most do that deal with humans, it tends to mean something. Either to our people or to the person. So, for me, my last name means commander. We do not have one at birth unless our families already deal with humans a lot. Otherwise, it’s one name and possibly a note about who our parents are or where we’re from.”
“So, sort of like being called Robertson if your dad’s name was Robert?”
“Exactly. Now, their name?”
“Syl’s last name is Foxwood?”
She grunted, “That’s a familiar name, but not recently. The other?”
The director’s voice got louder just as I answered, “Sothach.”
“Rasphael, what is the folder on my desk for again?”
“That is trash.”
“Sorry, Mom. It sounds like you need to get back to work. I’ll let you go. I love you.”
“I love you as well.” Her voice quieted a little as I hung up, “The folder…”
Now what? I have no solid idea of why he’s treating her like shit. I’m also not entirely sure it’s my issue to deal with. Not that I’ll allow that to continue. I don’t see that one happening. Like at all. Possibly ever.
Like I said, I don’t like bullies. In the slightest.
When all was said and done, I didn’t have much time before I needed to head back out to pick up the girls. Assuming their parents allow them to do this. I think Tara might be okay, given what was said about her parents. I’m not sure about Marisela.
My debate about what to do for food for us came to a stop when I realized I didn’t have enough information available to figure out what they might like. I decided to throw in the towel and just hop back in the truck and head towards their places.
I never imagined that this would be my first day. Ever. How could you? I met some kids that I really like, but I almost got into a challenge with four of them. I’d rather not do that, but I seriously won’t allow them to go after Dave any longer. I don’t get how or why people think that kind of thing is okay. Are they that unaware of the shootings going on around the country? Of the challenges? Attacks with magic? Anything else? Our world is…violent, I guess. Yeah, if Dave goes after those four bastards, he’ll get his head handed to him since they’re mages, but that’s not the thing. Many supernaturals wouldn’t care if he came in with a gun and went after them. I wouldn’t, now that I’ve seen what is going on. Heck, I basically threw down the gauntlet myself, so you can see how upset it’s making me.
I guess it’s not anything to think about right now. I’m hoping Tara and Marisela are able to come over. I’ve literally never had a sleepover in my life. Granted, I sort of did at school because Steph slept with me pretty much every night, but that’s not the same. This would be a real sleepover.
It sounds like they’re in the same boat. Maybe their parents will be cool with it? Or…maybe not? Maybe Tara’s parents will come out and demand that I listen to their genius and see their inventions that are stupid?
I’m not sure I get that, but here we are. Mom knows about it, which means it’s a real thing. That must…that must be so hard. The species book talked about the difference in intelligence and made it sound pretty severe. So…is it better to be stupid and think you’re dumb? Or be intelligent and have parents that are stupid? That has to suck. On one hand your parents should be supporting you, especially at her age, but on another, she’s intelligent and that gives her possibilities and options that they’ll never have…she’s just constrained by the narrow views of others.
Unless we broaden things for her. I’m hoping we can do that.
Instead of picking up Tara first, I headed farther out to Marisela’s place, marveling that she walks this far every day. That’s…horrific. I can’t let her do this. Unless we really don’t get along or something. So far, we do, but it’s only been one day. Not that I’m seeing anything leading me to think that she’s some evil girl or someone that I wouldn’t want to hang out with. Same with Tara. They’re funny. Smart. Insightful. They’re everything I could want in a friend.
Much like Steph was…and now she won’t even talk to me.
I get it, I guess, Armand’s spell messed with her and she’s not quite on an even foundation yet, but it hurts. I thought we had something strong growing there, and…it’s not weathering the strain well.
Maybe she’ll come out of it. That would be nice.
The roads closer to Marisela’s place were just as bad as before. The driveway was, somehow, worse. Or so it seems.
The house is…still standing. I have to give it credit for managing to do that. I really do. It’s the kind of thing that you see in history books from the great depression or something like that. Maybe coal-country when things started to change, and money became a non-entity for too many people.
It’s a dilapidated tar-paper shack, just like I remember. It’s mainly raw plywood with tar paper stapled or nailed to it, but it’s torn in so many places that I’m not sure the place is water-tight. The roof has some sort of plastic sheeting on it, which is probably the only thing stopping water from getting in. There’s a rusty and bent stand-pipe coming out of one side, which makes me think it’s the stove or a chimney…or maybe both.
I don’t see a powerline out here. I do hear the sound of running water off to the left and behind the place from where I’m standing. That and the worn path towards it makes me think it’s the source of their water.
Please don’t let that be the case.
Except…I’m pretty sure that’s an outhouse over there. A real outhouse. Yeah, they use them in the between lands in a lot of places, but…this is America.
There aren’t any windows, not real ones, at least. I think there’s an opening in the front, but it’s blocked with wooden shutters, so I can’t tell if it really has glass in it. My guess is no.
It escaped my notice before, but the front door isn’t really a door. Or, it works as a door, but it’s not a door. It’s a barely hinged piece of plywood, with something that looks like a hanging tarp inside of it.
The door’s open, with the tarp pulled back to the side.
As you’d expect, there’s no car out here. Not that there was before.
“Marisela?” No response to my call had me heading up to the door…opening.
I stopped a few feet back from the opening. I can see inside…it didn’t bring tears to my eyes, but it’s a near thing. Oh so near.
The fireplace or stove? It’s an open fire pit with stones around it and a rickety looking metal pipe just above it. The rest of the place…it’s one room. The inside is maybe 12 by 12. The kitchen area is…just not a kitchen area. At all. It’s a bunch of boards over 55-gallon drums. The cabinets are open shelves roughly nailed into the wall. I see maybe three plates. Two cups, no, four cups, and some old silverware. There’s no fridge. There’s no faucet. The sink is a square plastic bucket from what I see, with a larger bucket that I think might have water in it.
The kitchen table is…I think it’s two folding card tables next to each other.
There’s no television. There’s no radio that I can see. I don’t see any lights, it has three candles illuminating the space as well as rough windows in two of the other walls that are letting in light. And…I was right. There’s no glass in them.
There’s an old looking tub over against the wall. No partition around it or anything like that. There’s a bed that’s more of a sleeping mat. I can smell the unwashed sheets from here, but it only makes me sad.
Noise from the back of the place pulls me out of the depression I feel coming on strong, and I head to the side, finding Marisela coming out of the path that leads towards the water. She has a yoke over her shoulders, and she’s carrying two huge containers of water. A slightly larger woman comes out after her, and she has another with two more containers of water.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…this is horrific.
The look of horror, fear, and embarrassm
ent on Marisela’s face tells me I can’t let this hit me. I can’t fall into crying about this, because she’ll think I pity her. While I do, I also don’t. The simple fact is that she’s got a loving mother, from what I can see, and that has to help a lot. I may have grown up with running water and a house with lights…but I’d rather be here with a mom that loves me. I can feel the love from her mom as she tries not to stare at me. She’s horrified that a potential friend to her daughter saw how she’s living. My parents wouldn’t have cared.
“Hey, Marisela! I’m back like I said. Can you come over?”
She continued walking, finally slowing just before reaching me. Her mother came up beside her, acting like it’s completely normal to be hoisting water from a river in this day and age. “You must be Ceri?”
“I am!” I tried for upbeat. “Are you Marisela’s mom?”
She nods, but doesn’t look at her daughter, “I am. I’m Phila.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’m interrupting. I was sort of sitting at home doing nothing and thought I’d come see if she can come and if she can stay over tonight.”
She cocked her head and again didn’t look at her daughter. That struck me as odd. “I…see. She can, but she’s not quite ready. We were going to wash clothes for her to bring.”
Oh my God…they were going to wash the clothes by hand?
“You don’t need to do that? You can wash them at my house?” Marisela wouldn’t meet my eyes. She was basically staring into my chest.
“Oh no, we can’t intrude like that.”
Her mother took a step back as I turned back to her. I want her to come with me, and I can’t help the intensity of my gaze. “It’s not an intrusion. I wouldn’t ask if it were. We have a washer and dryer that no one is using right now. It’s just me and my mom at home, and I’ve only lived with her for like the past week. I haven’t even used them yet. That’s how short of a time I’ve been there. Please, it’s not an issue. She can bring whatever she wants to wash, so feel free to add anything else to the mix.”
