by Brey Willows
And then the motion stopped. False light made her wince, made her cry. The voice soothed her even as tears fell onto her face.
One day, little one. You’ll understand we did this for you. One day, you’ll remember us.
A door opened and closed. Lots of little breaths, like hers. The warmth left, replaced by a hard bed surrounded by bars.
One day, my love.
Maggie startled awake, her heart racing. She could swear she heard someone speaking downstairs, but when she strained to listen, there was nothing. She sank back into the pillow and her eyes drifted shut again. She just hoped that dream didn’t resurface.
Instead, there was a woman. The silhouette of a woman, really. She was in a tower, alone. She sat on the floor, a drink in her hand, sorrow emanating from every aspect of her being. It made Maggie want to cry, to reach out to her. But there was a wall she couldn’t see between them.
* * *
Maggie brushed away the insistent nuisance pawing at her face. Sweat rolled down her back and her neck ached. The images of the dream merged and faded, but the voice stayed with her. She opened her eyes, and Blech sat beside her face, his paw raised for another push at her cheek.
“I’m okay. Thanks.”
He stared at her with his big yellow eyes for a second before turning and jumping off the bed. Maggie had heard about animals knowing when their owners were sick or distressed and hadn’t really believed it. But clearly Blech knew she’d been having a bad dream. She stretched and headed for the shower to wash away the sense of pervasive loss.
Under the hot water, she wondered why the dream had felt so real. Like a memory. Most of her dreams were run of the mill stuff—being chased, falling, saving the day, being made love to by a hot woman. This didn’t feel like that. It felt important, but the more she tried to remember the details the more they slid out of reach. By the time she was out of the shower it was gone, but it left an uneasy itch behind it.
She made breakfast and put food down for Blech. When she looked around for him, she saw him sitting by the back door, staring at it. His fur was raised and the door creaked open.
A feeling of dread swept through her as she remembered the opening lines of the book. But the door had been locked. She’d checked it before she went to bed. Cautiously, she made her way over and picked up Blech, who didn’t look away from the door. After counting to three, she yanked it open to see…
Her backyard. Just a normal backyard in the early spring. “Jesus H., Blech. What the hell is with this door?” She set him down and he smelled at it, his fur still puffed up like he’d been rubbed with a balloon. He stuck his head out, looked around, then sauntered over to his food dish, apparently satisfied his territory was safe from intruders. She locked it and double-checked that it couldn’t open on its own. Creepy.
She took her cup of coffee over to the chair and reopened the book. Once again, a piece of paper fell out. This time, it had an address across town and the words Find the shepherd written below it.
The coffee tasted extra bitter, and Maggie set the cup down before she spilled it. The paper wasn’t in the book yesterday. She had no doubt about that. Was that why the back door was open? Had someone come in and left her a message? Sure. Because that’s what people do. They come into your house on the top of an apartment building and leave you weird little notes instead of stealing all your stuff. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves. She could take on bullies on the street with a baseball bat, but having creepy things in her new home was a different ballgame. She opened her eyes when she felt Blech’s paw on her hand.
He pushed the paper at her.
“No. No way can you weird me out too. You’ve been a normal, if slightly overly grouchy, stray. You can’t get all spooky too.”
He yawned and pushed the paper at her again.
“Fine.” She stood and stomped up the stairs to the bedroom. “Fine. I’ll listen to a book and a cat. It’s not like I have anything else to do, right?” She threw on whatever clothes she grabbed first. “I had a normal job. I understand numbers. Now I’m following instructions that appear in the night. Why not?”
She wasn’t usually one to talk to herself, but the silence in her lovely, weird little cottage was unnerving. Thankfully, however, Blech didn’t respond.
She grabbed her keys, checked the back door, and left. Brenda was waiting at the reception desk and smiled widely when she came out of the elevator.
“Looks like you’re in a hurry. I’ve got your morning paper here and some mail that’s been forwarded from your old place. Want me to take it upstairs?”
Maggie stopped and took a second to steady herself. “Can you go upstairs? I thought it was all cloak-and-dagger.”
Brenda rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you read the book yet, silly? Of course I can. I’ll let you go wherever you were going. Anything you need from me?”
Sanity. Answers. Somehow she knew she wouldn’t get any useful information, at least not yet. “Could you find out which delivery places are best in this area? I don’t cook, and I may starve to death if I have to eat too many microwave meals.” She stopped and stared at Brenda. “How do you know about the book?”
Brenda laughed. “Sure thing. Want me to choose a takeout for you tonight and get it delivered at a certain time? And as for the book, I know all kinds of fun stuff. You’ll see.” She shrugged and grinned.
“Uh, no, thanks. I don’t know when I’ll be back or what I’ll feel like having.” Maggie had never had an assistant of any kind, nor had she really had anyone to take care of things even when she was young. It felt just as surreal as the rest of her life had become.
“No problem. Good luck.”
Maggie headed into the spring morning contemplating Brenda’s words. Good luck? Why would she think I’d need luck? Did she leave me the note in the book? Given that Brenda could go up to the cottage and apparently knew about the book, it seemed possible. But why would she? Did she go by Shamus after 4:46?
She considered going back to ask, but she had a feeling any answers she got would be about as helpful as gum in your hair. Instead, Maggie entered the address from the note into her phone’s GPS and headed down to the subway to catch the 6 to City Hall. It was in a part of town she’d never bothered to go to. Money bled from the walls of the buildings and the people smelled of jaded success. The area made her feel like she was dragging her roots along behind her for all to see.
She shaded her eyes as she looked up at the building and checked the address again. The doorman smiled at people as he opened and closed a door they could certainly have handled themselves.
Now what? It wasn’t like she could just walk past him and head to… She looked at the address again and noted the apartment number. If she had to guess, it was toward the top, if not at the top. She nearly laughed out loud at the unbidden thought. I live in a penthouse too, and nobody can just come up and see me, either. But if she couldn’t get to the person inside, why would the book send her here? The book sent me. That’s how I’m thinking now. The dream from the night before, of the sad woman in the tower, came back to her. Awesome. Now I’m a fucking psychic, too. She gave a mental shrug and headed across the street to the apartment. Shoulders back and head up, she smiled at the doorman and walked past him, her heart thumping at the expectation of being stopped and barred entry. But he barely glanced at her, and she walked into the foyer.
“May I help you?” The man behind the desk smiled at her politely.
She looked down at the paper in her hand and swallowed the mild panic. “I need to go to apartment 32C, please.”
He looked her over, his head tilted slightly. “Of course. If I could get your name, I’ll let her know you’re coming.”
“Maggie McShay.” She didn’t add that the person probably had no idea who she was or why she was there. Hell, Maggie didn’t know, so why would anyone else?
He pointed to the elevator on the left. “If you’ll step inside, I’ll send it up from here.”
She went as directed, knowing full well that if he called up and she wasn’t supposed to be there, he could simply keep the elevator from going anywhere. She waited, and when the doors closed and it began to rise, she breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. Now what? Apparently, it was going to be her new motto. The elevator opened and she was faced with a door that read 32C. She raised her hand to knock but hesitated. What do I say? The book in my new cottage sent me? My cat thought it was a good idea?
Before she could knock, the door was flung open.
“It’s about damn time.”
Maggie stared, speechless. The woman facing her was something out of a dirty wet dream. She wore a white tank top and low-slung jeans, and her tattoos covered both arms. Her feet were bare, adding an element of intimacy Maggie didn’t know could come from not having footwear on. She held a frosty beer bottle by the neck as she leaned against the door.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t know I was expected.” Maggie swallowed hard, trying to still the butterflies on speed suddenly alive in her stomach.
“Why wouldn’t you be expected? I called, didn’t I?” She stepped to the side and motioned with the beer bottle. “Come on in. The bedroom’s to the left.”
Maggie froze. “Bedroom?”
The woman frowned. “You’re from the Ranch, right? One of Celia’s girls? Sorry, I didn’t catch your name when reception called up.”
Bile rose in the back of Maggie’s throat. “You think I’m a prostitute?” She backed up toward the elevator. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
The woman leaned against the door once more and took a long drink of beer. She looked Maggie over with interest. “If there has, it makes the situation far more interesting. I thought you were rather underdressed for the occasion. What brings you here, if you’re not the service I asked for?”
Maggie held up the sheet of paper wordlessly. The woman glanced at it and then did a double take.
She grabbed it out of Maggie’s hand. “Is this a joke?”
Maggie shrugged. “If it is, I don’t get it. I just moved into this place—”
“The cottage. You moved into the cottage.” The woman slumped against the door, looking as stunned as Maggie felt.
“Yeah.”
The elevator door opened, and a woman Maggie assumed was the expected “service” stepped out, carrying a portable massage table. She looked between Maggie and the woman with a politely puzzled smile.
“I don’t mind doing two, but the payment will change.”
Maggie stumbled back into the elevator. “There’s clearly been a mistake. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
The woman stared at her as the elevator doors closed, her expression unreadable. What the hell was that about? She leaned against the cold metal wall and hugged herself. What does that incredibly hot woman have to do with me?
Chapter Four
Wanted: Woman willing to have multiple adventures at any given moment. Ability to rock climb and hoist 200 lbs desirable but not essential. Must be willing to carry all necessary items in any manner of weather or circumstances. A tolerance for alcohol a must. Respond to sherpa2018.
Maggie folded up the newspaper. Returning to her routine of coffee and reading the personal ads gave her a small sense of normalcy. When she’d returned from her messy visit to the mysterious woman’s place, Brenda had been busy reading her book, one Maggie recognized as a standard romance novel, complete with a picture of a woman encased in a corset tight enough to send her boobs to her chin.
Without looking up from her book, she’d said, “Your mail and some takeout menus are on the table. I put today’s paper in too.”
It was disconcerting that she knew Maggie read the newspaper at all. It wasn’t like people did a lot of that anymore. But then, most things were disconcerting when it came to her new life, and it had only been a week. She couldn’t bring herself to ask any more questions today.
Maggie looked at the pile of mail and noticed a small package. She pulled it out and frowned. It was postmarked from her sister, and she belatedly remembered her asking for Maggie’s address. Now she’d have to give her a new one, right after she’d just given her an old one.
She tore open the brown envelope to find another, yellowed packet inside. A letter fell out of the brown envelope, and she recognized her sister’s immaculate writing.
Hey. So, this is weird, but whatever. I was going through some stuff of Mom and Dad’s in storage the other day to send to Goodwill, and I came across this with your name on it. I didn’t open it because it’s all taped up, but I figured you should have it, even if it’s junk. We should get together when I get back.
Xx J.
Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose. How could she get rid of their stuff without asking me? She picked up the yellowed package and saw her name in handwriting she didn’t recognize. What the hell? She carefully tore it open, and a gray stone fell into her lap. With trembling hands, she unfolded the thin paper.
Our dearest Maggie,
There is so much we want to write. So much to say, to explain. But really, there aren’t enough words, and putting them in writing would be dangerous. We’ve left this note and gift with you for your new parents to give you when the day comes. Hopefully, they’ve kept it from you until the time was right, and you’re reading it when your life has taken the new path it is supposed to. Know that we loved you more than we could ever have imagined. Be the brave girl we know you’ll be and embrace what’s coming. You’re stronger than you think. The stone will help you see true; keep it with you and stay safe.
Love, always,
Ma and Da.
P.S. Trust the shepherd. She has the answers.
Maggie lifted the stone, her hand shaking so hard she nearly dropped it. At first glance it looked like a simple stone with a hole in it. But when she looked closer she saw it was more than that. It was shaped like a flattened stone egg, and the sides of the hole in the center were made up of swirling white lines, like veins made of bone. On the underside, where the hole was smaller than the elongated nature of it on top, there was an asymmetrical cross-like shape over the hole. The entire thing fit in her palm, silky smooth and warm. She reread the letter, but it provided only questions. More questions. Why today? She thought of the woman in her tank top and jeans. That woman has the answers? I don’t even know what the damn questions are.
She got up and poured herself a rum and cranberry juice. She sipped it with her eyes closed, trying to feel some sense of calm. Ma and Da? Her birth parents? She’d been adopted by the time she was thirteen, and her adoptive parents always told her she was special, but they’d never mentioned anything about her birth parents at all. They didn’t tell me my birth parents had left something for me. What else didn’t they tell me?
She looked up when she heard Blech meow. He was sitting on the book in front of the fireplace.
“I can’t even have a normal pet. I’m going to trade you in for a goldfish.” Her legs still shaky, she made her way back to the chair in front of the fireplace and picked up the book after Blech took his time getting off it. She moved past the first page with its warning about the back door, then found illustrations of the place that looked like they’d come out of a fairy tale book for children.
Before she could read any farther, there was a knock at the door. Surprised, she jumped up to open it.
“I just wanted to check in. Did you have any luck today?” Brenda looked up at her expectantly.
“Um…how do you know what I went out to do?”
Brenda sighed theatrically. “You really haven’t read the book yet, have you?”
Maggie looked over her shoulder, where Blech sat on the table watching them. “I keep trying, but something keeps interrupting me.”
Brenda nodded, looking thoughtful. “That’s probably because you need the shepherd before you go any farther. So where is she?”
Maggie moved to the side. “It sounds like you have all the informat
ion I need. Want to come in and have a drink and tell me what rabbit hole I’ve fallen into? That would probably save a lot of time and subplots.”
She backed away with her palms in the air. “I was just being nosy and making sure you’re okay. But no one has the answers you really need except the shepherd, and believe me when I say I’m not stepping on her toes.”
“Why not? What’s so scary about her? And why is she called the shepherd? There aren’t sheep in New York City. And I’m not something to be herded. Why would someone I’ve never met have answers about me?”
Brenda made a soft tsking sound. “Poor thing. I can’t imagine how confusing this is. Try the shepherd again tomorrow. I bet she was just as stunned to see you as you were to see her.”
Maggie’s temper rarely flared, but she disliked feeling out of control and overwhelmed. “SHE was? I’m the one getting stones in the mail from my long lost parents. I’m the one who thought I was taking a dream job but seems to have been caught up in some kind of…of…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know what to call it.”
Brenda walked backward to the door leading to the elevator. “I’ve got to run. But don’t give up. The cottage is the perfect place for you. The answers will come when you should have them.”
She was gone before Maggie could stop her and beg her to come inside. She closed the door and leaned against it. Blech jumped from the table and headed upstairs. No help there, then. Maggie went back to the book and flipped it open.
This cottage was built when the first stories began. After the war of seventy-five, the first cottage keeper could foresee the need for a place like this to keep everyone safe. He designed it with both comfort and safety in mind, since he knew full well the life of a cottage keeper could be both busy and difficult in times of extreme strife, when the keeper is called upon not only to watch the doors, but to assist the spinner if necessary.
