by Caleb James
Jerod added. “Liam was to trap Alex so that May could just waltz in and steal his body. It didn’t happen, and in hindsight, his failure cost her everything.”
“That was her.” Charlie wondered at what point the men in white coats would haul them away. Mad queens, fire-spitting salamanders. “But that’s what I saw in my dream. That’s what smells of cookies.”
Not fully listening to their conversation, Nimby stopped in midarabesque. With a leg extended behind her, she leaned in and whispered in Charlie’s ear, “Fairy fire. You smell of fairy fire, Charlie Fitzgerald. And after fairy fire comes fairy dust.”
Charlie shook his head, which threw Nimby off-balance. She fluttered back to Alex’s shoulder and shook an angry finger.
“Sorry about that. But what the hell are fairy fire and fairy dust?”
“Weapons,” Alex said. “Just as Liam Summer is a weapon.”
Charlie looked across as dogs frolicked in the fenced-off section of the park. He didn’t want to look at the fairy on Alex’s shoulder or think about the awful things they’d said about Liam, which Gran kind of warned you about… and he told you himself. Shit. “Let me get this straight… mad salamander queen sent a ball of cookie-dough fire to your old building, which is where I found Liam. So maybe that explains how he got there… like he rode on fairy fire. Would somebody please give me a shot of something?”
Alex spoke. “I think you’re close. I was in her head, or more accurately, she’d taken over mine. I got images and bits of her thoughts. The fairy fire is power. It’s made from magic. I think it’s magic she steals. Fairy dust, not so sure what it’s for, but I think it’s like a drug to them.”
Nimby clapped her hands. “It’s delicious! Mmmm. But bad. Bad, bad, bad. Makes you go mad, mad, mad.”
Charlie felt sick. “So maybe she sent Liam. But he seemed so afraid of her. And in the dream, it’s like she wanted to kill him… to eat him.”
Jerod interjected, “It’s clear Liam’s gotten to you. I’m sorry for that. But this fey-in-distress thing is an act. He can’t be trusted. They say that the fey don’t lie. I’m not sure of that. But I do know this—they sure as hell don’t tell the truth. And, Charlie, you need to multiply that by a thousand when talking about May’s whore, Liam Summer.”
Sixteen
LIAM WALKED through the tunnel of mist Lizbeta formed. He turned back once but could no longer see her shimmering light or May’s beastly form. He paused and swallowed. He tasted his fear, an emotion that had ruled his life. Like well-worn shoes, he’d lived with terror so long, he barely noticed. Fear of May, fear of tripping her temper, of saying or doing the thing that would leave him dead and gutted, his organs ripped out for dinner. What would it be like to be unafraid? He stared down the tunnel to its dark opening in the See. What would it be like? To be like Charlie…. To be with Charlie.
An idea rooted as he faced the threshold that separated worlds. Your fear serves a purpose. It’s kept you alive. “’Tis true,” he spoke aloud. “Fear keeps me alive and keeps me in the shadows and under her thumb. I am alive… but at what cost?” The sound of his voice was muffled by the mist. The tone rose into a question: Can she hear that? He listened for the beast’s growl. There was nothing, just a hum in his ears and crickets and leaves in the wind through the black opening in the tunnel.
Fear keeps me alive. He came to the tunnel’s end and stepped into darkness. Unlike his first trip to the See, there was no fire. He stilled as his eyes adapted. A branch brushed his face. He reached out a hand as forms took shape. He was in the dense bower of a great tree. His fingers traced the outline of heart-shaped leaves as his eyes separated shadow from shape.
He worked an opening through the dense entwined branches. Old twigs snapped and fell. Daylight pierced through, and he looked out on a park. A stone castle sat high on a hill and a great river below. On the distant bank, he glimpsed a city with steel-and-concrete buildings and hard, dark streets. He stepped out into the See, with grass and moss underfoot, birdsong and crickets, the rasp of frogs. He gazed back at the massive tree, whose branches landed like a waterfall on all sides, creating the cave-like space into which he’d landed. Remember this place.
He searched for Charlie’s great red dragon with the spinning lights but did not see it. He ran his fingers across the tips of his ears and then along his teeth. Flat… human. But the travel comes with cost. What is changed? What have I lost this time? His hands ran over his face and up and down his body. It feels solid. He checked his fingers, toes, made certain he’d not had a sex change or other major life-altering event. But I could be mad.
His gut churned as he thought about the enormity of his tasks. To get word of Marilyn’s children back to her and to learn of May’s weakness. To find answers as to the how and the why her foray into the See had failed. It is too much… and I will try.
A breeze swept across his face. At least I’m not naked this time. Something about the gray sweatpants and red T-shirt that Charlie’s gran had given him comforted him. Even the funny shoes with their laces and bouncy bottoms. I look human. He sniffed for signs of the Unsee, for the echo of fairy fire, but there was nothing, just the soft wind, the chatter of wildlife, and the dance of sun and shadow through the trees.
He heard footsteps, twigs and leaves crunching. A man in a dull green uniform appeared on a dirt path. “Are you looking for the Cloisters?”
The man’s question startled him. He reminded himself that this was the human way, indiscriminate asking of information with no sense of cost. “No.” Fear gripped his throat, and he wished it gone. What would Charlie do? But with no building on fire, the answer wasn’t clear. I will not give in to fear…. So do the thing that frightens you. He asked a question. “How do I get to Staten Island?” He braced for pain, for the punishment and cost of the question.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, and I need to go to Staten Island.”
“Okay, then.” The man in green pulled a folded map from the patch pocket in his pants and spread it on a flat boulder. “This is what you have to do.”
Liam listened and nodded as the man traced the route in red ink from where they were, at the tip of the island of Manhattan, all the way down through the city, to a body of water.
“And that’s where I take the boat,” he stated, wanting to be certain, but there it was, in large letters. Staten Island, where Charlie lived.
“You think you got it?” Mr. Green Hat asked.
“I think so.”
“A bit of a haul. You have family out there?”
“A friend,” Liam said and hoped it was true.
“Okay, then.” And the park ranger refolded the map and handed it to Liam.
Liam held the precious paper with the path to Charlie’s homeland clearly marked. “Tell me the cost.”
“Excuse me?”
Liam’s free hand searched in the pockets of his sweats. He had nothing to offer in return.
Green Hat smiled and stepped back. “It’s yours. No cost. Maps are free.”
Stunned by his response, Liam clutched the city map—a gift from a stranger—and watched as Mr. Green walked down the dirt path where he’d first appeared. Before the ranger vanished, he turned and pointed toward an opening in the clearing.
“If you go through there, it takes you to the bike path. Then just keep going downhill.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem.” And Mr. Green left.
The exchange troubled him—a gift in response to a question. It could be a trick…. He held the map and looked at the path in red. He unfolded and refolded it. He felt the fear in his belly and how it wanted him to retreat into the sheltering bower of the tree with its heart-shaped leaves. No… it’s not what Charlie would do.
With Mr. Green’s instructions clear in his head, he followed the dirt path to a narrow black one, its surface smooth and hard as rock. With each step the noise of the city grew. If not for his brief time in the
See, the sights would have left him cowering.
“Left!” a voice shouted from behind.
Liam turned as a helmeted man hurtled toward him on a thin-wheeled device. He pushed back into the hedge and braced for the attack.
“Thanks, guy.” And he was gone.
His knees weakened as the two-wheeled creature flew down the path to a busy street. He stopped and tried to make sense of the noise and the metal dragons, none of them big and red like Charlie’s.
You can do this. You have a map.
Putting one bouncy-shoed foot in front of the other, he left the safety of the park.
Always one with a strong sense of direction, he quickly figured the compass points. The park with the castle was at the north end of the island, and he needed to get all the way to the south, where he would board a boat, which would take him to Charlie’s Staten Island.
He noted how men and women glanced at him and then averted their gazes, some with a smile and some with a second look. He caught his reflection in a store window filled with strange food and brightly colored packages whose contents he couldn’t even guess. He stopped and stared. While his clothes were drabber than he’d like, he looked human. He wondered if there’d been further changes with this second trip…. No. The silver of his hair was still the color of ripened wheat, the tips of his ears and his teeth no longer pointy. Just his eyes remained unchanged from the Unsee, purple rimmed in lashes of dark gold.
A girl with fishnet stockings and skin covered in tattoos stopped beside him. She looked from his reflection and asked, “Purple, awesome! Where do I get contacts like those?”
He stared at her and at the colorful scenes painted on her skin. “I don’t understand.”
“Your eyes. The color is wild. Those are contacts, aren’t they?”
“I don’t think so.”
She got right up into his face. “Holy shit! They’re real. I’d kill for eyes like that.”
Liam backed away. “Please don’t.”
“Just kidding.”
“I need to find the A train.”
“Easy.” And for the second time, assistance was offered with nothing taken in return. It was bizarre, although Liam hurried away from the picture-covered woman who’d threatened to steal his eyes.
He stalled at the entrance to the subway. He watched as people descended and then climbed up from beneath the ground. This felt familiar. The fey were no strangers to dark places. Knowing how and where to hide were useful tools. What worried him was how the ground shook and then grew calm.
I will face my fear. I will be like Charlie… and maybe I will see Charlie. And maybe he will not be broken.
Swallowing dread and stomach acid, he followed a group of young women down the stairs and into the station. He watched as they slid plastic cards through metal slots and then walked through toothlike turnstiles.
One of them stopped and spoke to him. “You don’t have a MetroCard, do you?”
“I don’t.”
She smiled, and as her friends waited, she pulled a plastic card from her shoulder bag. “I always carry an extra for out-of-towners.” She reached back over the turnstile and slid the card. “You’re good to go.”
Liam copied what the others did and pressed on the bar. It wouldn’t move.
“You’ve got to really push,” she instructed.
And then he was through. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” With a wink and a smile, she returned to her girlfriends.
An older woman helped him find the A train, and another stranger made sure he got off at the right stop.
A Chinese man in a business suit and tie asked his name and walked him from the station to the ferryboat. As he turned to leave, the man asked, “You need money?”
Before Liam could respond, several pieces of green paper with intricate pictures on both sides were pressed into his hand.
“Thank you.”
Without a word the man gave a shy smile, waved his hand as though giving money to strangers was an everyday thing, and walked away.
Aboard the bright orange-and-blue boat, Liam climbed to the top deck and turned around and around, wanting to take it all in as the ship pulled away from the dock. His fear was replaced by wonder. Steel-and-glass towers, blue sky streaked with clouds, people who smiled without guile and helped and asked and answered questions without wanting anything in return. He held tight to the rail and braced his feet wide, loving the feel of the dark gray waves as they lapped against the steel hull.
On a distant island, a giant green statue of a woman came to view, her brow encircled with a crown and one hand aloft with a flaming torch. He thought of Queen May and understood her passion for this world. Who wouldn’t want to be here?
A little girl in a red-and-white-checked dress pointed at the green lady. “That’s the Statue of Liberty.”
The girl’s mother, obviously pregnant, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses, looked from her daughter to Liam. “Daria, leave the man alone.”
“She does not bother me,” Liam said. “I am new here. I’ve not seen these things. I do not know their names.”
“She’s a symbol,” the woman said.
“Of what?” he asked, each question through his lips a bit easier.
“Freedom. Your accent… I can’t quite place it. Irish?”
He nodded, not wanting to lie but knowing the truth was not for humans. “Freedom matters here.”
“Of course. It’s what Americans treasure most. Give us liberty or give us death. A lot of us forget just how precious it is and how easily it can be lost.”
He nodded, not certain what freedom meant. Freedom from whom? From what? From a queen who dines on her subjects and steals their magic. From a world where wrong words can have deadly consequences. “Freedom sounds like something worth fighting for.”
“Yes.” She lowered her shades. “That’s both the terrible and wonderful thing about it. We call it a right. Something that comes with citizenship, but there’s a price. As noble as it sounds and as that statue would have us believe, it’s not free. It comes at a tremendous cost, and even today, not everyone has it. The thing I don’t like to imagine is what would happen if we lost it. Some say we’ve already given up much of it, with new technologies and selling off our privacy. I just hope we don’t wake up one day and realize we’ve sold our freedom and our liberty for an endless stream of cute pet videos.”
He nodded, understanding but a fraction of what she’d said. His thoughts were troubled by other matters as the enormity of Charlie’s Staten Island came to view. He pulled out the map from the man in green and looked from it to the shore, which stretched for miles in either direction.
The woman saw his distress. She stared at the line in red, which ended at the ferry. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No. I did not realize the size of his island.”
“His?”
“A friend… I think. Someone who saved me from a building on fire.”
The woman’s gaze narrowed. “Your friend have a name?”
“Charlie…. Charlie Fitzgerald.”
The woman stared at him. “I thought you looked familiar.”
Liam froze. She knows of me. She knows what I am. He braced for the denunciation, for all to know that Queen May’s whore was on the boat.
“You’re Naked Chihuahua Guy. It’s your eyes. In the pictures they looked purple… and they really are. Oh God….”
The little girl, who’d been focused on the approaching shore, spoke. “I knew that. You saved the doggy. And my uncle Charlie saved you. It was on the news.”
Liam met the pregnant woman’s gaze. The same blue eyes, her face a narrow version… and no dark stubble. He couldn’t breathe, poised on the edge of hope and despair.
“So you’re looking for my brother. You got a name?”
“Yes. It’s Liam Summer.”
“Too strange. This has to be fate… which is just the kind of shit my Gran says.”
&nbs
p; He nodded. “I’ve met your gran… and the cats. They don’t like me.”
The little girl perked, and her eyes brightened as she ticked off names, raising a finger for each. “Aldo, Andre, Lily, Lulu, and Crazy Daisy. Why can’t we have cats, Mommy?”
The woman shook her head. “Okay, Liam Summer, I’m Annie DiCarlo, and my daughter Daria is obsessed with anything small and furry. So, how is it you met Gran?”
He felt the weight of her scrutiny. “The night of the fire, Charlie brought me to her.”
“Does he know you’re looking for him?”
“No.”
“Will he be glad to see you?”
“I do not know…. I hope so.”
“Wow! What are the chances?” The boat lurched as it pulled into the dock. The sun beat down on the deck as the passengers flocked toward the stairs. “You do realize that Staten Island houses the mother lode of cops and firefighters and about half a million people. And Fitzgeralds, Murphys, Reillys, Hulains, the place is crawling with them. And… you just happen to catch the attention of Charlie’s niece and sister.”
“You are troubled by this. I mean him no harm.” And yet that’s all I’ve done. And now here’s his pregnant sister and young niece. I should stay on the boat. I should leave this place. I should…. And this cannot be coincidence?
“I am troubled. I love my brother.” It was hard for her not to stare. “He brought you to Gran’s….”
“He did.”
“Crap! Tell me you’re not going to break his heart, Liam Summer. Forgive my bluntness, but without doubt, you’re the best-looking man I’ve ever met. And guys—gay or straight—become idiots around a pretty face.”
Daria interjected, “Mommy, Gran says boys are handsome and girls are pretty.”
“Yes, sweetheart, and there are exceptions to every rule.” She did not break eye contact.
Liam felt her love and concern… and something else. Protectiveness. “I will not hurt Charlie. If you think I should get back on the boat and….”
“Hell no.” Her worry blossomed into a smile. “You know, he’s never brought a guy home to meet the family. This should be interesting. Really, really interesting.”
