by M. J. Haag
I noted a fey across the street and fixed a smile on my face as I waved at him.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?” There were too many ears to lie now and get away with it.
“Sure.” Emily smiled at the fey and waved as well.
The rest of the walk to James and Mary’s was made in silence. When we reached their house, Emily knocked twice then let herself in.
“Hello,” she called. “It’s Hannah and Emily.”
“Come in, come in,” James called. “You’re just in time. Ma’s cooking up a feast.”
I shucked my jacket and boots and followed Emily to the living room where James was comfortably seated in the chair he favored.
“Hannah, we’ve missed you,” he said.
I dutifully gave him a quick hug.
“I’m sorry about that. I got caught up in my own head again.”
He nodded in understanding.
“It’s an easy thing to do nowadays. Sit down. Ma said the food won’t be ready for a bit.”
“I think I’ll go help her,” Emily said, moving toward the kitchen.
The old couple had grabbed one of the more dated homes in the subdivision. The house hadn’t been converted to an open concept living plan like so many of the others, which suited the pair just fine. After fifty-some years together, they valued their separate space as much as they enjoyed spending time together.
“You don’t look like you’re holding up,” James said bluntly as I sat on the couch. “Dreaming again?”
“I never stopped.”
He shook his head in that way old men did when they didn’t like the news they were hearing.
“That’s a damn shame. A girl your age should have happier thoughts in her head. Damn hellhounds and infected. Who would have thought we’d end up in a world like this?”
“Not me.”
“Me, neither. Mary thought we’d get bored in our retirement.” He snorted. “I’d welcome bored just about now.”
We both knew that was a lie. While he didn’t like the threat of death that the hellhounds or infected brought, neither he nor Mary minded the visitors. It was probably more than they’d had before the earthquakes.
“It’s better not to play the ‘what-if’ game,” I said, dully. “That kind of thinking can mess with your head.”
James studied me for a long moment.
“Are you all right?”
“I’ve been up long enough to clean the entire kitchen, top to bottom. I’m just tired.”
He grunted in a way that was far too reminiscent of the fey.
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Mary bustled out with a stack of plates, which she immediately left on the dining room table so she could come give me a hug.
“I was so worried about you,” she said, smoothing her hands over my curls.
“I’m fine.”
She clucked her tongue, her doubt clearly showing in the look she gave me.
“I’m fine,” I repeated. “And I’m sorry for not showing up yesterday. I just got caught up in my own head.” That was the standard excuse I gave when I slipped up.
Before the quakes, people always used to forget things in the rush of their own busy lives. My mom used to say it was because we were getting caught up in our own heads. With so much to do and think about, inevitably things were missed or forgotten.
Thinking of Mom hurt, so I focused on moving.
“I’ll set the table,” I said, pulling out of Mary’s hold.
“Nonsense,” she said.
“I insist. It’s my way of apologizing for not visiting sooner.”
Mary harrumphed and took a seat in the chair next to James. Emily emerged from the kitchen to help me set the table.
“I think there’s an extra plate,” I said, holding up the fifth in the pile.
“Nope. We have more company.”
As if timed, the bathroom door down the hall opened, and Merdon stepped out with a towel around his waist.
“Now that it is a sight,” Mary said, twisting in her chair to see the fey. “Merdon, darlin’, your clothes are still in the washer. You’re just going to need to sit down and have breakfast with us as you are.”
I shot Emily a look. “Did you tell him we were coming here?”
She shook her head. “No. I swear.”
I swiveled my angry gaze to Merdon.
“Are you following me?”
Mary made an impatient noise.
“He was here first, so he sure as fire didn’t follow you. Behave, Hannah. Merdon is one of the many fey who doesn’t have a home to call his own. They all know they’re welcome here for a shower or a clean change of clothes whenever they want. It’s the least we can do for the food they provide us.”
James snorted.
“It’s not the food. You like the views, Ma.”
“Hush, Pa. It is too the food.” A smile curved her lips, and she winked at us. “The views don’t hurt none, though.”
During all this byplay, Merdon watched me closely. His attention would have been understandable if there was even a hint of typical fey yearning in his steady, yellow gaze; but there wasn’t. His indecipherable expression gave me no hint of what he was thinking when he looked at me. Yet, I felt judged and hated him for it. He had no idea what hells were tormenting me or what I’d survived.
“Do you mind not staring? It makes me uncomfortable,” I said, keeping my tone light so Mary wouldn’t scold me again.
His complete disregard of my request rekindled the temper he’d sparked to life with his unwanted interference earlier. A flush heated my neck then slowly crept higher.
“Hannah, come help fetch what Mary made for breakfast,” Emily said, noting the stare-down Merdon and I were having.
“You are so sweet, Emily,” Mary said. “My feet sure are tired.”
James snorted again.
“And there’s no view in the kitchen. Need your glasses, Ma?” James asked.
“Hush. Merdon, be a dear and help me to the table?”
I didn't flee to the kitchen fast enough to miss the way Mary petted Merdon's bulging bicep as he helped her to her feet.
“There’s no way I can sit at that table and eat,” I whispered to Emily.
She chuckled. “Mary's harmless. I think the way she treats the fey is funny. And Merdon probably enjoys the attention as much as the rest of the fey do.”
“I didn't mean Mary’s questionable fascination. Although that is a little stomach-turning. I meant I can’t stay here with him. This might be a coincidence, or maybe he overheard us talking and planned it.”
Emily didn't dismiss my concern. We both knew how sharp fey hearing was. In fact, Merdon was probably listening to us now. My gaze slid to the door.
“We'll eat fast. Take this.”
She handed me a baking dish. The lid rattled, and I tried harder to hold it steady.
“Everything all right?” She asked, noticing.
“Fine. I wish everyone would stop asking. It's making me not fine.”
“Sorry.”
“Let’s just hurry up and get this over with.”
Emily shot me a hurt, surprised look. Before she even spoke, I was berating myself for letting too much of my anger slip.
“Mary and James are both looking forward to this. Be nice.”
I turned on my smile, not all one thousand watts but one with just enough happy to back my words.
“I’m always nice.”
I led the way out of the kitchen and saw Merdon was already seated on the far side of the table. With James on one end and Mary sitting beside her husband, opposite Merdon, that meant my options were to take the end seat next to Merdon or the one open next to Mary, across from him. Emily made the decision for me by taking the end seat.
It’s just one meal, I told myself. No big deal.
I set the dish on the table, ignoring the way his unwavering gaze made my insides twitchy, and took my seat.
Mary removed the lids off the
dishes, and my stomach roiled at the aroma wafting in steamy curls from the egg bake. There were no sour notes of food gone bad or poorly prepared to explain my reaction. Likely, it was just due to my general mood. Something a drink would soothe.
Knowing what was expected of me, I handed her my plate and watched her scoop out a moderate portion. She did the same for Emily and herself. James received a bit more, but Merdon’s plate got the majority.
The meal had progressed only a few bites when Mary dropped her fork. It bounced off the edge of the table and fell to the floor.
“Damn this cold and my arthritis,” she mumbled, already bending down to retrieve it.
I scooted my chair to the side to give her more room as her top half disappeared under the table.
A sudden bang against the surface set all the dishes rattling.
“Sweet mother of Jesus,” Mary said loudly.
A moment later, she extracted herself, wide-eyed, with the fork clutched in her hand.
“Mary?” James asked.
“Yep. That one,” Mary said vacantly, staring at Merdon, who, like the rest of us, was watching Mary and wondering what was going on.
“Spit it out, woman. What’s wrong with you?” James said.
She turned her gaze to her husband.
“It’s the size of my grandma’s rolling pin. The one she hit grandpa with over the head because he’d stayed out drinking too late.”
She swallowed hard and looked at Merdon.
“Bless you, boy. You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.”
Then, she began fanning herself vigorously with her free hand.
“You need to settle down, Ma,” James said. “The last time you got this worked up, you almost broke my rolling pin.”
My fork clattered to my plate. I felt traumatized on more levels than I could count. I couldn’t even look at Merdon to see if he understood what had just happened because he’d sat at Mary’s table while wearing nothing but a towel.
James’s gaze swept over his guests.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “It looks like we could all settle down. Maybe just a breakfast nip.”
He got up from the table and shuffled to a sideboard that looked like it was from the 1970s. Sliding the panel front to the side, he revealed a cache of bottles that made me want to weep with joy. With my mouth drying by the second, I watched him select an aged brandy.
“For the orange juice,” he said, catching my stare.
I could have kissed the old man. Instead, I got up to help him pour.
Mary drank hers straight, having already drained her juice, and held out her glass for a bit more. As much as I wanted to do the same, I drank my diluted brandy, fully aware of Merdon’s persistent scrutiny.
It was a relief when Mary and James finished their meals and Emily started to clear everyone’s plates.
“Not much of an appetite, dear?” Mary asked, noting I still had more than half of my meal left.
“I drank too much juice. Where’d you find it?”
“The fey bring us all sorts of supplies,” James said. “Especially the liquid kind. They know the alcohol helps with the aches and pains Mary and I have. Medicinal, you know.”
There was no need to justify the merits of alcohol to me. Thanks to James, I’d discovered its benefits not long after the world fell to shit.
A buzz went off somewhere in the house.
“Merdon, that’s the washer. Do you remember how to switch over to the dryer, or should I help you?” Mary asked.
James snorted.
“The man remembers. You stay in your chair, Ma, or you’ll give yourself a fit.”
Merdon left the room, and Mary leaned toward me.
“The towel fell off of Tor when he was here. He’s not quite as big as Merdon but thick.” She shook her head and made num-num noises that someone her age shouldn’t make. At least, not around someone my age.
She straightened away and took my plate. “I’ll just wrap this up for you. I’m sure you’ll want it later.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with James. Without asking, I grabbed the bottle and went to put it away.
“You have a hefty collection here,” I said, returning it to its place. “I’m surprised that the cabinet’s supporting all the weight.”
“You and me both. If you see something you like, feel free to take it.” He gave me a considering look. “You’re over 21, right?”
I laughed. It was the same thing he’d asked me when he’d poured me my first shot in the RV after a bad dream.
“Not by a few years. But if you won’t tell, I won’t.”
He pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key.
“The police won’t be knocking on your door because of me,” he said.
I turned before my expression could give away any of the pain those words caused. The bottles provided a good distraction from the reminder of the world we had lost.
“Do you have a kind you don’t like?”
“Any of those big ones. That’s too much for Mary and me to finish, and we know you girls like to have your get-togethers. Help yourself.”
I selected a 1.75-liter vodka bottle that already had some missing from it.
“We’ll help you finish this one off,” I said, standing.
“Real kind of you.” He winked at me before getting serious. “You girls need to take care of yourselves. Mary and I lost a lot, and I’m not sure we could handle any more.”
“None of us can.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Any chance you changed your mind about house-sharing with one of the fey? I think Emily wouldn’t object if you were—”
“No.”
“I’m not suggesting anything permanent like the other girls. What if you did something like Mary and me? A different fey every night so none of them get ideas.”
I shook my head.
“You know why that won’t work. A single night? A week? The length of time wouldn’t matter; what matters is that Emily and I are over eighteen. We’re fair game. You and Mary aren’t. If we let a fey in, we’re waving the flag that we’re up for auction. I’m not going to be a broodmare for the next generation of feybies just to have a big, strong protector. No thanks.
“I appreciate the donation,” I said, lifting the bottle, “but I think I’ll get going. Please let Emily know I headed home.”
James sighed and nodded.
Leaving him at the table, I grabbed my jacket and hurried out the door. My rush wasn’t due to his nagging. After all, the topic of a fey roommate surfaced every time I visited the old couple. I really hadn’t expected to escape it this time. No, my haste was due to my need to beat Emily home. The topic was just a perfect excuse for my departure, though.
With my prize safely tucked under my arm, I let myself into our house and went straight for the recycling. The bottles from our party were still there. Glad that Emily hadn’t carried it to wherever she went with the recycling, I fished through for another vodka bottle, carefully rearranged the rest, then filled the bottle with water.
By the time she returned home, the fake bottle of liquor was stored above the stove, and I had two shots warming my belly while I lounged on the couch.
“We need more movies,” I said. “I’ve watched all of these enough to repeat the lines, word for word.”
“Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because you were in the kitchen, cleaning up, and I was in the dining room, listening to James’s ‘you need a man’ speech. It wasn’t something I wanted Merdon to join in on.” I lifted my head from the couch and met her gaze over the back. “Oh, and James sent home a mostly full bottle of vodka with me. I stashed it above the stove, figuring we could save it for the next party. I know we do food and booze as the buy-in for the parties, but what if we allowed a movie or two?”
Her concern melted away to a smile.
“I like that idea.”
And just like that, I knew I’
d reassured her.
Unlike me, Emily didn’t drink outside of the parties. She’d never know the bottle wasn’t real. I’d replace it long before then.
Chapter Four
A splash of unwanted orange flickered through my eyelids and pulled me from my sleep. I rolled over to a more comfortable position, facing away from the window, and hit my forehead on something hard. Cracking my eyes open, I cringed at the sunlight glinting off the vodka bottle on my pillow.
I didn’t remember removing it from its hiding place under my mattress after going to bed. Then again, I’d been pleasantly buzzed when I’d come up to my room, so who knew what I’d done once I crawled under the covers.
In fact, thanks to my bed-buddy, I was still blissfully insulated from the harshness of life. Unwilling to give up even a little of the ground I’d gained, I took a morning swig then stowed the bottle before closing myself in the bathroom.
When I saw myself in the mirror, I realized my bloodshot eyes were sending out a warning beacon. Emily would take one look and know I’d been drinking. Since her harping was the last thing I wanted to listen to, I wet a washcloth and held the cold compress to them. It took several applications before the redness faded. I even went the extra step to brush my teeth and comb my hair.
Feeling pretty confident that my appearance passed as normal, I left my room and noticed Emily’s door was still closed. Good. It would give me more time to figure out what to do with myself. Yesterday, I’d gotten away with just lying on the couch because she’d assumed I was tired from being up most of the previous night. Going to bed early also hadn’t been questioned.
I knew better than to think I’d get away with the same today. At least, not without Emily thinking something was wrong with me. I mean, obviously, there was, but her motherly smothering wouldn’t fix it. Nothing would.
That thought had me craving another drink, which started an internal debate over whether I should. I knew I needed to conserve the alcohol I had left until I figured out how to quietly get more. In addition to the issue of gaining a better supply, there was also the problem of Emily. She worried and watched me far too closely. Although she hadn’t commented on my quiet trips to my bedroom yesterday, she’d likely question it today.
