by Caleb James
Her lips pursed, her breath was fast and shallow, she seemed in pain, and then she shrieked. “She tricked me!”
Lance sank to his knees. He pressed his forehead to her wrinkled brow. “Ssh, Katye… ssh.”
The old woman’s shoulders shook.
“It’s okay,” he said, his hand was on her shoulder and then on her back, inscribing gentle circles.
“No,” she gasped. Her hand found his cheek. “This is not okay… none of this is okay. She took the thing I am, the thing that is my special, and made it wrong.” With her hand still to his face, she looked at us. “I was tricked by my sister May, we both were.”
“Your other sister…,” I said.
“Yes… Lizbeta. May used our special against us.”
Nimby, her gaze fixed on the old woman, jumped from Jerod’s shoulder to mine. “Do not ignore me, Alex Nevus.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I whispered.
“Special is power. It is theirs, and it is unique. You’d do well to understand yours.”
“Good to know… thank you.”
Nimby lunged for my cheek. I flinched, my thoughts on her razor-sharp teeth. But she kissed me. A quick peck. “You’re welcome, Alex.” She launched from my shoulder and flew back to Jerod.
Katherine Summer gasped; her tears streamed as her fingers gentled down Lance’s sculpted cheek and jaw. “Not fair… not fair.”
“My love, we are together.” His voice was tender. “If it’s time… then it’s time. No regrets.”
And then it got freaky.
Her fingers trembled as they stroked his cheek. His lips found hers… the beautiful man and the withered hag. The kiss stretched. Streaks of white shot through his hair as the flesh on her face filled out. It was like one balloon being deflated while the other filled. Her hair shimmered, and the butterfly barrette on the back of her bun started to move. Its pink-jeweled wings flapped once, twice, and then it launched into the air. It hovered above the kissing couple, its wings gracefully flapping.
A blur pulled my eye, and the pink butterfly was gone. In its place was Nimby, who’d ripped the poor thing apart. She held its glittery wings while gobbling down its body. She grinned while savoring what was apparently a delicious meal.
I felt Jerod’s hand. “You see this too?”
“Yeah.” I was torn between Nimby’s act of brutality and the kissing couple.
Katherine Summer’s hair spilled down her back; it seemed alive as it cascaded to the floor, twisting and sparkling, the white replaced by lustrous waves of golden red.
Her lips, still locked to Lance’s, were now full and candy-apple red. Her too-young pink outfit was suddenly just right for the voluptuous redhead. Lance, in his electric-blue shirt, was little more than a husk; his hands covered in spots, his back bent, his hair thinned to where I could see blue veins on his scalp.
Katherine pulled back from the kiss and rose from her chair. She took her walker and passed it to Lance. He nodded, and never once taking his gaze from the bombshell redhead, he shuffled toward the door. She followed at his side.
He turned to Jerod and me. “It’s worth it.” His voice was cracked and barely audible.
“Come,” she said, her voice urgent. “We have little time.”
I looked to Jerod and then to changeling Mom, who was crying. “You okay?” I asked.
Her gaze was fixed on Katherine and Lance. “Her special is love,” she said. “She was tricked in love.”
Katherine stopped, one hand on Lance’s back, the other steadying his walker. “Yes. I was tricked… and my mirror cracked.” Her tears flowed. “The thing is done, and we must hurry. Please.”
Her sorrow was palpable. I wanted some clarification—mirror cracked? Huh? It didn’t seem the time. But maybe…. “I know this story.” And lines from a Tennyson poem we had to memorize in seventh grade came back: The mirror cracked from side to side. The Lady of Shallot.
Jerod nodded. “But she dies in that… and Lance… holy crap! He’s Sir Lancelot—as in King Arthur and the round table, Lancelot.”
Katherine gritted her teeth and urged Lance forward. With each step, it seemed he aged another year. Bald patches on his scalp, hands like bird claws clutched the walker as he shuffled.
We followed them to the elevators and down to the front of the library, back through security, and out to the street.
Lance’s breath was labored. The air rattled in his lungs.
Katherine looked around the busy avenue, oblivious to the attention she attracted. Men stopped to stare at the gorgeous redhead, her curves on display in her pink camisole, fishnets, and mini. “There.” She pointed toward a church two blocks north. “We must hurry… my love,” she said Lance. “Hang on.”
He didn’t answer, just nodded, and with a determined look he made a step and then another. He faltered, his right knee buckled.
“Help him!” she pleaded.
Jerod grabbed Lance’s arm.
“Please.” Katherine looked at me. “Help me! Help him! Please.” She was frantic.
“Tell me what to do,” I said, careful to not get tricked into unintended questions.
“Carry him.”
“We need an ambulance,” I said.
“No. That won’t help. Please, you must get him to the churchyard.”
A man in a business suit, who’d been openly admiring Katherine, spoke up. “Is there something I can do?”
She glanced at him and then at me.
“No,” I said, and went to Lance’s side. Jerod and I lifted the surprisingly light man, and leaving his walker behind, headed toward the church.
Katherine followed, with changeling Mom bringing up the rear. “Hurry.” Her voice choked with emotion. “Hurry! Run!”
I felt the fragile bones beneath Lance’s shirt. The scraping of his breath was faint. We crossed the street, and I heard a sickening crack as the arm Jerod held fractured.
“Ooh!” Lance made a leathery gasp.
“Hurry!” Katherine was shrieking.
Jerod shot me a panicked look. Not knowing what I was supposed to do, I wrapped my arms around Lance and swept him up. For someone who’d just minutes before been a strapping six-foot-something hunk, he weighed nothing. Maybe thirty pounds… maybe less. His eyes were barely open, his lips cracked and dry.
“Hurryyyyy!” Katherine’s wails drowned out the traffic.
Jerod raced ahead and pushed open the iron gate in front of the Norman-style church.
With the dying man in my arms, I ran through.
Lance grunted… actually… it was more like a croak. The churchyard was dark and filled with shadows. The square steeple was lit by a spotlight. I tried to make sense of what I was seeing in the dim light that seeped through the gates.
“Where is he?” Jerod asked.
I felt the bundle in my arms; there was nothing… no one. An electric-blue shirt, pair of black pants, a leather belt, red boxer briefs, and a pair of leather shoes that dropped one by one to the ground, leaving the socks dangling from the pant legs.
Holding the bundle, I walked into a pool of filtered streetlight, searching for any trace of him. Through the church gates I saw Katherine and changeling Mom.
The redhead was frantic, her hands wrung together, her shoulders shaking as tears flowed. She dropped to the ground.
“I can’t go in there,” Mom said. She stared at the gate and sounded surprised. “Neither can she.”
Nimby, hovering over Mom’s shoulder, nodded, her stolen pink wings flashing in the light.
“Great!” I gave into my frustration and confusion. “Isn’t this the world where things are supposed to make sense?”
I startled at the sound of a frog. Something hopped on the ground. It jumped next to me and then up onto the knee-high cement wall, which provided the base for the wrought-iron fence.
Katherine looked at the frog. And then at me. “He croaked,” she said, as if that explained it all.
Still holding an armfu
l of clothes, I stared at Katherine and then at the frog, which apparently had once been her boyfriend, who had once been an Arthurian knight. “Jerod….”
“Yes, Alex.”
“He’s a frog.”
“Yeah… he croaked.” Jerod started to laugh.
I was trying hard not to.
Katherine glared at him through the gates… and then at me. Tears flowed down her cheeks. The frog hopped off the wall, and with an occasional ribbit, vanished into the cemetery next to the church. I couldn’t hold back… it was too weird. “He croaked….” It felt like my gut would bust from how hard I started to laugh.
Katherine was angry… and then she smiled. “He croaked….” She chuckled and then laughed. “I do love him, though. He is my love. My Lancelot.”
“That’s your special,” Mom said. “You are love, and you were tricked by love. This is why you hate your sister.”
Katherine looked at changeling Mom. “Yes… and Alex Nevus would know the story.”
“Please,” I said.
“And Jerod Haynes,” Katherine said, “is filled with questions. I am in his debt, and he asks good questions.” She pushed her hair from her face and dabbed at her tears. “You may ask a good question, Jerod Haynes.”
He shot me a look. “Okay.” He stood still. “What do you want from us?”
“Yes,” she said, “an important question. I want revenge, Jerod Haynes. I want to give May my sorrow. I want her to suffer…. I want her special.”
Twenty-Two
FOR someone… or something… that had just had her heart broken, Katherine—“call me Katye”—Summer walked like a queen, as the four of us—five, counting Nimby—were led to the back of a dark pub and restaurant.
Heads turned as she passed. Men wanting her, women wanting to know what it would be like to have her beauty. Even for me, who always knew I liked boys, it was hard not to stare. Light danced in the gold and fiery reds of her hair. Her eyes were bright blue… a lot like Alice’s. Her skin was like cream, and her figure—long-limbed and perfect. She held her head high, aware of the attention. She flashed a smile to a handsome diner as his mouth gaped, and he ignored his girlfriend.
We trailed behind. I still had Lance’s blue shirt, which was far nicer than anything I owned. I’d left the rest of his designer duds in the churchyard.
“Lovely,” Katye said as the hostess showed us to a quiet booth. I scooted in next to Jerod. Make-believe Mom slid down the other side, leaving the space across from me for Katye.
“I’ll have them bring appetizers,” the hostess said without us asking.
Katye gave the young woman a tender look as she pivoted and sank into the booth. “My boys are thirsty….” She looked at me and Jerod. “And… too thin. Stout, pints of stout. And shots of whiskey, a single malt with the flavor of peat.”
“Of course,” the hostess said.
Nimby whipped from my shoulder to Jerod’s. “You’re too young to drink, Alex Nevus.”
Katye pointed a finger at my fairy, with her stolen pink rhinestone wings. “And you should not exist,” she said.
Nimby shut up. She seemed frightened.
“A fairy mystery,” Katye said as she stared at Nimby. A candle in a red glass holder threw flickering shadows onto the rough plaster walls. Like a second table above us, even Nimby visible on Jerod’s shoulder. “A night of mystery.” She threw back her head and laughed.
I glanced at Jerod. He shrugged. It so wasn’t worth asking—what’s so funny?
She wouldn’t stop.
A pretty waitress with a ponytail returned with our drinks. She looked at Jerod and me and hesitated. While I was no big fan of alcohol—not that I’d had a lot of experience—I was looking forward to a little something to dial down my nerves. I watched the waitress start to say “IDs please…” or something to that effect. Her mouth opened, the words about to spill out, when she looked at Katye.
Even in the dim light, the change to the young woman was noticeable, a glassiness in her expression, a shift in her smile. Her mouth hung open with one question, and she changed it to another…. “What’s so funny?”
Katye’s blue eyes reflected the flame of the candle. Like there was a fire inside of her. “He croaked.” And she was overtaken by another round of musical laughter.
“We all got to go sometime,” the waitress replied, distributing shots of whiskey and pints of stout.
“Not all of us,” Katye said. She smiled at the young server. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked, seemingly unconcerned by the give and take of questions.
“I don’t,” she said, her gaze fixed on Katye. “And right now… men are the last thing from my mind.” She was flirting.
“Yes,” Katye replied. “I can have that effect.” She looked the girl up and down…. “Your last man treated you badly.”
“He cheated,” she said, her jaw tensed.
“And you were true. He must be punished.”
“If only things worked that way,” the waitress said.
“But they can,” Katye replied. “They often do. You gave him love, and he repaid you with betrayal.… If you were queen for a day, what would his punishment be?”
“It really hurt,” the waitress said. “Like he’d punched me. He did it with one of my friends….”
“Worse and worse,” Katye said.
I noted the candle’s reflection in Katye’s eyes. But no, not a single flame, but the blue of her irises replaced with fire. I sipped whiskey and felt the cool burn on my tongue and down my throat. Jerod pressed his leg against mine. I snorted and started to cough.
Katye glanced at me and then at the waitress, who seemed rooted in place. “Tell me his punishment,” she said.
“Pain,” the waitress said. “The same as I felt.”
“No,” Katye said, and she reached up and took the young woman’s hand. “His should be three times what he gave to you. It’s only right, it’s only fair… consider it done.”
The waitress shook her head. “I totally zoned.” She glanced down at Jerod and me, “Great… oh, what the hell. You’re both over twenty-one…. Right?”
“It’s fine,” Katye said. “Bring us whatever is good and filling. It’s been a long night, and there’s many hours before the dawn.”
“You got it… there’s a brisket to die for… and….” She stared at Katye. “Why do men hurt us in love?”
“It depends on the man, dear. But the reasons are three. He does not love you, he only wants sex, or he is of faint heart. The trick is digging through the lies and liars and finding one who will accept your love and return it with his own. A man who will take you as you are, and find you precious.” Katye sighed.
“Thank you,” the waitress said, and off she went.
Katye looked between me and Jerod.
I wondered at her words to the waitress. I felt Jerod’s leg pressed against mine. Maybe it was the whiskey, but all I could think was that I was in love—truly, completely in love with Jerod. His leg against mine was real.… Those kisses. He certainly wasn’t faint of heart; if anything, his trip to the land of whack-a-do put him on the opposite side—he was heroic.
“Shingles,” Katye said.
“Huh?” Jerod grunted, his hand on my thigh.
Changeling Mom nodded and said, “That’s what she’ll give the bad boyfriend. They’re very painful.”
“Yes,” Katye replied. “Open sores are always suspect in young relationships. His new love will leave him.”
The whiskey and foamy stout on an empty stomach made my thoughts zip. Suddenly I didn’t care about the cost of questions. I wanted answers… and I wanted to be alone with Jerod. But then I pictured Alice… her tears, her fear, and this crushing sense that while we sat here, horrible things could be happening. Was this all a crushing waste of time? “Why is the punishment times three? It’s like a wives’ tale that whatever you do… especially bad things come back threefold.”
Katye nodded. “Easy answer, Alex
Nevus. The first is for balance, to set the scales straight. The second is for punishment, and the third is the fey portion… a bit of a sacrifice. Now I’ve a story to tell. Drink your whiskey, boys, more shall come, and the songs that I sing will dance in your heads. It’s a tale of three sisters, of a world before mankind. In the beginning there was only dark, and then God struck a match, and the first fairy was born.”
She was right about the whiskey. The things that spilled from her mouth went down better with a buzz. Kind of a cross between the Old Testament, complete with Adam and Eve, a flood, another flood, and then brutal wars between factions of the fey.
“Entire races wiped out…,” she said. “Creatures of amazing size and abilities, one moment there and then gone… no trace. While we fought amongst ourselves, the children of Adam and Eve multiplied and spread. Puny, but quick-witted. By the time the Fairy Wars had ended, it was too late.”
“For what?” I asked, and I felt a twinge of my earlier fear.
“Don’t fret, Alex Nevus. We are deep in each other’s pockets, ask free and drink well.”
“Why are you trying to get him drunk?” Jerod asked.
“Not drunk,” she said. “Softened, the both of you. For I’ve favors to give and favors to ask.”
His hand found mine beneath the table.
“Why was it too late?” I repeated, squeezing Jerod’s fingers. The two of us pressed together like conjoined twins, not caring if anyone saw us.
“Because the war had been won… by my father… but the bigger war had been lost. The world was no longer ours. It had been claimed by the children of Adam and Eve, and their vision of what was and what was not—the See and the Unsee—had taken root. Like you, Alex Nevus, they had learned the trick. How to make a fairy die.”
“Ignore her,” I said.
“Yes. And the children of Adam closed their eyes to the fey, and the mists roared across our world, devouring everything. Our extinction was upon us, and into this terror my mother and my father brought forth three daughters—Lizbeta, May, and Katye. Each of us was gifted a special—peace, power, and love. And then my father took my mother’s hand, and leaving their children, they walked into the mist.”
