Box of Frogs

by Helen Harper

  You wouldn’t think it would be this hard simply to gain internet access. I tried again, glancing at the woman’s name badge. Paeonia: unpronounceable as well as daft. ‘Hello. I would like to use one of the computers. I don’t have ID but I promise I’m a good person.’

  Paeonia’s green eyes shifted from side to side, as if she were checking for eavesdroppers. Then she dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘You got any dust?’

  I almost shrieked. ‘What the freak is dust?’

  ‘Keep your voice down! You only had to say no. Honestly.’ She rolled her eyes to the heavens.

  I gritted my teeth. The conversation might have taken a wholly unexpected turn but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I wasn’t getting anywhere fast by being honest so I had to switch tactics – and as smoothly as possible to avoid raising suspicion. ‘Okay,’ I said, waggling my eyebrows in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘I was just checking. You can’t be too careful.’ I leaned forward. ‘I can’t get you any dust until I know for certain that you know what it is and what to do with it. It’s … important stuff after all. I need to know you’re worthy.’

  She bobbed her head as if she completely agreed with me. ‘Oh, I’m worthy. I’ve taken it many times before. I love pixie dust,’ she said reverently. ‘I don’t know what’s in it, of course. It’s a secret formula. But it makes all of this,’ she waved an arm around, ‘just a little bit easier to manage.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ I nodded sagely in return. ‘You say you’ve taken it many times before?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  I gripped the desk with both hands. ‘What does it look like then?’

  Her brow creased. ‘Grey. Sparkly. Like … dust.’

  Duh. I should have guessed. ‘Why are you asking me about it?’

  Her eyes darted from side to side once more. ‘Because you’re Madrona.’

  Huh. I was obviously quite a prolific superhero if so many people knew my name. Dust sounded like it was some kind of medicine – or drug. Whatever it was, it was clearly doing some good. By this woman’s own admission, it made everything better. I pursed my lips. Was I a doctor?

  ‘Have we met?’ I enquired.

  ‘Oh no. I saw you once in the street with Rubus but we’ve never officially been introduced. Everyone knows who you are, though.’

  I nibbled on my bottom lip. ‘Well, I still need to confirm that you’re trustworthy and that you know what you’re getting yourself into. So tell me everything you know about Rubus.’

  Another library customer appeared at my side. ‘Hello! Can you tell me where the historical fiction section is?’

  I turned. ‘It’s very rude to interrupt.’

  ‘It’s over there,’ Paeonia said, pointing. She glanced back at me once the customer had gone. ‘You’re testing me. I’m not an idiot. I won’t say a word about Rubus.’ She drew a line across her lips. ‘Don’t worry about that.’

  Gasbudlikins.

  A man in a wheelchair trundled up. ‘Good afternoon. Do you have the key for the disabled toilet?’

  I rolled my eyes. This time, the woman moved a bit faster before I could snap at this new irritant. She quickly handed over a large key and he wheeled away.

  I had about a million questions. She might not be willing to talk about Rubus but I reckoned I could glean plenty more information from her. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘You seem like you’re … good enough for some dust. I’ll bring some in tomorrow.’ But of course, once I received the answers I was looking for she wouldn’t even see me for dust. Boom boom.

  ‘You don’t have any on you now?’ Her shoulders drooped. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I could maybe try to get hold of some,’ I demurred. ‘If you tell me where I can get some nux.’

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Nux? But…’ Her face paled dramatically as her eyes flickered to yet another bloody customer behind me.

  I sighed loudly and stepped back so she could deal with whoever it was. Then I froze. Dark and Despicable glared at me with frosty rage then grabbed my arm. ‘This conversation is over.’

  ‘Wait, I—’

  ‘I mean it, Madrona. You’re coming with me.’ He lifted his green-eyed gaze to Paeonia. ‘You should watch yourself,’ he added coolly.

  She looked utterly terrified. ‘I’m sorry. I mean it! I’m really sorry! It wasn’t me, though. It’s all her fault.’ She pointed a long bony finger at me.

  Irritated, I tried to wrench myself out of DD’s grasp. I wasn’t beyond making a scene if I needed to.

  ‘Don’t try anything,’ he murmured in my ear, his voice like tempered steel sheathed with pure silk. ‘Not unless you want more rowan flooding your system, Maddy.’

  I felt something jabbing the side of my ribs. Rowan. That was the stuff that I’d been poisoned with. The arsebadger was threatening me! Unwilling to risk it, I gritted my teeth and forced my body to relax. A moment later, and with an iron grip, DD led me straight out of the library at high speed.

  Chapter Eight

  When we reached the steps outside, I felt DD’s weight shift and the sharp object pressing into my side disappeared. I whirled away from him. ‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ I demanded.

  He casually slipped his hands into his pockets before I could see exactly what manner of rowan weapon he was carrying and regarded me disdainfully. ‘I might ask the same of you.’

  ‘You threatened me!’ I spat. ‘In a library of all places!’

  ‘You’re soliciting custom, Madrona. Spreading your tentacles across the city – as if you didn’t have your talons in everything already.’

  I glared. ‘Well, it’s either tentacles or talons. I don’t think it’s physically possible to have both.’

  He didn’t blink. ‘So you’re admitting it. You were selling your disgusting dust out in the open. In broad daylight.’

  ‘Hardly,’ I scoffed. ‘I just wanted to use a damn computer to do some research. That woman approached me, not the other way around. Besides, what’s it to you?’

  DD’s nostrils flared slightly. ‘You dare ask that of me?’

  For goodness’ sake. It was like having a conversation with a brick wall. I stepped towards him to indicate that I wasn’t in the slightest bit afraid of him. ‘Why is this dust stuff so abhorrent to you?’

  He gazed at me in abject disbelief. ‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He tutted loudly, turned on his heel and strode away, calling over his shoulder, ‘Don’t let me catch you selling again.’

  Nuh-uh. I wasn’t going to let him get off that easily. Not this time. Forgetting that he’d only just threatened me, I sprang after him and grabbed his arm.

  He turned back, sneering as he gazed at my hand clutching his elbow. ‘Let go of me.’

  ‘Why? It’s alright for you to manhandle me but when the shoe is on the other foot, I’m some sort of evil being? I told you,’ I hissed, ‘I’ve got amnesia. All I’m trying to do is find out who I really am. Not to mention who you are.’

  ‘And I told you,’ he snapped back, ‘that I’m not falling for your games. Not this time.’ He continued staring at my hand. ‘Why in Fey haven’t you sorted that wound out yet?’

  I let go of him. ‘Have you not been listening? I. Have. Amnesia. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what’s wrong with my finger except that it hurts like hell and you told me I’d been poisoned by rowan and I should get some nux to heal it. Except I don’t know what nux is. I tried a pharmacist and he just thought I was nuts.’

  For a moment he looked at me with fathomless eyes. ‘Rubus,’ he began.

  ‘I don’t know who Rubus is!’ I shrieked. ‘Bloody hell, DD, why can’t you just put aside your own issues and listen to me?’

  Something odd sparked in his expression. ‘DD?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know your real name, do I? I can’t remember it.’

  He moved up to me until we were barely inches apart. He really did smell very good. I inhaled deeply while he merely frowned. ‘What
does DD stand for?’

  His scent was making me feel light-headed. ‘Dark and Despicable, of course.’

  He laughed aloud ‘Right.’

  ‘You’ve got to admit that it fits.’ I shrugged.

  The corner of his mouth crooked up as if he were amused. ‘Come on, Maddy. Stop this idiocy and just say my name. You used to scream it to the heavens when I made you come. You used to whisper it in that husky, aroused voice of yours when I kissed you on that special spot on your neck.’

  My jaw slowly dropped. ‘You and me? We … did the dirty? Made the beast with two backs? Loaded the clown into the cannon?’ I scanned him up and down. Well, go me. Although it was hardly surprising that I’d dumped him in the end, given what an arsebadger he was.

  He curved his head down. ‘Up until,’ he murmured huskily, while I held my breath, my fingers longing to reach up and gently rub against the stubble at his jawline, ‘you betrayed me.’

  I exhaled loudly and stared at him. When he pulled back again his eyes were cold and distant.

  ‘I…’ I swallowed. ‘What did I do?’

  A muscle ticked in his cheek and he gazed at me, apparently unwilling to say. I stared him out. He was the one with all the answers – not me.

  ‘Fine,’ he said eventually, after the drawn-out silence apparently became too much. ‘You say you’ve got amnesia and you don’t remember who you are? Well, then I’ll show you.’ He turned away once more and began walking across the pedestrianised square. When I didn’t follow him immediately, he looked back at me. ‘Come on then.’

  ‘Are you going to hurt me?’ I asked, raising my voice.

  ‘As if I could,’ he muttered. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Last chance, Madrona. Come or don’t come. It’s your choice.’

  Like I really had a choice. I watched him stride away for a moment or two and then raced to catch up with him. ‘Before we go,’ I said, ‘just tell me one thing. What is your real name?’

  He blew air out through his pursed lips in exasperation. ‘Morganus,’ he said. ‘But call me Morgan.’

  ***

  Morgan marched along the street at breakneck speed. I was sure he was waiting for me to complain so I made a point of keeping up with him. At least the question of both his name – and the identity of the mysterious Morganus – had been solved.

  I had a horrible uneasy sensation deep in the pit of my stomach that suggested I might not like the answers to my other queries. Maybe I wasn’t the wonderful superhero I thought I was. Maybe I was nothing more than a cuckolding dust dealer. I couldn’t quit now, though; I had to know the truth. Besides, who was to say that Morgan’s truth was the same as my truth? I didn’t feel like the bad person he clearly believed I was. Sure, I had a mean streak but I wasn’t the damn Sugar Plum Fairy. I couldn’t be nice all the time.

  I was so caught up in the turmoil of my own thoughts that I didn’t notice when he stopped. Almost inevitably, because I was a step or two behind him despite my best efforts to keep pace, I collided with his body. He let out a muttered expletive and all but leapt away from me.

  ‘Is it contagious?’ I asked, genuinely curious.

  His eyes narrowed at me. ‘Is what contagious?’

  ‘You know.’ I held up my finger. ‘This rowan poison business.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Then why did you jump away from me like that?’ I enquired. ‘In fact, when you grabbed hold of me in the library you were determined to let go as soon as you possibly could.’ I sniffed at my clothes. I smelled reasonably clean.

  All he did was answer my question with another question. ‘As far as I can tell,’ he said, ‘the only thing you seem to have forgotten is how to filter your thoughts. Do you say every single thing that crosses your mind?’

  I considered. No, not everything – but perhaps more than was comfortable. ‘Would it be better if I didn’t say what I was thinking? If I hid my thoughts and my agenda and pretended to be something I’m not?’

  Morgan’s lip curled. ‘I honestly cannot believe that you of all people are asking me that.’ He shook his head in disbelief.

  I shrugged. Whatever. The man was clearly determined to avoid giving me a straight answer to anything, despite his reluctant promise to the contrary. ‘Never mind,’ I sighed. ‘Why have we stopped here?’ I looked around.

  Morgan watched me carefully. ‘You really don’t know?’

  I glowered. ‘I’ve got…’

  ‘Amnesia. Yes. So you keep saying.’ He ran a hand through his jet-black hair. ‘Just wait a minute and all will be revealed.’

  I frowned and looked around. We were in a small, nondescript street not too far from the city centre. There was a Polish supermarket on the other side of the road and a tasty-looking kebab shop right behind us. Up in front by the corner stood a pretty church, complete with steeple and rusting weather vane. There were a few people dotted here and there but they all looked as if they were going their own separate ways to their own separate destinations. None of them paid either Morgan or me the slightest bit of attention.

  I began to hum tunelessly, keeping myself occupied. Morgan stiffened and shot me a quick look. I didn’t bother to glance in his direction; instead I tapped my foot in time to my tune and leaned casually against the wall. He tutted and checked his watch. He gave a brief nod of satisfaction and, a few seconds later, the door to the church opened and people began to pile out.

  I gazed at them all, confused. Although they came in all shapes and sizes, with different styles of clothing and a range of ages, there was something in all of their faces, some twist of pain, which was remarkably similar. I frowned. ‘Were they praying?’ I asked.

  Morgan shot me a look from under his eyelashes. ‘AA.’

  As I tried to make sense of this, a tall man with stooped shoulders shuffled out. He cupped his hands to light a cigarette and I felt a tug of nicotine longing. Then he glanced to his right and spotted us – or should I say he spotted Morgan. His expression lightened then he spotted me and he seemed to cower.

  A few of the others clapped him on the back as they departed but he only had eyes for us.

  Once most of the others had dispersed, Morgan called over to him. ‘It’s alright, Vandrake. She’s on a close rein.’

  I stiffened. I didn’t feel I was in a position to say anything but, all the same, I managed a quick snipe at Morgan. ‘A tight rein? Does that mean you still want to ride me?’

  It was Morgan’s turn to stiffen. Just his shoulders, not any other part of him. He kept the friendly smile directed at Vandrake; he was far more of an expert at dissembling than I was. And what was it about people with strange names?

  ‘Either we’re doing this, Madrona, or we’re not. It’s entirely your call,’ he murmured under his breath.

  I raised my shoulders in an irritated shrug. Fine. Whatever.

  Vandrake walked over, reluctance dogging every step. When he reached us, he made sure to side step so that Morgan’s large frame was blocking me.

  ‘What is she doing here, Morgan?’ He took a long, shaky drag on his cigarette.

  ‘Don’t worry about her. I won’t let her touch you. In fact, she won’t even talk to you. I promise.’

  I opened my mouth to interrupt and tell him in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t prevent me from speaking but when Morgan’s head turned towards me and I saw the dangerous glint in his eyes, I changed my mind.

  ‘How did the meeting go?’ Morgan asked softly.

  Obviously still disturbed by my presence, Vandrake wrinkled his nose and obfuscated. ‘S’okay. I’m not giving away any truths, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘The thought never even crossed my mind,’ Morgan said.

  I wasn’t sure that Vandrake even heard him. ‘I’ve told them it’s cocaine. I thought about saying heroin but then I’d probably be expected to be on methadone for the withdrawal and I’m not sure I could pull off those conversations.’ He flicked ash onto the pavement. His hands were
still trembling.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Morgan reiterated. ‘I know you wouldn’t give us away or allude to anything out of the ordinary.’ He reached out and squeezed Vandrake’s shoulder. ‘You’re doing really well. I’m not here to jeopardise that.’

  He received a watery smile in return. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘How long have you been off the dust?’ Morgan enquired.

  Vandrake threw another nervy look in my direction. As if burned by the action, his eyes hastily slid away again. ‘Eighty-two days.’

  ‘That’s amazing.’ Morgan sounded for all the world like he meant it. ‘Who was your original supplier?’

  Vandrake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His answer was barely audible. ‘She was.’

  There was no question which ‘she’ he was referring to. I examined him more curiously. There was nothing to indicate he was lying. Not that it mattered. I already had it on good authority that this pixie-dust stuff was a good thing. It made everything better.

  ‘How did it make you feel? When you were taking it?’

  Vandrake took one last swift drag, the end of the cigarette glowing before he dropped it under his toe and stubbed it out. ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘Humour me,’ Morgan said. ‘I’m making a point.’ He jerked his head in my direction.

  Vandrake’s mouth tightened but he still answered. ‘I felt like I was flying.’ He rubbed his shoulders. ‘That ache that’s always there? You know the one.’

  Morgan nodded. I stared. What ache?

  ‘Well,’ Vandrake continued, ‘it vanished. The dust made me feel like it didn’t matter. That I could be happy here despite…’ His voice drifted off and his eyes glazed over momentarily. ‘Well, you know.’

  ‘But you needed more, didn’t you? Every time you took some, you needed a little bit more.’

  Vandrake bit his lip and looked down, toeing the ground. ‘I would do anything for some more.’

  Morgan’s expression hardened. ‘Anything for Rubus. Anything for her.’

  Vandrake nodded, unwilling to look at me again. ‘I was an addict.’ His jaw clenched. ‘I am an addict. It never goes away.’