Wood Sprites - eARC

by Wen Spencer

  April was surprisingly young and pretty. She was wearing a tight black dress and last night’s makeup. “Wow, I didn’t think Girl Scouts went door to door anymore. Are you sure you’re allowed to do this? It’s not really safe, even with a dog that big.”

  “Hi,” Jillian said. “Can we ask you some questions?”

  “I’ll buy a box or two. I love Thin Mints. Let me get my purse.”

  She started to close the door but Louise put her foot in the door. “Wait! We want to know what happened to your babies.”

  Jillian glared at her for going off script.

  “My what?” April said.

  “Eighteen years ago, you visited the Cryobank fertility clinic in Manhattan and were implanted with four embryos—but you live in a one-bedroom apartment. What happened to your babies?”

  April glanced down the hallway and lowered her voice. “How do you know about that? Who told you that?”

  “Your babies are our sisters,” Louise said. “We’re the embryos that weren’t implanted in you.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” April whispered. “Come in.”

  The apartment was cluttered but clean. The floor was swept but every surface was crowded with interesting stuff. Books. Art. Toys. They parked Tesla in the corner, staring at the door. April disappeared into the kitchen to make tea.

  “I always thought that there be a day when the doorbell would ring and it would be her wanting to know who the hell I thought I was, having a baby for money and walking away, leaving her there, on that world.”

  A baby. “You only had one? A girl?”

  There was silence in the kitchen. April came to lean on the doorway. “Yeah. A little girl. You know, you can only leave Pittsburgh once a month, and she was born the day after Startup, so I was there with her for thirty days, knowing that she wasn’t really mine. It was so hard to walk away. To stay away. But as they say—you make your bed, you have to sleep in it.

  “I wanted out off Elfhome. I was seven when Startup took Pittsburgh to Elfhome. It woke us up in the middle of night. The power off. The phones not working. Giant trees where our backyard had been, pressed right up against our house. A saurus attacked our neighbor’s house the next morning. We could hear them screaming. My dad told us to lock ourselves in the bathroom and he went down the street with his hunting rifle and shot it.

  “Here.” She went across the living room to a bookcase and got down a picture frame. “This is him with it.”

  Her father looked like an African explorer with a thick mustache and tan hunting jacket. He beamed with pride at the camera behind the saurus’ massive head, its mouth propped open to show off hundreds of long sharp teeth.

  “One day twenty-first century, the next you’re living in the Stone Age, complete with dinosaurs. My parents loved it, but it scared me. Strangle vines ate our dog. A tree ate my favorite teacher. A fish ate one of my friends. There was a bunch of us standing on the riverbank looking at this strange big fish. It was a fish. We thought as long as we didn’t go into the water, we’d be safe. And then all of the sudden…” She made a fast snatching motion with her hand. “And the girl standing right next me was gone. There was just one of her shoes…”

  She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be telling little kids like you things like this. It will give you guys nightmares. It will give me nightmares. Do you want something to drink? I have some diet coke and tea.”

  Their parents didn’t let them have either, saying that it would stunt their growth. Personally Louise thought it was because their parents were afraid that caffeine would make them even harder to manage.

  “I’d like tea,” Louise said.

  It turned out tea was more complicated than soda because Jean had what seemed to be an infinite variety of tea. Louise picked a coconut mango oolong. Jillian chose fusion honey, ginseng and white tea. April took a bottle out of the cabinet and added scotch to her Earl Gray.

  “So they paid you to have our sister?” Jillian asked while Louise tried to get the tea sweet enough to drink.

  “Yes.” Jean sighed. “It sounds so horrible, doesn’t it? It felt good and right until it was time to walk away.” She opened the fridge, took out a carton of milk and poured a generous tablespoon into her mug. Her cup read “I ♥ New York.”

  “My family moved to Neville Island, thinking it would be safer. Mr. Bell lived down the street. He was a sweet, little old man. He could fix anything and he was always willing to help out. He saved my life once when I was little; I’d gotten too close to some strangle vine and he cut me free. I felt like I owed him. And it wasn’t like he was going to have sex with me—it would all be neat and medical.”

  “Mr. Bell?” The name on the records had been Leonardo Dufae, the famous inventor. “He was our real father?”

  “No, no, it was his son. Um. Gosh, I’d forgotten his name. I never met him. He’d been killed on Earth. He had donated some—” She paused, blushing slightly. Apparently she just remembered that they were just kids.

  “Sperm.” Louise provided the proper word.

  “Yes.” The blush deepened. “Genetic material. It was all that Mr. Bell had left of his son. He just wanted a grandchild. The baby, though, had to be born in Pittsburgh if it was going to grow up on Elfhome with Mr. Bell. The elves limited immigration to a handful of people a year. The EIA—the Earth Interdimensional Agency—preapproves the applicants. They want scientists and researchers, not babies. There weren’t any fertility clinics in Pittsburgh, not after the first Startup, and he couldn’t have gotten any surrogate mother from Earth into Pittsburgh for more than a month. Since in vitro babies are often premature—it would have been hit or miss whether his granddaughter would be born on Earth or Elfhome. He didn’t want to risk having the EIA declare she didn’t qualify for the family immigration rule.”

  “So the surrogate had to be a Pittsburgher,” Louise said.

  April nodded. “I could come to New York City, have the—the procedure and go back to Pittsburgh until it was time for her to be born. I would get money to move to Earth. Go to college. We would all live happily ever after. It seemed so simple.”

  “So she’s still in Pittsburgh?” Jillian asked.

  “Oh, yes.” April got down a leather book from the bookcase. “Mr. Bell sends me a photo every year or so. At least he used to; last time he did, he wrote that the lack of technology on Elfhome frustrates her. I think he’s afraid that if she finds out about me, that she’ll use me as an excuse to come to Earth. This is her.”

  The first few pictures looked like their own baby pictures where their parents squint and go “Is this Jillian or Louise?” and their mother would mutter how she should have tagged their photos. At three, though, their sister became wholly herself. Her hair was boy short. She sported a bandage in nearly every photo. In one she had a black eye, looking extremely pleased. She wore bright T-shirts, blue jeans and often was barefoot. There wasn’t a doll or stuffed animal in any of the pictures, but wheeled vehicles that grew larger and larger as she did. When she was nine, she had a go-kart. Louise felt a stab of jealousy.

  The last photo held another big surprise; it showed Orville and Alexander together, looking like brother and sister instead of cousins. Orville beamed with joy, arms wrapped around Alexander as she leaned comfortably back on him.

  “Is that Orville?” Jillian asked.

  April seemed surprised by the question and then laughed. “Of course you know about him. Yes, it is Orville. He’s living with his grandfather. He and Alexander bonded; they’re inseparable. Last time Mr. Bell wrote me, they were building go-karts and racing them all over Neville Island.”

  So it was possible for family to be close as twins even if they were years apart, raised on separate worlds. Louise touched fingers reverently to the photo—proof that they were right in believing that saving their baby brother and sisters would be a wonderful thing.

  “Is it really that bad? Living in Pittsburgh?” Jillian asked. “It seems so…fantastical. With magic. Dinosa
urs. Elves. Dragons.”

  April laughed. “We didn’t have any dragons in Pittsburgh, thank god. The elves are gorgeous. But magic? It was really just an annoyance. It made machines not work right. Most humans were clueless how to deal with it. Mr. Bell was an exception. He picked it up somehow.”

  Obviously the Dufae were all clever, including their sister.

  “How did our mother get involved in all this?” They found that most puzzling since their father had died when their mother was still in middle school.

  “Esme? Oh, it was all her idea at first. I was there the day she first showed up. She was there, staying the month with her sister up at the Observatory. I think she scared Mr. Bell, talking about his son being killed, and everything. He kept saying ‘I’m not who you think I am.’ Finally she said something like ‘the bloodline of his unbounded brilliance must go on. Without his light, darkness will take everything.’”

  Louise felt shivers go down her back and her teacup rattled on the saucer. She fought to still her hand. She felt like she just heard the most true thing in her life and it scared her.

  Jillian hadn’t noticed; she was leaned forward, eyes wide. “Ooohhh, that is so cool.”

  “What darkness?” Louise asked.

  April shrugged and eyed her empty teacup. “I’d grown up in a Pittsburgh that was fast becoming a ghost town compared to what it was. I’d never met anyone like Esme before. In New York, you meet them here and there, the big fish in a big pond. The movers. The shakers. Forces of nature. She scared me. I started to edge away, saying goodbye. I don’t think she had noticed I was in the room until I tried to escape. She turned and saw me by the door and went ‘You!’” Jean pointed forcibly at the door, nearly shouting the word, making Louise jump. “‘You’re going to help! How would you like to make a million dollars?’”

  “A million dollars?” Louise asked.

  “She paid you a million dollars to have our sister?” Jillian clarified.

  April laughed. “Crazy? Right? I didn’t believe her at first, but then she gave me some jewelry as down payment. This amazing tennis bracelet.” She held up her right wrist to show off the glitter of large diamonds and blue gemstones. “And a Rolex woman’s wrist watch. Her family is rich and she had this crazy plan of going into space and never coming back, so she was blowing it all on this baby.”

  “A million dollars for our sister?” Jillian tone had changed slightly. And Louise understood completely: a million dollars for their older sister and nothing for their siblings still frozen in the lab.

  “She had a ton of rules. I wasn’t allowed to drink or smoke or do drugs or even date—the last wasn’t that hard considering all the decent boys had left Pittsburgh. She swore me to secrecy—I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone about the baby. Not my parents. Not her parents. Not even her sister. It would have been impossible to do in the summer but we had a hard winter and spring was late. I could hide the fact I was pregnant under layers of clothes.”

  “You’re telling us,” Louise pointed out.

  “Oh, you guys are the exception to the rule.” April got up to start poking among her bookcase. “She said that if any of her kids were to show up at my door, I was to tell them everything. Answer every question. And—where is it—Oh, here.” April pulled out a square wooden box. “And to give you this.”

  “This” was a Chinese puzzle box, lacquered with a beautiful pattern. April held it out to them and when neither took it, sat it down on the coffee table between them.

  “Are you sure she meant us and not our older sister?” Louise asked.

  “She said ‘any kid.’ I think she even added something like ‘one or two, together or alone, boy or girl.’” April frowned for a moment. “Where exactly did you come from?”

  Louise glanced at Jillian. They hadn’t come up with a cover story for that.

  “We’d rather not say,” Jillian said.

  “Our parents stole us,” Louise said.

  April rubbed at the ridge of her nose. “It’s like your whole family has been cursed to live weird and bizarre lives.”

  “We are not weird,” Louise said.

  “Oh, so it’s perfectly normal for kids your age to disguise themselves as Girl Scouts and ambush people at their front door?”

  “We are not disguised as Girl Scouts,” Louise snapped. “We are Girl Scouts. There’s a difference. Do you want to order cookies or not?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take two boxes of Thin Mints.”

  * * *

  They managed to talk April into two Thin Mints, a box of Samoas and a box of Trefoils, scanned all the pictures of their sister, and copied all personal data on Tim Bell and his granddaughter including his phone number and address. Despite being out all night, April insisted on walking them back to the subway station. They barely kept her from escorting them the entire way home, escaping her protection only by promising to go straight home.

  “Alexander Graham Bell.” Louise rolled the name around, trying to get used to the idea that they had an older sister, nearly eighteen. “Do you think she goes by Alex or Al or Alexi or Xander?”

  “Xander?”

  “I would,” Louise said. “Don’t you think it’s cool? Xander Bell.”

  “Alexander Graham Bell is a stupid name. The acting guild would make you change it. The inventor would spam all hits on your name.”

  “It would be a way no one could find you—if the first thousand hits was the inventor, people would give up looking for you. I think it’s ingenious.”

  Jillian glared at her and then kicked at the seat in front of them. “It should be Dufae. Tim Bell is obviously Timothy Dufae, Leonardo’s father. Why is he going by the name Bell?”

  “He’s hiding.”

  “From who?”

  “Whoever killed Leonardo?”

  They had just boarded the last train, switching off the feed from mini-Tesla and reactivating Tesla link with their parents, when Louise’s phone rang. She squeaked with alarm: had their parents caught them?

  “Hello?” she said tentatively.

  Jillian scowled at her; apparently she sounded guilty. Why did her mom pick her to call? Because she knew Jillian lied better?

  “Are you still at work?” Louise added to explain her tone. Jillian leaned against her to hear the full conversation. “I thought you’d be at the Forest Forever event until late.”

  “Louise! Is Jillian with you?” their mother asked, voice full of concern. “Are you two okay?”

  “Yes.” They answered the first question in unison.

  “We’re fine,” Jillian said as Louise examined the question for traps. They hadn’t done anything to warrant a phone call, so something must have happened elsewhere.

  “Where are you?” their mother asked with sirens blaring near her.

  Louise was glad she could stick to the truth. “We’re on the N train, heading home. We just left Queensboro. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” And then hesitantly, she added, “There was an idiot protester with a car bomb but the police took care of it. It pushed our schedule back nearly two hours. I probably won’t be home until tomorrow. The company is paying for a room for me to sleep here tonight.”

  “Okay,” Louise said. “But why are you asking if we’re okay?”

  “According to a linked story, some of the protestors attacked a nine-year-old at Grand Central Station. Reports are conflicting. Some of them are saying it was a boy who was taken to a hospital and others are saying it was a girl and she wasn’t hurt. I know you were nowhere near there but I got worried and had to call to check on you.”

  Louise winced. Since they’d taken the 7 train into the city from the cookie sales, they’d been at Grand Central Station earlier. It had been full of police but Louise had been so focused on their mission that she hadn’t considered why. The N train connected at Lexington Avenue, avoiding Grand Central completely. “We’re fine. We’re almost home.”

  “I’ll call your father and have him meet you at th
e station.”

  “Okay. Bye.” She hung up and stuffed the Chinese puzzle box into the small storage bin in Tesla’s torso. “Oh, god, that was close.”

  Jillian was doing a little victory dance. “But we weren’t caught! We did it! We know all about our older sister and we got something from our genetic donor.”

  But they hadn’t gotten any closer to saving their baby brother and sisters. But maybe something in Esme’s mystery box would help them.

  5: PUZZLE BOX

  The Chinese puzzle box took them the rest of the day to unlock.

  “Esme’s lucky we’re smart,” Jillian complained.

  “Maybe if we weren’t smart, she didn’t want us to open it.” Louise spread out the contents.

  There were six old-fashioned 2D photographs within the box and an odd rectangle of metal slightly bigger than their pinkies.

  “What’s this?” Jillian picked up the mystery item and eyed it closely.

  “I don’t know.” Louise watched as Jillian carefully pulled the object into two parts. One piece was a cap that fit over some type of socket at the end.

  “I think it plugs into something.” Jillian eyed the pronged ending.

  Louise picked up the box and examined it closely for hidden connectors. “This doesn’t have any place to plug anything into it.”

  Jillian shook her head. “If I was going to leave something for my kids before getting into a spaceship and leaving Earth forever, I’d leave a hell of lot more. Like pictures of you and our parents, and copies of my movies and Fritz.”

  Fritz was Jillian’s toddler-sized handmade quilt. Their Grandmother Mayer made both of them one before she died. Louise abandoned her blanket in some long forgotten period of time, but Jillian’s became a fifth member of the family. For years, Jillian never went anywhere without carrying Fritz. It was how everyone told them apart—a fact they used to their advantage often. Luckily when they reached first grade, Jillian was pursuaded that Fritz was in danger of falling apart and should retire to her bed, inside a protective pillowcase. While they hadn’t actually seen Fritz for years, Jillian still slept every night hugging him close.