by Kara Jaynes
“Stop.” A strong, masculine voice cuts through the air from behind me, freezing my blood. It has a strange, lilting quality to it, and is decidedly not human. “You’re under arrest for trespassing and being out past curfew.”
I throw myself over the side, landing on the pavement with a grunt, my legs trembling from the impact. I don’t look behind me. I’ve heard the stories; how an elf’s stare is enough to steal your free will, turning you into a mindless drone, and how they lock humans away for experiments. If an elf captures you, you’ll never be free again.
In the dark of night, in danger of being captured, the stories feel all too real. I tear off into the night, ignoring the elf’s voice, and slip down the first alley I come across. There’s a pack of dream vagrants there, and one turns toward me with a groan. I run past them, almost as frightened of them as I am of the elf. Dream vagrants are as good as dead, the drugs putting them in a dream-like state, where they can’t separate fact from fiction. Once they're fully under the influence, they become incredibly violent, trapped in whatever nightmare the drug summons. One good thing about the elves is that there are considerably fewer dream vagrants around now.
I run until I am near the harbor, my breath coming in painful gasps. I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I go back home? I cringe when a truck speeds by, the men inside whistling and catcalling as they pass. I’m almost to Jonah’s shop, though I doubt he’s open after midnight. I might as well go there.
On reaching his store, I rap my knuckles on the front door and knock again a few moments later when he doesn’t answer.
A window opens on the top level. “Closed for business.” Jonah’s voice floats down, sounding decidedly cranky.
“Doesn’t that depend on what I’m selling?” I call, holding back a grin, even though I know he can’t see my expression. I hate smiling.
Silence, and then Jonah laughs. “I’ll be right down, Stella.” Light floods through his window, and, a moment later, downstairs as well.
My gut squirms with nervous anticipation. I purposefully gave him the wrong idea, but I don’t want to carry this crystal around any longer than I have to. I hope he buys it.
When Jonah opens the door, I brush past him, unslinging my pack. He grabs my arm, grinning sleepily. “I knew you’d come to your senses,” he says, closing the door and locking it.
“I’m here to sell some stuff I found,” I say, unwilling to let him go any farther with his delusions.
Jonah’s expression sours. “Oh. Well, couldn’t this have waited until morning, then?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, no. I went diving again. But this time in elven territory.”
Jonah freezes, his gaze wide and almost frightened. “Stars, that was risky, Stella.”
I shrug. “I’m a risky kind of girl.”
He winks at me. “How risky?”
I roll my eyes. “Here.” I pass him the coil of gold wire I found and the thin copper tubes. “I found these.”
He takes them from me and places them on his counter, eyeing them critically. “Hmm.”
“They’re decent metals. They gotta be worth a good chunk of cash.”
He glowers at me. “Is this what you woke me up for?”
“Not quite.” I pull the crystal out of my pocket and place it on the counter. It catches the light, gleaming in a myriad of colors.
Jonah stares at it, wide-eyed. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup.” I can’t keep the smugness out of my voice. “An elven crystal. Can’t say that it works anymore, but you know they hold a lot of value, regardless, because of how rare they are. Bet you haven’t had one of these beauties in your ramshackle shop before.”
That he doesn’t have a retort shows just how astounded he is. He tries to hide it though, rubbing his hand over his chin pensively. “I’ll give you two hundred dollars for the whole lot.”
I jut my chin out stubbornly. “Four hundred.”
“Deal.”
I start in surprise and then eye him suspiciously. I can’t help but feel that I just got the short end of the stick in the negotiations. Still, it’s a surreal experience to have someone hand me four hundred dollars in paper bills. This will be enough to buy a month’s worth of medicine for Quinn, not to mention solving my problem of rent.
Jonah is cradling the crystal like it’s a newborn baby. “If you find any more of these crystals, bring them to me,” he says. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
I nod. “Will do.” I turn to leave when a thought crosses my mind. “What do you know of the elves, Jonah?”
He shrugs, and snatching a rag from under the counter, begins to clean his prize. “Same as anyone else, I suppose. They’re immortal, wield magic and science, and rule with hearts of ice.” He snorts. “Lucky devils.”
“Are they gods?”
He eyes me shrewdly. “Only if gods can be killed.”
I swallow, not wanting to know how he knows that. “I guess I’ll be on my way, then.”
“Be careful, Stella,” Jonah warns, his black eyes glinting in the dim light. “If the elves catch you, it will not go well. They are merciless, and they won’t take pity simply because you’re a girl.” His expression turns to a glower. “They may be advanced in some ways, but in matters of human decency, they’re cold. Barbaric, even.”
“Thanks for the warning.” I shoulder my backpack. “I’ll be careful.”
I leave his shop, and head back home, taking a slightly longer route that doesn’t go by the elven fortress. I keep my ears and eyes wide open, on the alert for any trouble. I hear none. I eat one of the pilfered rolls as I walk, smiling at the softness. Perhaps the elves consider it stale, but it’s fluffy compared to the cardboard-like bread I usually buy at the store.
When I stumble through the door and see Quinn is still asleep, I feel a surge of pride. I am victorious. I trash-dived from the elves, and I didn’t get caught. I have four hundred dollars in my pocket, enough to keep us going for a while yet. Jonah is eager to continue business as usual, and Quinn is going to be just fine.
I drag myself to bed, too tired to kick off my sneakers.
When we run out of money, I will dumpster dive there again. If I got away once, why not a second time?
If the elves truly have magic, it isn’t enough to ensnare me.
3
Stella
A loud hammering on the door wakes me. I roll onto my back, staring up at the tarp ceiling. My head feels like it’s stuffed with straw.
What day is it?
The hammering continues. “Stella!” someone shouts. “Stella, open the door.”
I grunt, pushing myself up to a sitting position. It takes a moment for the cobwebs of sleep to be replaced with awareness. I stand and, stifling a yawn, walk into the front room, unlocking the door.
My friend, Lyra, is standing outside, her fist still lifted, ready to knock again. Her black curls hang in a tangled mess about her shoulders, her dark face scrunched up in annoyance. “Finally.” She pushes past me, holding a large paper bag of groceries. “Hi’ya, Quinn!” She beams at my brother.
Quinn grins up at her from his spot on the sofa. “Hi, Lyra. Do you have snacks?”
“The very best.” Lyra plops herself next to my brother, ruffling his hair. Quinn chuckles but doesn’t stop his playing, hands clutching his game controller with a white-knuckled grip.
“How are things going?” I nudge Lyra over and sit, the sofa fitting the three of us snugly.
“Eh. Okay.” Lyra shrugs and rummages through the bag. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay with you for a bit. I kinda need to get out of dodge for a while. Just personal stuff.”
“Take all the time you need,” I reply.
Lyra is a Drifter. She's not quite homeless but doesn’t have a home, either. She wanders from place to place, working odd jobs to pay for food and shelter. If she’s here, it’s because business is poor, or she’s run into some drama. Lyra is good at stirring up trouble. However, she helps me w
hen she can, and I support her when I’m able. It’s a good arrangement.
“Do you mind watching Quinn for me? I need to go out tonight.”
“Sure.” Lyra opens a package of chips and, after taking a handful, passes the bag to me. I take a few and hand the bag to Quinn, who pauses his game to eat.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m just diving. You know the drill.” I gesture to my bedroom. “Quinn’s medicine is in there. Same as usual.” I decide not to tell her about the two hundred dollars I have stowed in the pages of my books. I don’t think she’ll steal it, and I’d rather not risk it. It’s been several days since I last went diving. Almost half of the money I got from Jonah has gone to rent and medicine, and I stocked up on groceries, just in case.
“I hear diving is becoming a riskier business,” Lyra says.
I roll my eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll spend a few days in jail at worst.”
Lyra shakes her head, black curls swaying. “I’ve heard rumors that people are disappearing, like in old sci-fi stories. They’re being abducted. By the elves.” She giggles, but the sound is strained, and she glances about the room with a nervous air.
I reach over, changing my mind about the chips, and help myself to a handful. “That’s ridiculous. The elves are here to stay.”
“What makes you think that?”
“They’ve built a fortress here, haven’t they?” I respond. “Not to mention wherever else they’ve set up camp. Plus, all the rules.” I glower at the flickering TV screen. Quinn is playing a game where an elf runs through a mist-shrouded forest, slaying monsters. How fitting. “And they're taking care of the dream vagrants,” I say. I have no idea what they are doing with the hopelessly addicted, and I don’t want to know. Had they found Wilder? Or is he already dead? That happens to all of the dream vagrants. Their bodies eventually succumb to the star-blood drug. “You have to admit, it’s been safer here with the elves about, and anyway, they don't act like they plan to leave. Not anytime soon. Might as well get used to it.”
Lyra pulls a small carton of water out of the paper bag. We used to bottle our water in plastic, but the elves cracked down on that. Another one of their rules. “Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Either way, be careful, okay?”
“I always am.”
Quinn pauses his game and lunges at me, wrapping his thin arms around me. “Love you, Stella.”
I return the hug. “Love you, too.”
I slip out after that. It’s still light out, but it’s been a while since I’ve dived in the bins, and I plan to hit several today.
I start near the docks first, despite it being the early afternoon. I've hardly ever seen any elves on the docks. They have their boats, but not many, preferring the use of their sky ships. I’m not sure where they keep their sea ships; none are in view.
After that, I slowly meander my way up to Fourth Avenue, only hitting the bins where the crowds are thin and few dream vagrants congregate.
By the time darkness falls, I’m hungry, and I stop at a food truck, purchasing an overpriced pastry. I bite into it and close my eyes as I savor the flaky sweetness. I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten out, and I nibble at it slowly, trying to make it last.
By ten, I’m ready to go home. It’s raining, and I’m wet and cold. Instead, I slink over to the elven fortress, eyeing the iron fence. I’ve climbed it before, but not when it was raining. I wait quietly in a side alley until the elven guard stalks by and disappears. This is my chance. I sprint over to the fence, leaping just as I reach it, grabbing the slick iron railings. My feet scrabble to find holds, and I hoist myself up. My grip slips, and I almost fall to the pavement on the other side. My heart is pounding from apprehension and exertion, but I force myself to run, clambering into the dumpster like it's a sanctuary.
I give myself a few minutes to rest after that and try to calm my labored breathing.
When I’m certain no one saw me, I sift through the trash. There are more wires, copper tubes, and when I dig further in the garbage, some strange colored pebbles that gleam dully in the streetlight. I grin, unable to hide my elation, and stuff them into my pack. Our lives will change for the better because of this dumpster and its wonderful junk. I’m sure of it.
My breath catches in my throat when I hear voices. I burrow into the trash heap, blood pounding in my ears. I lay still, so still, I might appear dead if someone were to see me under the trash.
I can hear footsteps as the voices draw closer. Both sound male, and unmistakably elven. One says something in Elvish. At least, I think it’s Elvish. I can’t understand him. Something taps the bin, and I shiver, biting my lip.
“Ra-coon,” the other one says, his tone bored. The footsteps and voices recede, replaced with silence. I lay tangled in the trash, trying to slow my breathing. That was close. Way too close.
I wait for a count of five hundred, then rise, slipping on my backpack. I climb out of the dumpster as silently as possible, landing with a light thump.
I step toward the fence, freezing in place when I see the silhouette of a figure standing in the rain several yards away. From the stiff way he is standing, I know he can see me.
I set off at a dead run.
“Stop!” a commanding voice rings out.
I ignore it, fear giving me speed as I reach the fence and scramble up it. I land on the other side, crying out when I hit the slick pavement wrong, hurting my ankle. I don’t let it stop me though, and I dismiss the pain, sprinting down the same alley I took the last time.
There are no dream vagrants to slow anyone down, and I whimper when I realize the elven guard is hot on my trail. I’ve heard all sorts of rumors about the elves, and most of them aren’t good. How they can break a man in half with their bare hands, their ability to breathe in outer space, and their power to make a human obey them without question, even if they tell you to kill yourself. The thought gives me a burst of speed and propels me forward. I hear the elf’s footsteps as he sprints, quiet and sure. Fast. He’s gaining.
I keep running, terror coursing through my veins. My lungs feel like they are going to explode, but I can’t stop. I can’t. I have to get back to Quinn.
Fear disorients me, and when I turn a corner into another alley, a chain-link fence blocks the far exit. I don’t hesitate. I stagger over to it and clamber up.
When I drop to the other side, my legs give out. I kneel on the pavement, my breath coming in sobbing gasps. Have I lost him?
No. The elf materializes out of the darkness, scaling the fence with lightning speed.
I scream in terror, surging to my feet, but it’s too late. The elf drops with cat-like agility, and snakes his right arm out, long pale fingers wrapping around my wrist. I thrash about, trying to free myself. “Help!” I scream. “Help! Someone!”
The elf yanks me to him, silencing my pleas by clamping his other hand over my mouth. I scream into his palm and sink my teeth into his index finger.
“Fyit.” The elf hisses, and spinning me around, gives me a resounding slap across my face. I stagger under the blow, my skull ringing from the impact.
I still try to resist, but it’s like trying to stop a landslide with my bare hands. The elf slings me over his shoulder. I feel his shoulder muscle tense, and then we’re sailing up and over the chain-link fence, landing on the other side with a solid thump. He sets off at a run, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him, my body shaking uncontrollably. I know he’s taking me back to the elven base.
“Put me down!” I shriek. I pound his back with my fists. It doesn’t seem to have any effect.
“My friend thought you were an animal,” the elf says in English, his tone almost conversational. He doesn’t sound winded at all, despite the quick pace he's set. We are already approaching the iron gate. “He wasn’t far wrong. Still, we’ll have to make sure we keep a better watch. The wards told us someone had infiltrated our grounds, but we didn’t know who.”
“Let me go.” I switch tactics and tr
y to sound tough, but my voice quivers.
“You’re not going anywhere,” the elf says. He says it as a simple fact, chilling me to my core. With a final burst of energy, I try to push myself forward, but he has too firm a grip on my legs. I shiver as a wind coils about us, freezing and biting in its intensity, but it is gone in an instant.
The elf puts me down, looking at me with a furrowed brow. “What did you do?” he asked.
I stare at him. “Uh, I trash dived?”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t play stupid,” he said, his voice clipped. “You summoned that wind. You have magic.”
I don’t respond. My brain is trying to make sense of what he just said. Huh. I think quickly. “You better let me go, or I’ll unleash the full extent of my power.”
A smile twitches on the elf’s lips, and before I can even think, the gates of the fortress are opening. He throws me over his shoulder again, and we enter the elven grounds.
What will happen to me? More importantly, what will happen to Quinn?
4
Stella
An elf is carrying me like I weigh nothing at all. A space elf. I want to gibber in terror, but I grit my teeth, determined not to let him know how scared I really am.
“Geldyn,” a voice calls out. Another elf.
The elf holding me halts.
The voice speaks in Elvish, and I can detect the faintest hint of humor.
“Sol,” my captor says. “The order is to speak human language in their presence.”
“Fine,” the other elf says. Sol. “What did you find?”
