Daughter of Detroit

by Amy Stilgenbauer

  She walked past a picnicking family and turned down a wooded path, when she stopped and stood frozen. There, at the edge of the woods, stood Opaline. Well, Opaline as she had looked in her early twenties, if her hair had been bright red hair instead of hints of the color flecked into blonde. The resemblance was incredible. It took Clarissa a few minutes to register that she was likely looking at Opaline’s granddaughter.

  Some instinct wanted Clarissa to call out to the young woman, but as she followed her grim expression to the happy family at the picnic tables, Clarissa's gut gave a strange lurch. The young woman turned and looked at her, her face calm and unreadable. Clarissa took a step back.

  “Wait!” The girl called out. Her voice rang like a church bell and Clarissa found herself rooted to the spot, unable to move even if she wanted to. “I know you,” the girl continued, rushing toward her. The family still seemed oblivious.

  “I - I don’t think you do,” Clarissa replied, looking around for a quick means of escape.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not here to collect your soul or anything-” She trailed off and glanced back at the family. The lurch in Clarissa’s gut returned.

  “Collect my soul?” She asked. She certainly had an idea what that might have meant, but there was no way she wanted to believe it of Opaline’s granddaughter. Not without confirmation.

  Opaline’s miniature clone gave a proud nod and Clarissa suppressed a shudder. The girl didn’t seem to notice. She held out a hand and smiled, a disarming but profound smile that looked nothing like Opaline’s ever did. “My name’s Jaclyn, but they’re calling me the Queen of the Shades these days.”

  Clarissa shook her hand, but stared hard into Jaclyn’s brown eyes. They were cold and had a look about them like freshly turned earth. The resemblances to Opaline were fading quickly under scrutiny. “My name is Clarissa...”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” Clarissa watched the girl’s eyes. Despite her words, she didn’t see any recognition in them and she sincerely doubted that Opaline really have talked to her granddaughter about her long lost school friend.

  “Of course I do,” Jaclyn insisted. She looked around as if making sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “You’re the Nain Rouge. Kate won’t shut up about you.”

  Clarissa frowned. That name meant nothing to her. A sinking feeling told her that it belonged to the giant blank space in her memory. “Right...Kate...”

  “So what are you up to? Can I help in anyway?”

  Jaclyn sounded so eager. It took Clarissa all the more off guard. More than anything, she wanted to shout “I knew your grandmother!” and run away, but did nothing of the sort. Instead, she took a deep calming breath, looked Jaclyn right in the eye and said, “I’m fairly certain that I have been tasked with a kidnapping by a Dean Martin look-alike with wolf’s eyes and fangs.

  Jaclyn’s smile vanished, replaced by the same grim expression she had worn while watching the family at their picnic. “Calu?” She asked.

  Clarissa nodded. “I believe he said that was his name.”

  “He wants you to...kidnap someone?”

  “Well, that or kill her. I never fully processed what he was asking me to do, but there was some nonsense about revenge and...” She trailed off, glancing over at the family who had begun packing up their picnic. “Don’t you have a soul to collect?”

  Jaclyn followed her gaze, but then shook her head. “Them? No. I wasn’t out here for that.” Her frown deepened as she continued to watch the group and Clarissa felt for her. There was something in that look of longing, that gaze of an outsider, that she profoundly identified with. It reminded her too much of her own life. Before she could mention it; however, Jaclyn had continued, her voice still eager but more solemn, imbrued with doubt. “Calu may be a spirit of death, but...he’s not a bad guy. Not really. I mean, he’d never hurt a kid. Not like that I mean.”

  Clarissa thought back to the man who had tried to force his way into her apartment and shuddered. “Do you know him as well as you think you do?”

  Jaclyn didn’t answer. She merely touched the bronze pendant that decorated her neck and vanished.

  4.

  Laindier’s Tea Shoppe. Wooster, Ohio.

  Since her first encounter with Grizelda, Jaclyn had been trying to work out whether or not she could trust her. Yes, she had saved her from some unknown punishment at the hands of an angry Harvest witch known only as Aine, but she also featured prominently with a less than heroic role in her mother’s stories. Jaclyn had yet to ask her what she had been up to when she threatened a young Cerise Mooreland at a county fair, but she knew well enough that it had been her. The moment Grizelda explained that she could travel through time. The second she called herself “The Witch of Winter.” Jaclyn knew. She also knew that so much more was at play than what she saw on the surface. How many times since that fateful Halloween had she had to confront that unfortunate truth, after all?

  She had been meeting with the woman on an incredibly sporadic basis since December and all she had been able to discern about her was that the “Witch of Winter” epitaph was accurate. Even on relatively mild days, Grizelda’s arrival at the tea shoppe brought a temperature drop, a flurry of snow, or at its worst, an ice storm, along with it. Jaclyn had teased her about stopping once, but Grizelda’s enigmatic smile at the request terrified even her, so she didn’t mention the weather again.

  That April morning had been pleasant enough. Jaclyn had still worn her cloak out on Belle Isle, but when she got back to Wooster, she found that away from the lake effect breezes, all that she needed was an everyday ordinary t-shirt. Unfortunately, as the time of Grizelda’s arrival grew closer, a chill began to fill the air. Annoyed, but trying not to let it show, Jaclyn put on a jacket and prepared some tea.

  As if on cue, Grizelda stepped out from behind the heavy curtains Jaclyn had hung over the back of the store. “Miss Laindier, I have news!” She called out, an odd sparkle in her dark eyes.

  Jaclyn frowned. That sparkle had not boded well the previous time she had appeared with it. That time she brought with her the news that Jaclyn’s mother had fallen into a destroyed parallel universe. “And what might that be?” She asked, turning away to pour tea and hide her actual thoughts.

  Grizelda took a seat, crossed her legs and smirked up at Jaclyn. “You assume the news must be bad?”

  “That’s all you’ve ever brought.”

  “That’s not fair.” She stuck out her lip in a fake, overly dramatic pout. “Maybe I won’t tell you after all.”

  Jaclyn set the tea tray down on the table in front of Grizelda and shrugged. She had enough practice with this sort of thing to know by now; when someone wants to share news, if you wait long enough, they’ll share it. She sipped her tea while keeping her eyes locked expectantly on Grizelda.

  It didn’t take long at all. After barely a minute of silence, Grizelda spilled. “Your mother is alive.”

  Despite wanting to jump up in triumph, Jaclyn forced herself to remain in her chair and calmly sip her tea. “She is? How do you know?”

  “I’ve had word...from the keeper of the gate.”

  “You have not.” Jaclyn took a deep breath and sipped her tea once more. She wanted to believe her mother was all right, but she needed a better answer than that. Grizelda clearly wasn’t telling her everything.

  Grizelda narrowed her eyes for moment, then rolled them. “What does it matter how I know? I know.”

  The pair sat in stony silence for a long while. Jaclyn sipping her tea and Grizelda watching her with an expectant expression.

  Finally, Grizelda spoke. “You know, Miss Laindier, there is more to this than you realize and being obstinate with me-”

  “I was not aware that I was the one being obstinate, Miss,” she paused, unsure of Grizelda’s last name or if she even had one. “Miss Grizelda.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that is not my name.”

  “Until I believe you. Wh
ich, I’m sure is countless.”

  “Young lady, do I need to remind you that I am older than you by several thousand years?”

  Jaclyn set down her now empty tea cup and smiled a wide, but terribly chilling smile at the old woman across the table. “Not at all.”

  The temperature of the room dropped again. The rest of the tea turned to ice in the pot..

  “You think you’re special, Miss Laindier, because you’re Death. You think you’re terrifying and all who meet you despair. Well, for the most part, that is true, especially in this world. But the people we are dealing with do not fear you. They don’t need to. They fear something else. They fear the destruction that your mother has for some reason unknown to all of us set into motion. I have seen it happen before when I was but a young woman and I will not stand to see it happen again. There are a limited number of worlds for us to escape to, Miss Laindier. You should take all of this more seriously.”

  Cowed, Jaclyn frowned across the table, but did not speak.

  “Now, we know that the Chaos Gate has been opened. We know that your mother has arrived in Atlantis. Now, we must determine what will happen next so we know how to act.”

  More than anything, Jaclyn wanted to snidely reply with a “I thought you already knew all about the terrible things to come,” but instead, she nodded politely, a forced smile plastered to her face.

  “The first time this happened...” Grizelda began

  Then an idea occurred to Jaclyn. “Do you think Calu has anything to do with it?”

  “Calu?” Grizelda looked profoundly confused. “What would the wolf have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know. I just...he’s not exactly harmless, is he?”

  “The wolf has been a thorn in my side for some time, Miss Laindier, but that’s a personal grudge. I sincerely doubt-”

  “So...he wouldn’t try to kidnap a little girl?”

  At this, Grizelda herself froze. “What did he tell you?”

  Part of Jaclyn wanted to make the most of Grizelda’s discomfort. For once, she felt like she had the upperhand with the witch. Still, if she wanted to remain allies, she knew from the look on the older woman’s face that she had to be honest. “He didn’t tell me anything. The Nain Rouge told me.”

  Grizelda’s eyes widened further. She was gone before Jaclyn could blink.

  5.

  Detroit, Michigan

  The small herd of fallow deer snuck back into their enclosure through a hole in the fence. Clarissa did not take her eyes off of them. She just knew that somewhere in that cluster hid the specific deer she sought and she felt ridiculous.

  Her grandmother had told her the story of the white doe when she had been a little girl to distract her on the nights she refused to sleep. That it was a goddess that took the form of a deer, she never questioned. Her grandmother’s word was as good as gold. She said a magic deer lived on Belle Isle and Clarissa believed her. But now, after events all the more strange and disturbing had occurred, she found the story impossible.

  “What am I doing here?” She whispered to herself, turning from the enclosure. There was still plenty of day left to salvage. If she hurried home, maybe she would be able to get Opaline on the phone and straighten out the whole business.

  “I was about to ask you the same question,” said a woman’s voice behind her.

  Clarissa turned once more to see a cream colored fallow deer standing at the entrance to the enclosure. Its eyes, an intense pink color, followed her movements with no lack of emotion. In them, Clarissa could see everything from anger and protectiveness to profound despair.

  “You’ve been half a step behind me all day and I -- I thought it would be rude not to at least ask if you wanted something.” The words didn’t come from the deer’s mouth, but Clarissa heard them in her own head clear as day.

  Her own words fled and Clarissa felt a rush of panic as her brain grasped around, trying to turn a few of them into an intelligible sentence. “I-I’m not sure if I do,” she forced out eventually.

  The deer nodded, watching her face. “You’re trying very hard because you love this place, yes?”

  “Yes,” Clarissa answered. That, at least, she could be sure of.

  “Then you must be prepared. Terrible danger is coming.” The doe flicked her tail to the right as though gesturing. Clarissa turned to look without question.

  For a split second, just over the skyline of the city, she saw a column of smoke rising. “What’s that?” She exclaimed in panic, but then, just as quickly as it appeared, the smoke was gone.

  “You see?” The doe said. Clarissa could almost hear the smile in her voice. She almost seemed satisfied. Clarissa hoped that the satisfaction came from something other than the fire.Perhaps just that she was pleased Clarissa was actually paying attention. “You must be prepared.”

  For an instant, Clarissa wanted to tell the deer everything. She felt that if she could just open her mouth, the story of her life would fall out like a waterfall: every moment from her grandmother’s bedtime stories to Calu’s arrival at her door. But when she did move to speak, she found her mouth dry and barren instead. She was unable to make a sound as she stared into the deer’s eyes.

  The doe seemed able to sense this. She nodded and Clarissa could feel the motherly gentleness radiating off her. It was a strange feeling; one she hadn’t felt in years. “I must thank you for your fervent help these past few months,” the doe began. “I don’t know if we could have maintained our watch without you.”

  Clarissa watched her with a confused expression. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she managed to force out.

  “It has been a struggle, but little Fiammetta has benefitted greatly from your watchful eye.”

  Her stomach lurched yet again and Clarissa felt nausea fill her. The doe herself had mentioned Fiammetta. Fiammetta was real. This meant, worst of all, that Calu’s insane request was real. She knew she had to warn the doe, to do something to get the little girl to safety, but before she could mention anything about any of it, the deer had bounded back to the enclosure and hidden itself amongst the others. Clarissa grimaced, confused and deeply disappointed. A feeling of failure that she hadn’t felt since Moira almost destroyed the fern flower radiated out from her heart. She wanted to cry. Then in the distance, she heard the sound of approaching sirens.

  The smell of smoke and fear came rushing to her all at once and took over her mind. It occurred to her that she might not have been imagining the smoke after all, but the fire was not in the city. No, the smell was too close. The fire was nearby. The deer looked frantic and restless, pawing at the ground with their hoofs and trying to get to the furthest possible part of their enclosure. Part of her wanted to help them, but she had no idea how to begin. Instead, she watched, helpless, a familiar enraged panic rising from her midsection and within an instant overtaking her.

  *

  Something wet licked Clarissa’s ear. Confused, she opened her eyes and looked directly into the eyes of a chestnut colored fallow deer with antlers that were almost larger than its body. As the world around her focused, she saw that it was quite grey and cold. For a moment, she wondered if she had slipped through time yet again and awoken in winter, but as she took in the singed trees she knew that she was merely seeing the results of whatever fire had burst across the area.

  She got to her feet, reaching out to pat the fallow deer on the head. He nuzzled into her touch and she smiled. “You all stayed safe?” She asked.

  The deer stepped back and nodded, then slowly lowered to the ground.

  Clarissa followed its progress with confusion and concern until her eyes rested on the same plant as the deer. At her feet, leaves and petals, wilted from the dry heat of the fire, was the fern flower. Clarissa gasped, taking in her breath sharply and painfully. “No,” she whispered, gently touching one of the leaves with a finger. It glowed a moment then sagged further. “No, no...”

  More deer were beginning to arrive, drift
ing in from behind trees. They walked up to the fern flower, then lowered themselves, forming a protective ring around the plant. Clarissa looked into their eyes, grateful for their obvious appreciation for her charge, but deeply confused as well.

  Then she heard the woman’s voice. “Thank you for protecting Fiammetta once again. We were afraid that we had lost her.”

  One of the cream colored deer, padded forward, through the ring of protection to Clarissa at the center. Her eyes were all sadness now, like a mother about to send a child away to college.

  “I don’t understand,” Clarissa said, watching as the deer nuzzled the flower once.

  “Fia...poor little girl must have been so scared.”

  The fern flower seemed to shudder and Clarissa reached for it instinctively. She had to protect it. Goddess, magic deer, whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be allowed to eat the most precious flower entrusted to her care. But instead of becoming the fallow deer’s lunch, the fern flower began to change shape, shifting and growing right before Clarissa’s eyes until instead of a flower, a little girl dressed head to toe in green, excepting her bright red necklace, sat curled up in its place. Clarissa stared in amazement. She looked so much like her that she might as well have been her daughter, and with as much effort as Clarissa had put into protecting the flower since its discovery last June...

  “This is Fiammetta?” She asked, unable to comprehend. The little girl looked appropriately terrified. She curled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them, trying her best to hide

  The doe nodded. “I don’t know that it’s safe for her to remain here in the forest. Not with who is seeking her.”

  Confusion turned abruptly to guilt. “I’m the one he asked to find her.”

  Now, the doe’s expression harden. “That is why you were tracking me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I didn’t know...”

  “Now you do. Will you run to him with our secret?” She did not give Clarissa time to answer. Instead she began to pace circles around the area, pawing at the ground with her hooves. The other deer, still kneeling, began to look restless, as if they were about to start doing the same. “Oh, how I have over estimated you. I thought you loved us. That you would protect us. Perhaps you are what they say.”