Heiresses of Russ 2016: The Year's Best Lesbian Speculative Fiction

by A. M. Dellamonica

  (He’d spoken in his Normal Voice when you called him at work, hardly able to speak, because Mom wasn’t breathing. “What did you do to your mother, girl?”)

  You had this aunt, some relative you’d only met once, who took you in. You moved to some backwards little town in the middle of nowhere. At least there were woods around, so much forested land you weren’t allowed to wander too close in case you stepped off the trail and got lost.

  You didn’t care about the goddamn trees at first. Your mom was dead. You were stuck here. Friends were hard to come by for the new girl from the cities, the one who liked other girls and loved to dance by herself to music no one else had on their iPods.

  “Why didn’t you protect her too?” you asked. Monster sat on the bed next to you, no longer as big as a house, fur darker, magenta and sleek, not the poof-ball you remembered as a kid. “You could have saved her! She’s all the family I had!”

  Monster looked down. “She didn’t believe in us.”

  “You’re supposed to be my friend, Monster. You should have saved her!”

  Monster sat silently as you pummeled your fists against the thick fur until your knuckles hurt and your face burned from tears. Blaming your monster was better than blaming yourself. You hadn’t seen Mom shoot up in months. You’d thought she was getting better, that the support group meetings were working, that the new job with the nice guy she’d gone out for drinks with were helping, that your step-dad being gone more and more was returning the world to normal.

  (Nice lies, weren’t they.)

  “I’m sorry, Red,” Monster said, wiping sticky hair from your face with one claw. “There was nothing I could do.”

  That’s the thing about monsters. They’re real–of course they’re real. But you have to accept that before they can come out of the shadows.

  “Well, if you can’t do anything, then I don’t need you.” You were so angry you felt like you were about to explode. You hoped you would. POOF and done. Then you could stop hurting inside. “Go away, Monster.”

  Monster flinched. “Red…”

  “I said go away!” You shoved Monster as hard as you could, and Monster flew off the bed and slammed into the wall. Cracks rippled along the sheetrock. You didn’t care if your aunt saw the damage. “I don’t want to see you again.”

  Monster’s head bowed and Monster’s whole body shrunk until your monster disappeared altogether.

  You flung yourself on the bed and screamed into the pillows.

  YOU PULL YOURSELF from the river, shivering, hair plastered to your face. You’re not sure how far the current carried you. You’re good at track because it gives you an excuse to run, to move, to feel wind comb your hair–your legs are strong, and so are your lungs.

  You’re still in the woods. Maybe this forest goes on forever. Except–there’s the thread of red wool, curling up from tangled deadwood and winding through the trees.

  Ashley.

  You brush mud from your hands and look up.

  An immaculately dressed wolf sits on a sycamore branch, swinging his legs. His suit is rich burgundy, pinstriped with black. His fur is glossy gray, neatly combed, and he smiles as he hops down and offers you a courtly bow.

  “Good evening,” says the wolf. “What brings you here?”

  You’ve never been scared of monsters. And since this isn’t a fairytale, you have nothing to fear from a big bad wolf in the woods.

  “My girlfriend was kidnapped,” you say. “I’m going to get her back.”

  The wolf rubs a claw along the lapel of his suit. Some undefined light source gleams off the polished nails. “Are you, now?”

  You fold your arms. “And no asshole in a cheap suit is going to stop me, either.”

  “Do you like it?” The wolf smiles wider. “It was tailor-made. I made him sew it for me before I ate him.”

  You’re not going to take this bullshit. You nurse the anger like a personal white dwarf star; maybe one day it will cool with nothing to fuel it, but now? Now it’s dense and bright and hot. “Get out of my way.”

  The wolf glides around you and you turn to follow his gaze. “You must pay my toll to pass,” says the wolf.

  You bet he doesn’t take plastic, and your wallet’s pretty empty as it is. What if he demands riddles or magic or games you can’t win? You throw at him the only thing you hope might work.

  “I’ll pay you with a secret,” you say.

  The wolf’s eyes glint like sequins. “And what kind of secret is worth safe passage into our land?”

  You clench your hands to stop them trembling. This is a bad idea. But what else do you have? You can’t bring yourself to dance again, even with another monster. “It’s a secret I’ve never told anyone.”

  The wolf’s ears prick towards you. “No one?”

  “Ever.” You swallow hard. “Aren’t monsters supposed to like secrets?”

  “The one I love is made from secrets and shadow,” the wolf says. “But what will you do if I do not like this secret?”

  “Suck it up and deal,” you snap before you think better of it. You brace yourself, ready to run or fight back if the wolf attacks you.

  But the wolf only throws back his head and howls with laughter. “I think I will like whatever you share with me,” the wolf says, smoothing his lapel again. “Very well. A secret for your safe passage.”

  He leans close until you smell the river and hot sand and summer air after a rainstorm in his fur.

  Words stick like toothpicks in your throat. You don’t want this secret and you don’t want anyone to ever know, but you already made a deal.

  You take a deep breath, then whisper in the wolf’s ear.

  ONCE UPON A time, when you just started sixth grade, the cool girls cornered you and your best friend Terra by the lockers. Your heartbeat jumped, because you had a crush on Vanessa, the clique leader, and now she was speaking to you.

  “Hey, Red. Want to hang out this weekend? I’m having a party Friday.”

  She knew you existed. You blushed. “Yeah! I mean, I’d like—”

  “Assuming,” Vanessa went on, “you’re not going to go on about ‘monsters’ again like a two-year-old. Terra says that’s all you ever talk about.”

  You glanced at Terra. You’d told her about Monster, about dancing, and she hung on every word; you’d told her she could find a monster of her own, too, so she wouldn’t be scared all the time.

  Vanessa tossed her hair. “Well? Is it true?”

  You shrugged, looking at the floor. If you told the truth, Vanessa would mock you forever. You didn’t want school to be hell for another year in a row. “There’s no such thing as monsters.”

  Vanessa leaned close. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Monsters aren’t real,” you said again, not expecting it to be that hard. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit for little kids.”

  Vanessa smirked. “Obviously.”

  Terra’s mouth hung open, shock in her eyes, but you ignored her and followed Vanessa and the other girls instead.

  A week later, Terra’s family moved out of state unexpectedly, and you never saw her again. You never knew if she found her monster.

  (Maybe she believed you that monsters aren’t real.)

  THE WOLF SIGHS and half-shuts his eyes. “You carry so much pain in your heart.”

  You shake your head, face burning, and remember where you are. You wish you could forget the shame of that secret as easily. “Let me pass.”

  “I can do more than that,” the wolf says. “I know where your lady love has been taken.”

  You stare hard at the wolf, trying to tell if he’s lying. His bright eyes and brighter teeth give nothing away. “Where’s that?”

  “Ah,” he says with a smile. “Answers must be paid for.”

  “What do you want in return for telling me?”

  “Your help, lady knight.”

  You realize in sudden panic that you’ve lost sight of the telltale thread. There’s nothing caught any
longer among the branches.

  If Monster were here now, Monster would know where to go, like the day Monster carried you out of the woods. (You can’t let yourself miss your monster. It’s always better to stay angry.)

  “Enough,” you tell the wolf. “If you help me get my girlfriend back and let us get out of here, I’ll help you in return. Okay?”

  The wolf bows. “Very well.”

  “Where’s Ashley?”

  “The Hall,” the wolf says. “Our home.”

  “Who took her there?”

  “Kin,” says the wolf. “At the bidding of the new king.”

  The wolf grabs your elbow and tugs you sideways, off the path. You yank your arm free, about to curse him out, when he points at where you were standing.

  “Look.”

  There’s a hole in the air where you were. It’s the size of a baseball and there’s nothing on the other side. Not darkness, really, but an absence of anything that sends shooting pain up your neck and behind your eyes.

  You retreat, bumping into the wolf. “I saw…” The recollection is still fuzzy. You frown and concentrate. “There was one by the woods in my world.”

  The wolf snaps off a branch as thick as his arm, then pokes it through the hole. The branch disappears and the hole grows a half inch wider. It sits there, ragged edges flapping as if in a soft breeze. Up above you see more holes poking through the endless twilight-lit treetops.

  You hug yourself. “What are they?”

  The wolf sighs. “Emptiness. Entropy. An end. That is what the king is doing–he is destroying our world. And yours.”

  They aren’t separate. You asked Monster about this, once. They co-exist beside each other, overlapping and easily crossed if you believe you can. Yours is not a nice world. But it’s still yours, and Ashley’s, and your aunt’s. The world of monsters is just as important. Without one, the other can’t exist.

  You hunch your shoulders. Your step-dad left holes in your life you don’t know how to sew shut. Your mom’s death. The loss of your dance. You tried to dance again, after you and Ashley were dating for a few weeks, but as soon as you struck a pose and Ashley turned on a CD, your muscles locked and you started shaking. Monster isn’t here. You curled up on Ashley’s bed and hid your head under the pillows, refusing to move even though she promised she wouldn’t ask you to dance with her again. You didn’t have words to tell her it wasn’t her fault.

  You can’t freeze up again. You won’t lose her the way you lost Terra or Monster.

  “Show me where the Hall is,” you tell the wolf.

  He offers his arm and you loop your elbow through his.

  THE FOREST GROWS darker as you walk alongside the big, not-so-bad wolf. He gracefully dodges the holes that appear faster among the treetops and in the ground, eating away the world.

  “Who’s this king?” you ask. You try not to clutch the wolf’s arm harder than necessary. You’ve already asked how far the Hall is. The wolf said it was as far as it needed to be, and no more.

  “A man self-titled so,” says the wolf. “He beguiled his way into the Hall; he spoke with such charm and smooth words, we let him join us. Many lost travelers may find their way in. Perhaps not all leave again.” His teeth gleam. “But he brought a weapon with him. It is a small knife made of all the words that have ever been used to harm another. It is power unlike any we can match.” The wolf points at a hole, but you don’t look at it too long. “With each cut, the false king destroys pieces of our world and our kin.”

  “You can’t kick him out?” You want to run, to drag the wolf along behind you. Ashley can’t wait, not if there is a wicked king holding her prisoner.

  The wolf’s ears droop. “The ones who tried are no more. The Queen is…gone. He will not stop, lady knight.”

  And the wolf thinks you can help? Shit. The angry part of you wants to blow it off, take Ashley and go home, let the monsters deal with it. Isn’t that what they’re for? Monster lived under your bed and protected you. But the guilty part of you knows it wasn’t Monster’s fault you were hurt when your mom died. Monster would do anything for you, but there are some things even monsters can’t fix.

  And you sent Monster away.

  Right in front of you, huge arched doors shimmer into sight.

  “Welcome to our home,” says the wolf.

  The Hall is made of whispers and mirrors and filled with monsters. There are more than you can ever count. They dance to a haunting, unknown melody that grows slower and slower, perpetual motion winding down. Dusk hangs from the ceiling; dawn winds through the foundations. Only stars light this place.

  “One of us ate the sun,” the wolf says, “and another ate the moon. But it’s impolite to remember who devoured which, now isn’t it?” And when he smiles, you can almost see sunlight glimmering at the back of his throat.

  For a moment, you can’t breathe. This place is what you always believed (secretly) heaven was like.

  The monsters are beautiful and terrible. Not one is alike. Some have glossy fur and coarse manes, some are covered in shimmering feathers and scales. Some have horns or claws or antlers or teeth. The monsters have bright eyes and some have no eyes. There are monsters made from shadow and monsters made from light. Smooth skin and armored pelts. Some monsters have skeletons, or exoskeletons, and some only pretend.

  The dance floor stretches out in all directions to the horizon lines. You rub your eyes hard. This place feels like home.

  “Here,” says the wolf, and offers you a dance card. “It never fills up, so you may dance until the world ends.”

  You tuck the card in your pocket. You need to find Ashley first. “Where’s my girlfriend?”

  The wolf points at a dais that floats above the monsters, luminescent stairs trailing down all six sides.

  Ashley’s sitting there, hunched with her knees pulled against her chest. For a second, she’s all you can see. Ashley: quirky, smart, dedicated Ashely, who was the first to make you feel welcome in the new town, who’s going to be an EMT when she graduates, who takes care of her younger sisters while her single mom works three jobs. Her sweater is only a few threads tied around one wrist now. Her jeans are muddy and her make-up little more than messy streaks. Your heart lurches.

  “Hurry,” the wolf murmurs. “Before the music stops.”

  You weave your way towards the stairs. The dais is translucent at the edges, and a carpet made of a white material mutes the light near the middle. You can’t see anyone else on it. Just Ashley.

  A monster made from metal angles, sharp and contrasted, sweeps by with a glass cougar in its embrace. Their bodies reflect the light in geometric patterns. A brilliantly painted girl made from ivy dances with a metallic velociraptor, and they smile at you as you pass.

  Your breath comes faster. Your body longs to move, join the music and dance, but you can’t. You can’t lose sight of Ashley.

  Closer now. You want to yell to your girlfriend to jump. You’ll catch her. But you don’t know who else is up there. You dash up the steps, hope thumping along with your heart. You stop short at the last step when you see what awaits you.

  The king.

  And Monster.

  You gasp. Monster is thin, fur ragged and patchy. Monster’s eyes are dull and won’t look at you.

  The king sits on a throne. A thick, heavy chain tied around Monster’s neck holds Monster down at the king’s feet. That’s blood matting Monster’s fur. Bones cover the dais: pale and dark and silver and translucent. But bones all the same.

  You glare at the king, the asshole who married your mother then ran off to do this to your monsters.

  He’s got his hands now, but they aren’t his–they look sawed from someone else and stapled on with undulating threads. He holds a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. He points the gun at Ashley.

  Your step-dad smirks. “Not so tough now, are you? I get your boyfriend and your freaks—” he kicks Monster and Monster flinches “—and what can you do?”
/>   “Let Ashley go,” you say, but your voice cracks.

  “Why?” He speaks in his Normal Voice, calm and confident and it makes you want to listen. Like when you were little, before the Bad Days, when he would read you stories and buy you presents and candy and make you laugh with funny faces. “I’m doing what I said I would. It’s your fault, girl. It has always been your fault.”

  You shake your head. That’s bullshit.

  “Don’t believe me?” The king leans forward. “Where were you when your mom killed herself?”

  “It was an accident—”

  “No.”

  That one syllable is like a sledgehammer in your stomach. There is so much hatred in his voice, you can’t catch your breath.

  “No, she did it on purpose. You might have gotten away with anything you wanted because of that beast you had.” He kicks Monster again. “She started getting ideas she could do the same, and we couldn’t have that, could we? I’m in charge. She had to learn that. If you hadn’t hidden behind your monsters, your mother wouldn’t have thought she needed to escape. We could have been a family.”

  You stumble back a step. The realization sinks cold in your stomach. You usurped his power and he couldn’t bear it.

  “I didn’t…” But you can’t go on.

  “Don’t listen to him, Red,” Ashley shouts. “It’s not true!”

  “One more word and you join my wife,” the king says, his finger on the trigger.

  You stand there, shaking, trying not to think how much sense his words make.

  The music—it’s softer now, weaker. And it’s coming from Monster’s throat.

  Ashley locks her jaw and stares unblinking at you. Don’t listen.

  You swallow hard. The melody drifts through your fingers and toes. It’s the lullaby Monster sang to you when you were very small.

  If you believe the false king, he’ll win. He’ll take everything away, like he’s tried to do all your life. You can’t endure losing Ashley. And you can’t see Monster go away again.