In the mirror, her face was all wide eyes and prominent cheekbones. Without her makeup on, she looked like her mother. Suzanne made a face at the mirror, and made herself up with quick, practised strokes. Far too early in the day for such blasphemy. She looked critically at her long braids. They hadn’t looked that tidy to begin with, and sleeping in them had not improved their appearance. She didn’t really have the touch or the patience for braids, but she kept trying. She looked good in braids, and they were practical, too. She liked to feel she was practical about something.
The radio had started playing elevator music, something slow and smooth with too many strings, so she turned the dial till she found something loud with a good beat. Good old-fashioned, no-frills rock-and-roll. The music got into her blood and brought her fully awake at last. She stomped happily about the room, bopping to the beat, picking things up and dropping them in one great pile in the corner. Company’s coming. She remembered about that now. The Cards had been very specific last night, or at least as specific as Tarot Cards ever were, that she’d be having an important visitor early this morning. Someone she’d known for a long time, but hadn’t seen in ages. She pondered happily as to who it might be. The description covered a lot of ground, not to mention ex-boyfriends. There was always someone coming or going, and sometimes both. She never bothered to keep track of them, but she liked to think it was part of her charm that she was always glad to see them whenever they reappeared in her life. As long as they didn’t get possessive. Suzanne might be possessive about things, but never people. It caused too many complications, and Suzanne was a simple girl at heart.
There was a knock at the door, firm but somehow hesitant, as though the caller was unsure of their welcome. Suzanne looked quickly about the room. She hadn’t so much cleared things up as redistributed them, but it would have to do. She checked her appearance in the mirror, went to the door and opened it, and then the smile froze on her face as she saw who it was.
“Hello, Suzanne,” said Polly Cousins. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Polly… Is that you, Polly? You haven’t been here in… I don’t know how many years!”
“I know. But I finally got myselves together, so… Can I come in?”
For the first time Suzanne realized that Polly was white-faced and trembling, more from strain than the morning chill.
“Of course! Come on in!” Suzanne grabbed Polly by the arm, pulled her in, kicked the door shut behind her, and then enveloped Polly in a fierce bear hug. They clung to each other with almost frantic strength, as though each afraid the other might disappear if they didn’t hold on to them hard enough. Tears ran happily down their cheeks as they both tried to say how glad they were to see each other. The words made no sense, but they didn’t have to. Eventually they let go, and held each other at arm’s length to get a better look. Suzanne gestured speechlessly at the two chairs by the table, and they sat down facing each other. Polly looked around the cluttered room, and smiled for the first time.
“I thought I remembered what a tip this place was, but you have to see it to really appreciate it. For my birthday, let me clean up in here. You’ve probably got two or three old boyfriends buried somewhere under all this junk.”
“You leave my place be,” said Suzanne. “It suits me just fine the way it is. It’s comfortable. Polly; I’m so glad to see you, after so long. What is it now; ten years? I never thought to see you outside that damned house again. What happened? Something must have happened! Tell me all about it, fill in all the juicy, sordid details. I want to hear everything.”
“Slow down,” said Polly, smiling so hard it hurt. “Give me a chance to get my breath back. This is the first time I’ve left my house and travelled any distance since I started to fall apart, and I’m still a bit shaky. I got a taxi to bring me here, but for most of the time I couldn’t even bear to look out of the taxi’s windows. The world’s just so big, and I’m not used to that. Even the short walk down the riverbank to get to your shack was enough to set my heart racing. It’s going to take me a while to get used to being free again.
“Do you remember, when we were younger, how we used to go everywhere together? Parties, dances, concerts and protest marches, there we were; two bad girls on the razzle. Bimbos from Hell. Teenage tormenters; no man was safe. We put streaks in our hair over your mother’s kitchen sink, because we thought it made us look more slutty. Being a slut was in, then. Remember going to discos and checking our makeup was just right in the powder room, arguing over which boys we were going to let pick us up that night? It all seems like another world to me now. I can barely believe that person was me. I seem to have gone from teenage queen to old maid without touching the ground in between.”
“Stop that,” said Suzanne firmly. “None of it was your fault. You had your problem, or rather it had you, and you coped with it as best you could. Anyone else would have broken under the weight of it years ago. I always knew you’d break free eventually. Oh God, it’s good to see you again, Polly! Talking on the phone for hours kept us together, but it’s not the same. Now will you please tell me what the hell’s happened, before I go into meltdown mode!”
“Someone came to see me,” said Polly. “Someone I’d known before, when we were both children. He broke me free of my past. His name’s James Hart.”
“You’re kidding! You’ve met James Hart? I saw his return in the Cards about a week ago, and I’d heard he was here, but I haven’t met anyone who’s actually talked to him. What’s he like? Is he handsome? Is he spooky? Is he available!”
Polly laughed for the first time. “Yes, no, and you’ll have to ask him yourself. He’s an amazing man. Doesn’t say much, but there’s a power in him you wouldn’t believe. He has the potential to become someone quite extraordinary, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”
“Of course he has,” said Suzanne calmly. “The Cards have been telling me that something really powerful was headed this way for months. Though I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting it to be James Hart. I don’t think anyone expected him, except possibly Old Father Time. And you found him first… Has he really put you back together again? All of you?”
“Every last one of me. I’m whole again. But he didn’t just stop at that…”
“You mean there’s more? What else did he do; build you a new house?”
“He brought my father back. My father is alive again, thanks to James Hart.”
“Wow… Polly; you and I are in dire need of a stiff drink. Possibly several stiff drinks.” Suzanne got up, still shaking her head, went over to a cupboard and brought out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. She put the glasses on the table, mouthed the word Wow again, and poured out two generous measures of the brandy. “Polly; where exactly is he now?”
“Gone to see my mother’s grave. Or did you mean James? I’m not entirely sure where he is now. He said something about looking up the rest of his family, but we’re going to meet up again later this evening. We’re meeting in a bar he knows. A bar! Do you realize how long it’s been since anyone bought me a drink in a bar? I don’t know if I can do it. I mean; going out is hard enough, without having to face a whole bunch of strangers as well. Maybe I should tell him I can’t go. Put it off until I’m feeling stronger.”
“Oh no you don’t,” said Suzanne immediately. “You’re out of your shell now; you can’t go back. Don’t worry; you’ll be fine. I’ll come along too, staying discreetly in the background, of course. I’d better find someone to escort me, so I don’t stand out.”
“Who is it this week?” said Polly, grinning. “I never can keep up with your tangled love life. You’re the only person I know whose life really is like a soap opera. The last one I remember is Grant. Is he still current?”
“More or less. Nice guy. Guitarist with a group you’ve never heard of. Heavily into brooding in corners and looking enigmatic. A bit young for me, but I like a challenge.”
“You always did,” said Polly dryly. “Is he a
good guitarist?”
“How would I know, dear? You don’t bring a guitar to bed. Officially, we’re separated, because I didn’t recognize his genius. Which essentially meant not being able to keep a straight face when he talked about it. I’ll give him a ring later on today, see if he’s still sulking.”
Polly looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you hear much from Ambrose these days? You don’t talk about him as much as you used to.”
“He pays the rent on this place, and drops me a cheque now and then when he thinks of it, but mostly he’s civilized enough to keep his distance. We should never have married. You warned me about him. Hell, everyone and their brother warned me about Ambrose, but I wouldn’t listen. Living with him was like being married to a quick-change artist. I never knew which aspect of his personality I was going to wake up beside. It was fun at first, like being married to several men all at once, but it got old very quickly. Even I like a little stability in my life. In particular, I prefer my men not to change personality in mid-conversation. We’re much happier, now we hardly ever see each other.
“I really ought to get around to divorcing him, but things are convenient the way they are, and it would be so much bother and effort. Why rock the boat? He keeps me financially stable, and I don’t turn up to embarrass him in front of his upwardly-mobile friends. I’m happy with my painting, and my sittings with the Cards. And frankly, my dear, the thought of having to go out and earn my living fills me with horror. I mean, can you see me rushing to work every morning, like a good little commuter, saying yes sir and no sir to the boss, and clocking in and out? I’d rather die. I am not a practical person, and have no desire to learn how to be. I am a happy little parasite, warm and secure in my snug little nest, and I see no reason to change anything.”
“Money…” said Polly. “That’s something I haven’t had to think about for a long time. It’s not like I have any expensive habits. I inherited the house from Daddy, and a fair amount of money. Only most of that’s gone, now. It trickled away, down the years. I haven’t got around to telling Daddy about that yet. I keep waiting for the right moment to bring it up, but there never seems to be one. Besides, he’s got enough problems already, trying to adjust to all the things that have changed while he was… away. It’s not the life he remembers.”
“Drink up,” said Suzanne. “The world’s too cold and dark a place to face sober.”
“Suzanne; it’s only half past nine in the morning! And there’s enough brandy in this glass to have me paralytic by half past ten.”
“Best thing for you,” said Suzanne briskly. “If more people got smashed of a morning, the world would be a kinder place. They wouldn’t get much done, but then, they wouldn’t be in any shape to care, would they?”
Polly smiled, and shook her head. She’d phoned Suzanne every day for years, talking endlessly about nothing and everything, but she’d forgotten how exhilarating conversation with her could be, in the flesh. You had to work to keep up with Suzanne when she was on a roll. Which was half the fun. Polly sipped her brandy carefully, relaxing almost despite herself as its warmth glowed in her stomach. Suzanne was drinking and talking practically simultaneously, a skill she’d spent years acquiring through diligent practice.
“Are you still having problems with Father Callahan?” Polly said finally, just to get a word in.
“Of course. He doesn’t approve of my Cards, but then he doesn’t approve of anything fun or interesting. I think he’s secretly a Puritan at heart, and believes people like me should be banned on general principles. Never had a drink or a woman in his life, that one. Keeps calling me a Bad Example in his sermons, which is fair enough, and prophesies all kinds of doom for anyone who dares consult me. But since I have a much better record in the prophecy department than he does, the customers still keep coming, bless their timid little hearts. I don’t know what a man like Callahan is doing in Shadows Fall anyway.”
“How about your parents?” said Polly, cutting in quickly before Suzanne could launch into her favourite tirade.
“Relations are still strained, and likely to stay that way for some time. As long as we don’t actually see each other, we get on quite well. Drink up, you’re falling behind.”
Polly took another sip obediently. She wasn’t used to booze. She’d never kept any in the house. It would have been too easy to drink or drug herself into a stupor, and that would have been dangerous. She’d needed all her self-control to keep what was left of her together. But she didn’t have to worry about that any more. The thought sank slowly through her, tinged with exhilaration. There were a lot of things she didn’t have to worry about any more, and that thought was more intoxicating than the brandy could ever be. She took a large swallow, breathed deeply for a moment, and then looked thoughtfully at Suzanne.
“Did you really see James Hart’s return in your Cards?”
“Damn right. The Cards have been full of him for weeks. Maybe now he’s finally got here, they’ll calm down again.”
“Read mine,” said Polly impulsively. “Tell me my future, now I’m free.”
“Sure; why not?” Suzanne drained her glass, got up and went to fetch the Cards. She kept them in the drawer of her dresser, held casually together by a rubber band. They didn’t look like much when she shuffled them and laid them out on the table. They were old and battered, and just a little greasy from constant handling. The designs were creased and faded. Suzanne laid out the Cards one at a time, muttering to herself as she produced the necessary patterns. She laid down the last Card, sat back, and looked at what she’d done. She said nothing for a long time, and then looked at Polly oddly. Her eyes were cold, and her mouth had lost its shape.
“What is it?” said Polly anxiously. “What do you see? Is something bad going to happen to me?”
“I was wrong,” said Suzanne, in a voice like someone else’s. “It wasn’t Hart I saw in the Cards. Something bad is coming. Something bad is coming for the whole town.”
—
In the Great Cavern, far below the town of Shadows Fall, deep in the dark earth where only moles and the things they feed on feel very comfortable, the Underworld of the Subnatural had come together in a Gathering. Every fictional and mythical creature that ever lived in the imagination of the world is a member of the Subnatural. Dragons and unicorns, sasquatches and wendigos, wyverns and cockatrices, all the beasts of the wild that never were but should have been. Super-intelligent dogs from fifties TV series, Saturday Morning cartoons that never made it past the first season, politically aware animals from daily comic strips that the times have left behind; all are welcome in the Underworld, the wide network of caves and dens and warm earth tunnels that lie beneath the town where dreams come to die. The Great Cavern is the place of debate and judgement, where the animals Gather once in a blue moon, to decide what must be done and why.
Actually, it’s much sillier than that.
The Great Cavern was brightly lit by a thousand candles, but the place was covered in dust and cobwebs and wax droppings that no one ever got around to clearing away. The setting was based on what the animals thought a place of judgement should look like, but as animals never were very strong in the imagination department, they’d ended up cribbing a lot of it from illustrations they’d seen in books. The end result was like something out of a Victorian children’s book. One of those dutiful, moral-laden tales featuring dastardly villains with twirling moustaches, and heroes so brave and true and pure they’d make an owl puke.
The Judge sat at the front, peering down at the Court from a wooden desk so tall that some animals got nosebleeds just from looking at it. To his left sat the Jury, on extremely uncomfortable wooden benches, so they wouldn’t nod off if the case got boring. The Jury consisted of a dozen animals whose hearts were brave and true, chosen mainly by the simple expedient of grabbing anyone who couldn’t run away fast enough. To the Judge’s right stood the dock, a grim wooden box with spikes on, just so that the accused would be under no misappr
ehension as to why they were there. It stood alone on a raised platform, so that the onlookers could throw things at it, if they felt so inclined. And mostly they did. Facing all of this were rows of pews for the onlookers, witnesses, those who had business with the Court, or were just feeling nosey and in need of a good laugh. All animals, whether fictional, mythical, or highly unlikely, share a common sense of curiosity, and a gleeful urge to kick someone while they’re down.
This particular Gathering had been called to decide what to do about the shooting of the Sea Goat by an unknown assailant. The Usher, a large hyena standing on two legs and wearing a scholar’s mortar board and gown, announced this in ringing tones, and there then followed a brief burst of conversation as half of the spectators explained what ‘assailant’ meant to the other half. There had already been a great deal of general discussion about what to do. On hearing that the Sea Goat had been shot, but would survive, a sizeable majority of animals had suggested shooting him again, and getting it right this time, dammit. They were voted down on a point of order, and because Bruin Bear was standing beside the Sea Goat’s wheelchair, carrying the biggest bloody gun the animals had ever seen. A voice at the back pointed out that it was against the rules to bring weapons to a Gathering. Bruin Bear pointed out that heckling was also against the rules, and that he felt quite capable of enforcing that rule with as much ammunition as necessary. He glared at the spectators, swivelling the gun casually back and forth, and everyone immediately replied that they took his point, and quite agreed. The Bear turned his back on them and sat down beside the Sea Goat, and heads slowly began to appear above the pews again. The Judge looked down on all this, and sighed heavily.
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