by Martha Carr
Still, Perrom was perfectly comfortable standing there, at home in his childhood playground.
“What brings you this far into the sanctuary? You haven’t paid me a visit in here in quite some time.”
Perrom turned toward the voice, giving an easy smile. He couldn’t see who was talking but he knew exactly where his father was standing. It was never a simple trick to get along with his demanding father, but he still loved him and it showed. The fireflies responded to the sound of the Gardener of the Dark Forest’s voice and swarmed over his head, giving him a halo of light cascading down around his face. Perrom was sure he taught the small bugs to do that on purpose. It only added to the legend the few times others thought they had seen the mythical Gardener.
“I came about the sanctuary in Texas.”
The Gardener gave out a light whistle and more fireflies appeared, swarming overhead casting a soft glow that extended even further lighting up where they were both standing. Perrom marveled once again at the thick carpet of moss that ran all over the ground like rolling waves of deep green water. Here and there night flowers sparkled from the light, closing their petals slowly, preferring to open only in total darkness.
“What’s happened to the sanctuary?” He snapped out the words, throwing out his chest, the vines growing through his dreadlocks crawling and twisting.
“Nothing…yet. You can relax, too. Trying to look larger to scare someone off doesn’t have quite the same effect on your son.” All of Perrom’s irises slid forward together to look at his father. “You need to come through a portal and meet with some friends of Correk’s. A human who calls himself General Anderson. He has power over some of what goes on in the country you chose for your sanctuaries and he can help to protect us.”
The Gardener shook his head hard, scowling. “That sanctuary has been there for years and we’ve been able to protect it without outside help. No… no, bringing in humans only leads to disaster. Over half of the fauna and flora in this large sanctuary were taken to keep them from extinction on their home planet.”
“The general wants to help us. I believe him.” Perrom pounded his chest with his fist, a common symbol by a Wood Elf that he was giving his word.
“I’m sure he does, for now. And when his interests change, so will his ideas about helping to protect the sanctuary.”
“Times are changing, people on Earth know about magic and the gates will start opening sooner rather than later. You’re going to have to trust someone for the sanctuaries to survive and thrive. Let’s start here. Correk will help. Come through the portal with me and meet the general. If I’m wrong or you at least think I’m wrong, we can wipe the visit from his memory.”
“Give me one good reason to go…”
Perrom smiled, remembering the lesson from when he was young. His father was already halfway convinced if he was choosing to bring up the game.
“In the end, the only way all of the birds and insects and animals and great trees and reeds that you’ve saved will survive after you’re gone is if enough beings want them to. We will need to teach them to care, instead of making them afraid for their lives if they venture into the Dark Forest and meet the bogeyman. Also known as my father.”
The Gardener let out a deep laugh that echoed through the forest. Perrom knew that children talked about the sound and told each other the Gardener laughed when he caught an Elf or a pixie who wandered in too far, never to be seen again.
“Come with me to the other sanctuary and meet the general. Start letting humans in on your secret. If the prophesies are right and all of this will have to move, we had better get started. It will look like we’re restocking their planet and you’d rather they saw that as an opportunity to do things right this time and not an all you can eat buffet.”
The Gardener bristled and the antlered lion who was never far from his side growled somewhere in the darkness. “I’ll go, but one misstep, one talk of bringing more humans or letting the world know and I’ll erase his memory myself and leave him standing on a small island wondering how he got there.”
Perrom smiled. “Fair enough. We maroon the general if he turns out to be an asshole. I’ll come and get you when the meeting is arranged.” Perrom formed a ball of light in his hands, pulling his hands apart as the portal opening appeared and grew.
“I’ll come with you now and check on the sanctuary.” His father reached out and laid his large, strong hand heavily on his son’s shoulder, transporting them both through the opening and onto the grounds of the sanctuary. Perrom held still for a moment, waiting for his head to stop spinning. Never can get used to that extra twist.
They stood on the edge of the grounds, watching the cars in the far distance driving by, no one slowing down to look. The magical cloak around the property was holding. “The sanctuary is safe.”
The Gardener looked around at the rolling hills and the forest behind him as an elephant trumpeted. “Only because I defend it.”
What does that mean? Perrom’s irises moving in every direction scanning the ground. “Are there secrets buried here?” Bodies?
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Perrom. It’s a good rule in life. Now go, I have work to do here. Come alone to tell me of the meeting and then we’ll all meet.” The Gardener turned and whistled as a young unicorn emerged at the top of the hill, galloping toward them. The Gardener climbed on his back, holding on to the mane as the unicorn whinnied. “You’re part of this family even if no one on Oriceran knows it. Some day when I’m gone this will all be yours.” He rode off without waiting for Perrom’s answer.
“That’s what worries me,” said Perrom, even though no one was left to hear him.
Chapter Ten
Blake Johnson was having a pretty good day. He knew it from the moment he got up and the neighbor’s dog wasn’t barking. For once. There was even just enough coffee left to make one pot and no accidents on William Cannon Drive on his way to work. His old Ford pickup was making a strange noise but he cranked up the music and sang along and decided to forget about that for the day. Leave it till tomorrow.
I’m early! He got to the parking lot at the Austin Statesman and found a spot in the third row back. Never happens!
The morning’s paper was on his desk, along with an assignment to cover the Gardening Show and find some new decorating tips. “Not even going to dent this day,” he muttered.
“What are you so happy about?” asked his editor, Doug Freidell, who was passing by with a clipboard holding a layout of the day’s stories. He was wearing a short-sleeved yellow button-down shirt and a wide striped tie in various shades of brown.
“Didn’t even know they still made those things. Leftover from the ‘90’s?” Blake tapped the clipboard, smiling as he tilted his head to the side. “Do you leave it next to your CD collection with Wham and Duran Duran?”
“Don’t be dissin’ paper. You make your living off analogue, my friend. Seriously, what’s got you so giddy? It’s unnerving. You’re not even the guy who thinks the glass is half empty. You’re the one complaining about who must have stolen the other half.”
“Got a hot story I’m working on.” Blake set his ten-year-old backpack left over from college down on his desk. There were still gummy outlines from where Pokemon stickers used to cover it.
“Do tell. Don’t hold back from your editor. I’ve got a hole to fill. You have eight inches worth of words?”
“Not saying a word. Nope! Not a word until I have more. Too easy to write off.”
“Awww, come on Johnson, it’s not that Yeti story, is it? You do see where you’re working, right? We don’t do those kinds of stories. That’s the real fake news.”
“Not since those aliens came through a hole in mid-air outside that California restaurant. That makes this real news.”
“The government said that was smoke and mirrors.”
“I thought we were supposed to be the ones to figure out the news.”
“Good point, we
are and today your job is to ferret out the real news behind planting the best suburban garden to make all your neighbors jealous. Leave the yeti story for your off hours.” His editor tapped his ball point pen impatiently against the clipboard.
“Seriously dude, no tablet? Hang on, hang on, I got a call.” Blake saw the unfamiliar local number and felt his stomach knot up, wondering what had gone wrong. No, no, this is my day, dammit! “Hello?”
A high-pitched trill came through the phone followed by a loud cackle. “I hear you’re looking for me.” Yumfuck was using one of the burner phones Mara kept giving to him to call the reporter.
Freidell could hear the loud troll and smirked, waving his clipboard at Blake. “Hang up, it’s a prank! Someone saw your YouTube video. This is company time,” he said, tapping the face of his watch. “Garden Show, fifteen inches by this afternoon. Make me proud.” He was walking backward, still tapping his watch. “See if you can find something about decorating with vegetables. Alicia in Obits says that’s a hot thing these days.” His editor turned and waved his clipboard at another reporter as Blake rolled his eyes.
“Look, whoever this is, it’s not as funny as you hoped. No one’s ever heard of a talking Yeti.”
“Not a yeti. They’re more of an Earth thing,” squeaked the troll.
“Okay, enough.” Blake had his finger poised in the air to cut off the call, feeling the edges of his good mood fading away.
“I’ll prove it!” Yumfuck let out another cackle and hung up, quickly taking a selfie of himself using a selfie stick to push the button. He was standing on top of a pink box in front of Voodoo Doughnuts front window. The tall emblem with an outline of the voodoo doll doughnut logo. He texted the picture to the reporter and typed, ‘see you soon’, hopping off the box and sliding the phone under the lid, lifting it all over his head as he moved quickly down the street.
“Busy day,” he chirped to a couple walking by, holding hands. They looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Keep Austin weird,” the woman said.
“Now, that is lazy,” said her husband. “Getting your tiny dog to pick up your doughnuts. What do you think that was? Some kind of teacup chihuahua?”
“You’d totally do it if you weren’t so lazy you wouldn’t take the time to teach the dog.”
“Totally.”
A man walked by the troll, his sunglasses firmly on his face after a rager last night and stopped to watch the bobbing box till it turned the corner on San Jacinto Boulevard. “That tequila was a little more potent than I thought.” He scratched his head and went into the shop, walking up to the counter. “I’ll have whatever the little hairy dude was having and some strong black coffee.”
Chapter Eleven
Blake came running into Voodoo Doughnuts waving his phone. He pushed past the line that was starting to form in the late morning and shoved the picture of the troll smiling at the camera at the young man behind the cash register.
“That’ll be eight and change,” said the man, ignoring Blake’s phone as he helped the customer in front of him. He looked more bored than anything else.
Blake leaned on the counter, breathing hard and waited till the customer slowly took their change and counted it, putting it in their pocket and picked up the bag of doughnuts.
“Next!”
A woman in shorts and a puffy coat walked toward the counter.
“Wait! I have to know and then I’ll leave you alone. You see this… this… furry guy in here today?”
“I don’t talk to cops and I make a real point of not talking to crazy cops. What’ll you have?” The man turned his attention back to the new customer as she unzipped the front of her coat.
“That’s not a cop,” said the woman, looking Blake up and down. “Cops don’t wear hoodies.” She peered over the edge of his phone. “Yeah, sure, I’ve seen the little guy in here a few times. Loves the doughnuts but never carries a wallet. Someone always helps him out, though. Cute! You must have missed have him a little while ago.”
The color drained from Blake’s face. Even he wasn’t sure if the story he was chasing was true. He looked at the woman, his eyes shining till he noticed the t-shirt underneath her puffy jacket. She was wearing a green t-shirt with a surveillance camera on the front and underneath was printed, they’re watching.
Blake shook his head at her, annoyed. “Really? I’m trying to do a serious job here, lady.”
“Okay! That’s enough.” The cashier waved at Blake with a large, sweeping motion. “Move it along, buddy. You’re not even the weirdest thing I’ll see today but it’s a little early. Come on, go pester someone else.”
Blake stormed off toward the front, still waving the picture of the troll, angry that he was duped.
“Hey, hairy little dude! You got a picture!” The man in sunglasses smiled as he took another sip of his coffee. He was carefully leaning back against the wall near the front of the store right by the small stage. “You think you could send that to me if I give you my number?”
“You saw him?”
“Saw him and the box of doughnuts he rode out here on.” The man smiled again, briefly shutting his eyes. “Long night, if you know what I mean.” He sat forward and sipped his coffee. “Good stuff, black gold.”
Blake licked his lips, feeling hopeful and foolish all at once. “You see which way he went?”
“Oh sure, headed down San Jacinto last I saw him. Moving along. Strong little dude. Box never tilted.” He held his hands up in the air over his head to illustrate.
Blake ran out to the street and jogged to the corner looking in both directions but there was no sign of the troll. “Dammit!”
His phone pinged and he look down. Another selfie but this time the troll was standing outside of Cheer Up Charlies, flanked by two large drag queens getting ready for the cabaret brunch show. Blake ground his teeth in frustration and stared at his phone. He ran back to his car and took off, gunning the motor. He had to know.
The cashier saw Blake’s car speed by the front window, the tires squealing and shook his head. “That man is going to give himself a stroke. Needs to ease up,” he muttered. He looked up and yelled next, still talking. “Little furry hamster is in here all the time,” he said to a trio of girls visiting Austin from a small town in Oregon who were busy trying to figure out what to get. “Finally had to start comping him a few so he’d stop licking them all to figure out what he’d like. Gotta love Austin. We do our best not to hate on anybody. What’ll it be?”
Chapter Twelve
Charlie Monaghan was losing bits and pieces of time. He was sure of it. He found himself gritting his teeth, biting down hard trying to remember what he was just doing. Can’t be a stroke. Someone else would have noticed. It was making him work even harder at controlling whatever he could around him. Never let ‘em see you sweat, Charlie, old man. He carefully wiped his forehead with a starched white cotton handkerchief, careful not to muss the front of his hair. Not when you’re so close.
Charlie had plans… a lot of plans. At the center of all of them was Oriceran. He smiled at the thought. “Always good to be first at cornering the market on anything. Thank you, Langston Rogers for needing a favor so badly. Thank you, Louie for your services.” He raised his glass of two fingers worth of aged bourbon and took a large gulp. His cufflink twinkled in the light. “It’s good to be the king, despite Pearson Cowley.” He sneered as he took another swallow. So the board had voted against Charlie. That damnable Wizard will give me enough of what I need. The board will thank me when this is done. Charlie was always sure he was right, but lately there was an inner voice that was urging him on and making him feel he couldn’t lose. It helped him with his ambitious plans.
A few groups deep within Axiom Industries were quietly shifting gears away from their old lines of business and refitting to be able to do experiments on longevity, grow more food faster, and even build a better weapon. Even if the weapon was part animal and part artifact. But they all were
operating off the books, funded with money Charlie had been siphoning from the company for years, one penny at a time. Too small for anyone to notice but it had all added up to millions of dollars.
A war chest! That’s the key to everything! Charlie stood by his window on the top floor of the building, looking out over the Richmond, Virginia skyline. “We need to get to the artifacts first.” He looked down at his tie, straightening it out and saw that a button had chipped. Imperfection. “Tsk, will have to get rid of this one.” It bothered his wife every time he insisted on throwing something away because of some flaw that sometimes only he could see.
He saw it all as necessary if he was going to maintain control over the three separate projects.
Each of the groups operating within Axiom knew nothing about the other and operated at black sites, removed from any official company sites in plain buildings that looked shuttered from the outside. Workers were bussed in for their shifts, so no cars would be suddenly parked around the locations. Updates were funneled through several layers of managers who only knew the name of the contact directly above them. At the top layer they all reported to one person who passed on anything interesting or of note to Charlie. He was the only person who knew of Charlie’s involvement in any of it or the connection to Axiom. Not even the connection to Charlie knew where the funding was coming from for the artifacts or the research. Only that there was a lot of it and it was at their disposal, as long as they produced results.
He was also the only person Charlie was sure would not betray him.