Darkshine

by R. D. Vallier

  But every glow casts a shadow. Insecurities crept around me like swamp mist, blurring Orin's perfect illustrations. I had been born a faerie, but I was raised white trash in a midwest trailer park, and my life experiences didn't extend much further than a cash register and a kitchen. How would I ever contribute to this faerie land? Would my dullness mar its shine? Would I be a drain on its striving perfection? I tried pushing my insecurities away, but like swamp mist it swirled, recollected, lingered. I asked Orin questions to distract myself, but I never interrupted or interjected when he spoke. I remained silent, attentive, eager to snatch up the Realm's details and secrets and truths. I wanted Orin to tell me everything. Maybe then I would stride into his magical world and prevent myself from playing the fool.

  "I do admit I prefer the Realm," Orin said. "Night and coldness are nonexistent there; it's always warm and sunny." Something red glinted on the freeway shoulder. Orin picked up a chunk of broken reflector and twisted it in the sunlight, making it flash. He licked his thumb, cleaned the dust off the surface, and placed it in his jacket pocket. "That's not to say Earth hasn't influenced our culture. Most faeries blackout their bedrooms to sleep better. The practice was once discouraged in fear of darklings murdering citizens in their beds, but with stronger security now in place it's no longer a concern. Earth-workers must still be cautious, of course."

  "Do you worry about that, with becoming a retriever and all?" I asked.

  "Naw. I've been trained to deal with darklings. When you get down to it, most of them are cowards. Most evil things are."

  I remembered Delano's blood-moon eyes and shuddered. "Cowardly or not, I never want to face one again."

  Orin chuckled. "At the rate we're going, you'll be a darkling expert by the time we reach the Realm. Don't be surprised if the Realm offers you an Earth job because of it."

  I perked. "You think the Realm will offer me a job?"

  "Of course. The Realm guarantees everyone a job. Why not you?"

  I shrugged. "I figured I'm too talentless, too long removed."

  Too illegitimate.

  "Nonsense," Orin said, waving his hand dismissively. "We just need to find your niche. Hmmm. You might enjoy being a taleteller."

  "What's a taleteller?"

  "They're faeries who spread lies to humans to protect the Realm. They're why humans believe faeries are tiny and flowery and imaginary. They often receive assignments infiltrating Earth's entertainment industry."

  "Oh. I suck at lying."

  Orin tapped his lip with his forefinger in thought. "Let's see, then. What abouuut..." His face brightened, blue eyes sparkling. "A healer! You'd make an excellent healer!"

  My nose scrunched up. "I'm not into blood."

  Orin chuckled. "Not that kind of healer. An Earth healer. They're faeries assigned to repairing nature. You could help heal the acid mine drainage you told me about."

  I blinked. Me? Seriously? Repair the pollution that devastated landscapes and killed wildlife beyond count? Me? My insides tingled with excitement. And fear. The polluted orange waters spanned numerous states. How could a mouse like myself handle such an enormous task? Then again, how could I not? Orin insisted I had the power inside me to make such changes. If I let self-doubt block me from repairing a poisoned land, then I was no better than those who did the poisoning.

  "If I healed the land ... I ... You don't know how much that would mean, Orin. The destruction is terrible."

  Orin nodded solemnly. "Yes. The chickadee described it to me," he said. I declined the candy cane he offered me from his inner coat pocket. He tore off the cellophane and bit the end. "Faeries left Ohio's region after it was deemed stable a few centuries ago. The Realm is probably unaware of the damage and will be thrilled to have someone knowledgeable of the area to restart the healing."

  I had felt helpless along those orange banks, but if I convinced the Realm to allow me to work with those poisoned waters, heal them, help them thrive … My gait became a bounce. "What do I need to do?" I asked. "Do you think the Realm will let—?"

  A semi truck blew its horn—Woooommmmp!—its engine rumbling as it rolled ahead of us, pulling to a stop on the side of the road. We hurried to the cab and opened the passenger door. The driver peered down at us, a heavyset woman with a frizzy perm and a one-eyed toy poodle nestled in her lap. "Where you two headed?" she asked.

  "West," Orin replied.

  She nodded pensively, as if he had relayed detailed instructions. "I can take you as far as The Hills. Will that do ya?"

  "Sounds great," Orin said, though I doubted he had any idea where The Hills was.

  The next several hours were torture. We traveled fast on warm leather seats, yet I had a hard time feeling grateful. To my left, the truck driver gobbled endless amounts of sunflower seeds and griped incessantly about politicians. The answers to my awaiting life sat to my right, forced into silence, his mica hair glinting against the window.

  The truck driver dropped us off at a freeway exit littered with billboards and fast food marquees—our best chance to find accommodations for the night, she had said. We snacked on cinnamon toast leftover from breakfast as we walked the mile toward the motels, the town hardly more than a dingy smudge on the roadway. It was here where I realized why Orin carried so much cash. We had no identification or credit cards, but some motels took bribes. Orin said they were easy to spot—cracked paint, old signs, cigarette butts on the walkways. I doubted him, however, after the second roadside motel kicked us out, and I worried we would spend the night on the street. But Orin kept his head high, smiling brightly as we entered motel number three. The lady behind the counter glowered suspiciously at us with piggy eyes, but when Orin offered payment in full, a three-hundred dollar deposit, and a hundred dollar bribe, she asked no questions, had us sign no papers, and handed him a key card.

  Our motel room was a 1970s scrap pile. Lumpy green carpet, veined mirror, golden sconces. Orin dropped his backpack to the floor and petted the peeling flocked wallpaper as if the room had come with a lapdog. "The wars lasted far too long," he said, continuing our conversation from our walk through the town. He tossed his fedora to the nearest bed. "We lost too many faeries in senseless blood. Fortunately, those days have mostly ended. The remaining darklings still cause havoc, but the Realm no longer worries. History always proves good defeats evil in the end."

  "Have darklings ever tried making trees?" I asked.

  Orin tilted his head. "Trees?"

  "I mean peas. Gah!" I rolled my tongue with frustration. " I mean peace! Have darklings ever tried making peace. Sorry. I think my brain fell asleep without me."

  Orin chuckled softly. "The only peace darklings attempted were lies used to kill good men foolish enough to trust their word." He ripped off a small piece of flocked wallpaper and folded it into his pocket. "Go to sleep. We have a long way to go and will talk more on the road."

  Twelve hours later I woke from a bladder trying to burst its seams. Orin sat at the rickety table beside the window in his tattered jeans and tweed jacket. A daddy longlegs perched on his thumb near his face. He smirked as I shuffled out of the bathroom, yawning.

  "Sleep well?" Orin asked.

  I nodded groggily and rummaged through our backpacks for the remainder of our truck stop leftovers, only to find them gone. "Sorry," Orin said, sinking into his shoulders. "I woke up hungry an hour ago and figured you'd sleep until morning." My stomach growled and Orin frowned. He peeked out the curtains. The sky was tinted with navy, the first hint of the dawn.

  Orin's brow wrinkled as if in deep concentration. After a few seconds he asked the spider: "What do you think?" All I heard in response was silence, but Orin sighed as if he had received an answer of little help. "Yeah, same here."

  "Is that spider actually talking?" I asked.

  "Of course," Orin said.

  "Why can't I hear it?"

  "You must strengthen your magic first." Orin set the daddy longlegs onto the table, then flipped the fedora onto his hea
d. "We believe there is enough light, and there's a restaurant across the street. I'll bring us back some breakfast. But don't open the door for anybody."

  Orin jiggled the doorknob after he left to make sure it was locked. I knelt beside the table, eye-level with the daddy longlegs. "Have anything to say?" I asked, and strained my ears to listen.

  The daddy longlegs lifted its leg and pointed at my nose.

  "Sorry. I don't understand sign language," I said. The spider scurried off the table and out of sight. "Fine. Be that way."

  Every muscle in my body felt locked in a winch. I started a shower, hoping the hot water would pound away my aches and pains. I had just soaked my hair when I realized the shampoo was in my bag beside the bed. My skin broke out in gooseflesh when I stepped from the stall, the tile icy against my feet. I tied a thin towel over my chest and opened the door.

  Delano stood on the other side.

  I shrieked. Delano shoved his foot inside before the door slammed shut. I ducked and rushed for the gap between him and the doorjamb. His hand slid down my wet arm as I slipped through. He snatched my wrist, jerking my shoulder in the socket.

  "Let go!" I shouted.

  "Quiet you foolish girl," Delano hissed.

  "Help! Someone help me!"

  He grabbed my other wrist and shook me to face him. The towel loosened and started to slip. "Pay attention!" he snapped. I struggled and writhed as he forced my hands to his temples. My fingers brushed his ears. The tips were deformed—flat, bumpy, vaguely resembling the edge of a pie crust. I froze, wide-eyed.

  "I will not hurt you," Delano said. "As I recall, you were the one who threw a rock at my head, scratched me, and killed my moth, all because I built you a fire, warmed the weather, and said hello."

  "You chased me and tackled me in the snow!"

  "Yes. How terrible of me," Delano sneered. "Not wanting a young woman to run off screaming into the nighttime wilderness, alone and freezing." I opened my mouth to retort; he cut-me off. "Besides, even if I wanted to harm you, I wouldn't dare with your faerie guide lurking this close. So sit down. Quietly. I want only to talk, all right?"

  My deep breath steamed in the frigid air. I nodded and Delano released me. I noticed the upper-right of his irises were flattened, like thumbprints in balls of red clay. I clenched the towel over my dripping body and sat on the chair beside the table, the cushion scratchy against my bare thighs. My teeth started to chatter. Delano fetched my overcoat from the dresser and swirled it over me as if preparing my lap for crystal flutes and white bone china. Warily, I slid my arms into the backward sleeves. Steam billowed out the bathroom door across the room; the shower water pattered.

  "Ss-so what do you want?" I asked.

  "For you to listen. But I damn well know you won't. Not yet, anyway. So instead I want you to ask questions."

  "Errrr. Why are you chasing me, then?"

  Delano barked a laugh. "Not to me. To Orin." A glimpse of the bed flashed through his arm. I jerked back, startled. Delano scowled at his fingers, blipping in and out of sight as if powered on a weak circuit. "Damn. Dawn is almost here."

  I lifted a mocking eyebrow. "Aww. Will you burst into flames?"

  "Sadly, no." Delano smiled a strained smile, which reminded me of a war captive cursed with hope and undying faith. It made my insides curl with shame. "I will merely disappear into the darkshine until sunset."

  I cleared my throat. "What's the darkshine?"

  "Light covers darkness. It does not repel darkness like humans believe. The dark and its magic are always present—darklings are always present—beneath the sunlight's magical current, watching from the darkshine like ghosts until sunlight fades." He noticed my confusion and smiled apologetically. "It is difficult to explain and must be experienced to fully understand."

  I thought about the campfire, about the charcoal shining black in the flame.

  Delano knelt in front of me, the edge of his feathery hair translucent. "So listen quick. Ask Orin questions. Ask until you are satisfied, then doubt his word and ask him more."

  "All I do is ask him questions!"

  "You ask him about pleasantries, about pretty lands and stories that glitter and shine. Ask the ugly questions. He told you faeries flatten their infants' ears to hide them from the darklings, right? So why are Orin's ears pointed? How do faeries know which infants to hide?

  "You see my ruddy eyes, my crawling shadows and world of darkness, and assume I am the bad guy. And because you assume, you believe it is truth. Yet a cute chickadee talks and you instantly assume good intentions? You place your faith in a stranger who shines?" Delano chuckled, darkly. "I hear you even feared the coyote until it licked your face. Will it help my cause to do the same?" He slid his tongue across his teeth.

  "No!" I gasped, making Delano laugh. I glowered. "You're trying to trick me. Orin is harmless. He is like me. He's—"

  "—a changeling?" Delano finished for me. His eyes twinkled like starlight. "Another question to ask." He slid a finger along the ridge of his flattened ear. "Who are you really like?"

  The door's electronic lock clacked. "I hope you like—" Orin's eyes widened. He dropped the carryout bag in the doorway and rushed Delano, snarling. I gasped and pulled my feet onto the chair as Orin struck the darkling's gut like a pendulum. Delano wheezed and fell to his knees.

  "Orin, stop! You're hurting—" I caught my tongue. Am I seriously defending my enemy?

  A rush of moths flew through the door and swarmed Orin's head. Orin stumbled backward, arms thrashing. Delano morphed into a shadowman and sped for the door, a silhouette blipping in and out of focus. Orin lunged for the silhouette's arm, magic shimmering like waves of heat off his skin. "I expose you, you bastard!"

  Delano squealed like a fox with its foot in a trap; his face materialized in the silhouette, twisted with pain. Orin drew a knife with a six-inch blade from inside his jacket. The sun broke the horizon and Delano disappeared like a shadow in the light, his clothing falling to the floor.

  "Raaaagh!" Orin yelled, and kicked Delano's pants across the room. Springtime had vanished from his face, giving way to a sweltering summer. "I know you're still here you darkslime!" Orin shouted to the air. Wildfires blazed in his eyes. He brandished the knife as the moths rushed out the door. "I know you hear and see me. Leave her alone!"

  Orin threw his head back in frustration. "I am such an idiot." He set the knife on the table and hurried to my side. "Are you hurt?"

  "No. He just wanted to talk."

  "To poison your mind with lies, you mean," Orin spat. "I am so sorry. I thought we were safe with light in the sky. I should have waited until the sun fully broke the horizon, but I stupidly ate all the food and your stomach growled and—" He started collecting our belongings in a mad frenzy. "Get dressed. We must leave immediately. We need to—"

  "Orin, relax." He wheeled around, his eyes still blazing. "Delano can't hurt us from the darkshine, right?"

  "No. But the creep is watching us." I lifted an eyebrow, silently asking what would stop Delano from following and watching us as we headed out. Orin sighed. "Okay. Fine. But please let's hurry."

  The shower's water had turned into glacier runoff. Although knowing Delano might be spying deterred me from finishing my shower, anyway. "You better hide your eyes," I murmured to the bathroom walls, and struggled to dress myself beneath my overcoat.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, Orin was exchanging his white T-shirt for the black turtleneck, his bare back facing me. "That's an interesting tattoo," I said.

  Black lines laced down his back like wrought iron twisted into the shape of dragonfly wings. Orin glanced over his shoulder, smiling proudly. Spring had returned to his face and I saw the man of sunshine and apple blossoms and warm summer rain. "It's the design of the border sentries," he said. "But if I'm promoted to retriever the Realm will fill the gaps with—"

  The daddy longlegs crawled up Orin's side and rested beside his ear. Orin's pointed ear. I bit my lip, my fingertips
humming with the ghost print of Delano's flattened ridge.

  "What is it?" I asked as the daddy longlegs scurried back to the floor.

  "She says we need to watch channel three." Orin clicked on the television and switched the channel to the morning news.

  My husband's face scowled on the screen.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "You are such a liar!" I shouted at Sam's face.

  "She loved taking walks," Sam told the news-camera. A yellow banner flashed Christmas Abduction! across the bottom of the screen. His lips slid into a joyless smile. "But when she didn't come home, I knew something was wrong. She would never disappear without reason."

  "Without reason? You asshole! You—" My throat tightened, stifling my words. You cheated on me. My eyes watered. I couldn't say it. I couldn't hear the words aloud. I couldn't make them true.

  Orin squeezed my shoulder gently. "Shhhhh."

  I ground my teeth, my fingernails digging into my palms. Pornographic photos of Sam's secret lover had proved he didn't want me. Our phone conversation made it clear my wellbeing was outside his concerns. So why is he trying to drag me back into his life? It was as if he smelled my freedom, and like a missile zoomed in to destroy my happiness. Well screw you, Sam. Screw. You. I no longer want your darkness impeding my life. For the first time in my life I am free.

  At least, I had been.

  Sam's shirt collar was wrinkled and I hated myself for feeling a pang of guilt. "Fortunately we traced her phone call. I just pray she is still alive and unharmed." The bridge of his nose wrinkled as if distressed, but I knew better. Sam's eyebrows always arched when he was genuinely upset. Instead they locked in a straight line. I knew that expression as well as his barbs which had always followed throughout our marriage. Anger. Vindictiveness. I shuddered to the memories as if the past had opened before me and brought a cold wind.