Exile

by Caleb James

  I know some good restaurants, Alice offered. And then you’ll get me dust?

  May laughed aloud. “You will have dust, and I will feed.”

  Alice mused at how weird it was to hear her own voice, but it wasn’t her thoughts steering the ship. Rather than frightened, she felt relief. So floaty in here… safe.

  “Sweet Alice, I doubt they serve the food I seek in restaurants. Though that would be nice. Perhaps in the future. Then again, I’d be the only patron.”

  May scanned the street. She spotted a lone Asian man taking pictures of the fire on his phone. She approached.

  Just as with the fireman who’d tried to save Alex, Alice watched May glamour the man. Watch and learn, sweet Alice. This is how it’s done. “Give me your hand, and walk with me,” she told him.

  He pocketed his phone and took the teen’s hand, the connection of his flesh to hers like a vacuum hooked to his life force. They headed south down Lexington. With each step he aged a year. By the end of the block, he clutched his chest and fell to the ground.

  While not nearly as succulent as dust, Alice felt the swirling eddies of the man’s vitality flow through her body.

  Inside her head, May chuckled. Crocodile tears flowed, and she cried out, “Oh, help! Help me. My grandpa is having a heart attack!”

  A crowd gathered.

  Phones came out of pockets, and 911 calls were placed. “What’s taking the ambulance so long?” a woman remarked.

  “No telling,” a man replied, and under his breath, “I don’t think it’s going to do any good.”

  Dressed in rhinestones, tulle, and cashmere, May slipped away. That was tasty, but the problem with Chinese takeout—five minutes later and you’re hungry again. “Come.” She glanced at a plume of smoke a block east on Park. “Time for something more filling and all the dust we can carry.”

  Goody for me! Alice thought.

  May knew she had succeeded where with the now-crispy Alex Nevus she had failed. She cloaked her thoughts from the dusted teen. Yes, goody for you. Dusted you are, and dusted you will stay. Goody for you, and goody for me.

  Twenty-Eight

  BACK IN Staten Island, Liam heard it before he saw it. The high-pitched sound drew him from bed, though he’d not been asleep. No. Please, no! Dressed in fleece-lined sweats and a tee that smelled of Charlie, he got off the changey sofa bed where he’d slept the night before and stepped onto the deck that overlooked the drive and the whitecapped waves across the street.

  He stared at the red streak in the sky. Fairy fire! It raced over the water, screaming as it went. She’s found me. He froze. Nothing can outrun fairy fire. But run he did. This was Charlie’s home. She can kill me, but she will not take his home or hurt those he loves.

  Barefoot, he raced down the stairs, and aware of Katie and Mike Fitzgerald in their beds, he shouted, “Fire! Fire!” Before he could yell it a third time, the missile hit not Charlie’s garage, but the Fitzgeralds’ home.

  “No!” He ran up the front steps as the glowing fireball melted and burned through the shingles, the plywood, and the joists below. “Fire! Fire!”

  The home was lit from inside, as this was a night where no one slept, all glued to their televisions and computer screens, aware that the city was under attack. All assuming it was the religious fundamentalists who had attacked before.

  “Mike, Katie! Fire! Fire!”

  Her eyes wide, Charlie’s mom came to the door. “Liam? What’s—?”

  “Your house.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to where she could see. The flames rose high in the sky as they gobbled wood and tar.

  Mike Fitzgerald followed, his expression unreadable as flames spread across the roof of the house he and his family had rebuilt.

  “Grab what we can.” And Mike vanished inside.

  Katie looked at Liam. She shook her head and followed her husband. Liam did the same. The house reeked of baked goods as Liam pulled framed photos from the wall. Some he recognized from Sunday dinner—Annie and Sal, Charlie. Two teenage boys on a raft with fishing rods and a white-plastic bucket, a younger redheaded Finn, and someone who had to be Charlie’s older brother, their expressions carefree. Finn holding a fish, the other with his legs dangling in the water. Liam grabbed them all, careful to not break the glass. He clutched them to his chest and ran as neighbors spilled from their homes, stood, pointed, and tried to help.

  “Has anyone called 911?”

  “I did.”

  “I did too. They said there are no trucks.”

  “Then get some fucking buckets! And hoses. Everyone get your garden hoses!”

  From either side of the Fitzgerald home, neighbors dispersed, and like honeybees fixed on a central purpose, hoses were collected and connected. Every portable fire extinguisher that could be found was raced across lawns and passed over fences.

  “Why does it smell like cookies?” a frightened child asked.

  “What are you talking about?” his mother replied.

  “It does,” another onlooker said. “Cookies. What the hell?”

  Liam caught snippets as he, now joined by the neighbors, did what they could to save anything of value as the fire devoured and spread.

  The fiery missile bored through the roof, undeterred by the puny streams of water from too small hoses.

  He followed Katie Fitzgerald into her bedroom. “What should I take?”

  She pointed at a box in her closet with clear plastic sides—her wedding dress.

  “Got it.” Beside it was a suitcase that looked old and out of place. He snatched that as well and piled on suits, a plastic-wrapped uniform, and whatever else he could manage.

  His thoughts were tortured as his lungs choked on smoke. This is my fault. She came for me. He ran out and deposited his load at the bottom of the drive next to the growing wall of Fitzgerald belongings. A man grabbed him by the shoulders. “You can’t go back!”

  He turned as the portion of the roof over the living room collapsed. On either side of the house, ladders had been erected, and garden hoses poured their sad streams onto the raging ball of fairy fire.

  “Where are the fire trucks?” a woman cried. “Where are they?”

  Liam searched for the Fitzgeralds. He panicked. “Mike! Katie!”

  They found him. “We’re okay,” Mike gasped, barely able to catch his breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” Liam said.

  Katie nodded, too choked with emotion to speak.

  “It’s just stuff,” Mike Fitzgerald said, his jaw tight, his arm around his wife as they watched their home burn. “It’s just stuff, Katie. We put it back together once. We’ll do it again.”

  Finally, a siren, and then a second.

  Liam wanted to scream This is my fault!

  Katie, her face streaked with tears, looked back at the pile of her belongings, which stretched across the yard and much of the driveway. She pointed to the cardboard child’s suitcase next to her wedding dress. “You got my doll,” she said to Liam. “Thank you.” She stared at the flashing lights as they neared. A small engine, with a lone firefighter, finally appeared at the end of the street.

  Liam had no words. He watched the crowd part as the engine drove up. Several of the men and a few of the women pitched in and uncoiled the thick hose and hooked it up to a hydrant. Like a giant python, it swelled with pressurized water.

  He watched them battle the ball of fairy fire. He knew it was useless. It would burn until it had devoured itself. Nothing or no one could extinguish it. At best, they might contain the peripheral damage. He thought of Sunday dinner and how proud Charlie and his dad had been of their hardwood floors, crown moldings, and the new powder room, which as far as he could tell held no powder. My fault. This was meant for me.

  Then, as if Charlie were inside his head: This is not your fault. You did not set fire to Katie and Mike’s home. You did not do this. A fire of a different sort kindled in his brain. Things he’d never considered lit up. You did not kill your parents a
nd force a small boy to watch. This is her. It has always been her.

  Old habits die hard. His shame and guilt, like old pals, demanded to be heard. You were her whore.

  He stared at the fire and at the neighbors, who clustered around Mike or Katie or helped steady the hose or balanced on ladders with garden hoses. I have to make this right. He looked at Charlie’s little house over the garage. The fire hadn’t touched it, so at least Katie and Mike would have a place to stay. I have to make this right. He wondered why she hadn’t taken out the garage, if in fact this had been aimed at him. Or was it? Charlie had passed between the See and the Unsee and made it back again without being broken. What does that mean? Even so… her aim was off. She is not invincible. Alex and Jerod defeated her. She can be bested. This was meant for me. And she missed, and she hurt Katie and Mike… and Charlie. What will he think? He’ll know this is my fault.

  Without conscious thought, he moved farther and farther down the front yard. He walked behind the wall of furniture, clothes, and pictures they’d salvaged. I have to make this right. I know her best. I know what she likes. I know what she eats… who she eats. His mind played over all they’d learned in Katye’s apartment. Something clicked. This fire and all the others, yes, they were meant to take out her enemies, but that was secondary. How did I miss this?

  He turned from the Fitzgeralds’ house on fire and traced a path back to the island of Manhattan, uncertain if the ferryboat ran this late at night or if it would run at all on a night filled with such horror and danger. It didn’t matter. He knew what was needed. The path before him was now clear.

  As neighbors and family did what they could, he ran into the night without money, without MetroCard, and without a plan, other than find Queen May, stop her from taking Alex’s haffling sister, Alice, and—or—die trying.

  Twenty-Nine

  CHARLIE WAS still at the smoldering Murray Hill fire where he’d nearly died with Alex, who’d been grabbed by a pair of paramedics. As they’d done their quick assessment, Charlie knew there’d be bad burns, but at least nothing on his face or hands. He should be okay. Please, let him be okay. He startled at the sound of his cell.

  He glanced at the screen. His head was still in a fog with whatever spell May had tossed at him. It took him till the third ring to connect the name on his phone to a real person… his dad. He picked up. “What’s up?”

  “Charlie, I wanted to get to you before anyone else.”

  Over the sirens, he heard the pain in Dad’s voice. His pulse raced. “What’s happened?”

  “The house….”

  “Are you and Mom okay? Is Liam okay?”

  “Yeah. No one’s hurt. It’s just stuff.”

  Katie Fitzgerald came on the phone. “Charlie, we’re okay. No one got hurt.”

  “What happened?” Charlie asked, though he knew.

  “One of those fireballs landed on the roof. Liam must have seen it. He got us out. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t have been able to save anything…. And your apartment and the garage weren’t touched, just smoke on the siding.”

  He felt sucker punched. The entire night had been a weirdfest marathon. No one got hurt. They’re okay. Liam’s okay.

  “Let me talk to Liam.” He needed to hear his voice, to tell him the thing he should have said last night. Then it would have been perfect. Now….

  “Sure,” Katie said.

  Charlie waited as a text came from his brother Michael and another from his sister Annie. Bad news traveled fast. He looked across at the building on fire. He needed to get back to work and battled a sense of futility that nothing they did tonight could possibly be enough. Lives were being lost, but at least Mom and Dad were okay. Liam was okay.

  His mom’s voice returned. “Dear… I can’t find him.”

  “What do you mean?” His gut clenched.

  “I know he’s okay,” she said. “But he was in the yard just a few minutes ago, and… maybe he had to take a walk on the beach or something. He was very brave, Charlie. I like your Liam. He saved the case with my old doll. I know it’s not that important, but….” She cried. “We’re going to stay in your place tonight.”

  “Of course.” He knew he needed to get back to work, but all he could think of was Liam. “Mom, when you see Liam, call me or text. Just let me know he’s okay.”

  “He is, dear. And I will. I promise.”

  He hung up, then read the texts from his brother and sister.

  Michael: “Everyone is safe. House is totaled. Guess we can finally get the tiling right in the bathroom. City is a zoo. Got to go. Stay safe.”

  Annie: “Horrible. Everyone safe. You be safe. I love you. Stay safe. I mean it, Charlie!!!!!”

  Why didn’t I get Liam a phone? He felt helpless and pulled between wanting to get the hell out of there, check in with his family, and find Liam. Where would he go? He doesn’t know anyone, just me and my family. He replayed the day and pressed Gran’s number.

  With the cell to his ear, he waited. Fear nipped at his thoughts. Pick up. Please pick up. Seconds passed, dread grew. Pick up.

  “Charlie?”

  “Gran, you’re okay.”

  “I am. This is her work. This is all May.”

  “Do you know why? Did those books tell you that? Did they tell you how to stop her?”

  “She wants back into this world,” Gran said. “And not as a salamander. Liam and Nimby told me about fairy fire, and there was more in those books. Fairy fire, after it burns out, leaves a drug residue… fairy dust. For some fey, and apparently humans as well, it’s more addictive than heroin. So when all these fires burn out, there’s going to be drugs. I wonder if she plans to create an army of drug-addicted followers, with her as their only source.”

  Despite all, and the pressing need to get back to his station mates, Gran’s hypothesizing made him smile. Next to old Irish tales, Gran loved her crime shows. “Seriously, CSI: fairyland?”

  “Charlie, don’t make fun. And true, it doesn’t tick enough boxes. She wants her body back… or somebody’s body.”

  “Oh God. That’s it!”

  And like poking a hole in a balloon, the last of the spell May had cast, which had nearly cost both his and Alex’s lives, vanished. “She took the girl. She’s inside Alice Nevus. And she did something to me.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Yeah.” He looked at the building, now nearly out, and his station mates. They’d finally figured how best to fight these blazes and had spread the word. They’d start in the basement, where the projectile landed, and while nothing seemed to extinguish it, if they could contain the peripheral damage, then the building was left with a ceiling-to-basement hole but still upright and structurally viable. “She hit the building where Alex’s mother and sister live.”

  “You know she’s not really his mother but a changeling.”

  “I didn’t, and I…. Too weird. So Alex raced in, and I went after him. We got up to their place, and his sister was in the closet, and then she came out, and she was in some kind of ballet outfit, and she walked right through the fire. Not just through it, but stood over it. Her dress should have gone up like a rocket. It didn’t touch her. Alex was out cold, and she looked at me, and she said something and did something, and I couldn’t move, and she was in my head to where everything was dull. I couldn’t remember anything. She meant to kill us.”

  “Charlie!”

  “Nimby kept buzzing my head and tried to get me to move. I couldn’t. But I thought about Liam—and I know you don’t like him, Gran, and you don’t trust him, but I love him—and that’s what helped. And the more I realized it was true, and that I had to tell him, the more whatever she did went away. I could walk again, and I got us out of there…. And now he’s gone…. Do you know where he is?” Hope blossomed. “Is he with you?”

  There was silence.

  “Gran? You there? Hello!”

  “I’m here, Charlie. You nearly died tonight. I will not lose you.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t intend to get lost.”

  “Said the man who runs into burning buildings and nearly gets enchanted to death by a fairy queen. I have no illusions, Charlie, about you or any of our boys, and now even our girls. You do these things to help, and I love you for it. But why couldn’t some of you become accountants? Or even a doctor would be nice.”

  “Do you know where he’d go? Please… tell me.”

  “I do, and Charlie, I know you love him. I think he has feelings for you as well. Though I’m uncertain if he even knows what they are. I do know this—he’s changed here, and you’re a part of that. He’s the one who raised the alarm at your parents’ house. I will always be grateful for that.”

  “They’re okay,” Charlie said, parroting his mother’s words and those of thousands of disaster survivors. “It’s just stuff. They’re safe.”

  “I think I know what Liam intends… because he wants to be like you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “He’s going to go after her.”

  Charlie thought of the blonde girl in her pink tutu who walked through the fire, said a few words, and nearly killed him and Alex. He gasped. “He’s no match for her.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s what he’ll do. He’s going to try to stop her, and he will fail.”

  His cell buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Jerod.

  “Gran, I have to take this.” He told her that he loved her, that he’d stay safe, and he hung up.

  Jerod’s words came fast and frantic. “Charlie, you got to talk some sense into him. He’s trying to leave against medical advice.”

  Before he could respond, Jerod was replaced by Alex Nevus’s almost unrecognizable smoke-damaged voice. “She has Alice.”

  “I know,” Charlie said. “She tried to kill us. She nearly did.”

  “This is bad,” Alex wheezed. “You don’t know what she’s capable of.”