Lynne and Amber found a room with a queen-sized bed, soft lighting, and drawn curtains. They wasted no time.
“I missed you,” Lynne breathed, gently laying Amber out on the bed even as Amber unbuttoned Lynne’s shirt telekinetically.
“I missed you too, love - ahhh.”
“You like that?”
“Yes, my Lady.”
“You caused me a lot of worry, you know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You can make it up to me.”
“I will. May I have your mouth, my Lady please?”
“If I may have your mind.”
“Ah! Yes, my Lady. Mind and heart and soul and breath. Always. Forever.”
“That’s my sweet girl.”
****
“It’s a child molester…have a little child molester…” Rain sang as she fed a chunk of forearm into the sink’s toothy maw.
“Is it any good?” Djones sang back, recognizing the tune. He was busy mopping the floor of spatter.
“Not bad, but I’ve had better,” Rain replied with a grin.
Jared slapped his forehead but couldn’t help a sick chuckle. “So, Djones, what are you doing after this?”
“I was thinking of offering my services to you ladies and gentleman on your way to Summer’s castle, in my alternate capacity as bodyguard. You are a perfectly adequate specimen of manhood, Jared, but you are of the healing disposition rather than that of a strong, silent man. I cast no aspersions. The world needs many types of men. You have seen what dangers these ladies have already faced. The cry echoes across the battlements: ‘Djones will not rest until these fine individuals are safe!’”
“Guess that makes sense. Don’t you want money or something, though?”
“William has promised me some remuneration. If, out of sheer gratitude, the Lady Spring chooses to make a few jewels materialize and give them to me once she is on home territory, I would not decline such a gift.”
Rain sang “It’s a Thankless Job” from Repo: the Genetic Opera, a song about reclaiming organ transplants when patients missed their payments.
Jared, who was cleaning and polishing Djones’ sword, tried to ask a question.
Djones held up a hand to silence him.
“I asked—”
At this, Djones threw a mug at Jared’s head and scowled. Luckily the sturdy crockery didn’t break. When Rain paused in her song, he doubled over in what looked like an intense stomach ache. “Please, finish! I can’t…I can’t bear it if…”
Raising her eyebrows, Rain sang the rest of the song through. Jared noticed that Djones’ breath calmed and his pain faded as she came close to completing it.
“What was that all about?” Jared asked.
Djones waved his right hand as a drowsy prince might greet an uninteresting guest. “I apologize for my rudeness. A drunken Fae with a grudge against my parents cursed me whilst I rocked in my cradle. I suffer intense pain if I hear the beginning of a song that I am unfamiliar with, but do not hear the rest.”
“How odd.” Though going into a coma after touching a spinning wheel wasn’t inherently weirder, Jared supposed.
“You know the Fae are a capricious and whimsical lot, out of the ken of we humans.”
Rain paused in her meat grinding. “While that’s accurate, it doesn’t mean we do stuff for no reason at all.”
“You know I mean no offense.” Djones crouched to pick up the mug he’d thrown.
****
Twig climbed out of the bag, having slept for several hours. Her trek to the train exhausted her. She had the good fortune to find a suitcase that she sensed was bound up in her creator’s destiny. Twig possessed the natural ability to perceive the threads of Kira’s past and future. She could walk through Kira’s memories, bearing the imprint of her personality. Twig’s own personality wasn’t strong on its own yet. She knew the man who owned this bag would do something that would alter the course of Kira’s life. She would discuss this with him when he reappeared.
For now, though, she was hungry. She smelled soil from the potted plants in the house. It was a slow climb up the stairs.
****
Kira Greer’s Last Will and Testament. Written in Anticipation of Her Coming Sacrifice to Prevent the World Going to Shit. Proofread and Made Nicer by Mei Lan “Melanie” Wong.
Papa, my Remington 870 shotgun, I leave to my sister Naomi, or to my mother if she will not take it. My remaining bullets are part of this gift.
My birdwatching book and binoculars, which are only a little cracked, I leave to my former friend Kyle from school. We used to like watching birds together. If he won’t take it, Melanie can have it, ‘cause she said at lunch that she likes birds too.
I leave my carpenter tools to my school, so they can teach other kids things in Shop despite not having much money for supplies.
My clothes I leave to Naomi. She’s a little taller than me but they can be adjusted. Mother sews pretty well. She gets my kayak too.
The projects I’ve carved and a lock of my hair I leave to mother, to remember me by.
My good boots go to Siobhan. We’re the same shoe size and she’s been nice to me.
My Ring of Confidence I bequeath to Goodwife Ash, so she can give it to some other babe in a basket. It served me well growing up.
Isaac can have the jerky I dried last fall and haven’t finished yet.
Gwen promised that Naomi, mother, Melanie, and Siobhan can all live in the castle as long as they like. If they don’t want to they’ll get plenty of money to set up elsewhere. That’s not a worry at least.
To Naomi also, I leave all my herbs for performing the necessary incantations to protect our home from the land’s magic. Go easy on the rose hips powder to avoid centipedes.
My soul I leave to any higher power interested in seeing to it, willing to overlook the littleness of it, and give it some kind of quiet home. I’m not sure if there is one, but I’ll say this just in case.
Signed, Kira Abish Greer
At One Point the Lady Summer
Thirteen
To Everything a Season
After dinner, Jared turned on his phone and slowly walked around the house to see if he could get a signal anywhere. Rain said it was unreliable but possible. When he opened the front door, he pumped a fist in triumph at seeing two bars of a 3G connection. He closed the door behind him and took a seat on the pinewood front steps. The sun was just setting, sending purple and pink streaks across the orange conifer-dotted cliffs and valleys in the distance. They reminded him of both canyon country and a Spaceman Spiff landscape. He checked his email. Unlike with many fantasy worlds he’d read about in books, time passed here at the same rate it passed Next Do – home.
He found nothing vital, mostly insurance stuff. Jared also found a quick Facebook message from Fox asking if he was okay and when he planned to return, since he wasn’t answering his phone.
Jared knew he should get back before the borders between the dimensions sealed again. Definitely. Right. That was something that had to happen. No matter how alluring this world of magic was, or how these people felt more real to him than anyone he’d known for years. No matter the fuzzy memory of that thing William could do with his tongue that Jared wouldn’t mind experiencing when sober. These were fancies he should not trust with his future.
The door clicked open and Amber wheeled herself out. She shut the door behind her with her mind, since her hands were busy with the wheels. “I’ll just stay up here for now. Not in the mood for any more levitation.”
“Did you sleep well?” Amber stared at him and Jared blushed. “I – I mean, did you lie comfortably?”
After an additional few seconds of silence, both burst out laughing. Amber extended her hand. “It takes a lot to impress Lynne, so I figure you’re a pretty cool guy. Didn’t get time to really introduce myself earlier. Thought I should fix that.”
Shaking her hand, Jared asked, “Do you have a physical therapist currently? I’ve
had some training in that field – I’ve kind of been shuffled around the various parts of the hospital…”
“Oh, are you a doctor?”
“I’m a nurse.”
“Hey, that’s even better out in the boonies than a doctor most of the time. If you were on a rag-tag smuggling spaceship with lots of gunshot wounds you’d need a surgeon, but most health problems here are the same as in developing nations Next Door. Stuff like dysentery, cholera, malaria, AIDS, malnutrition, unwanted pregnancy, mother and infant mortality. All nurse territory.”
“Can I hug you?”
“Sure.”
Jared leapt to hug her. “That’s what I always try to tell people.”
“You’re welcome.” Her smile was smooth and gentle. “If you do by some terrible chance get stuck on this side, I’ll have you train other nurses in the hospitals of Spring. Lynne’s set a bunch up at my request. I could go to your home and sort out your affairs for you, get you declared ‘legally dead’, and fetch whatever personal belongings you can’t live without.”
“That makes me feel a lot better, thanks. Did you make a reference to a certain delightful television show? I think I love you. Platonically, of course. I don’t want Lynne to dissect me alive with a penknife.”
Amber laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about it. She knows where my sympathies lie.”
“Is she feeling okay? She didn’t come down to dinner. Djones ordered a meat-and-dairy-free vegetable tart for her, along with the emu pizza. I never had emu before, by the way. It was good.”
“It’s more practical to keep emus in Drought than cattle. Far less needy. Lynne is fine. She didn’t sleep at all last night out of worry, poor dear, so she was exhausted.”
Jared yawned. “I’m pretty wiped myself. I feel like Arthur Dent, lost in space in my pajamas.”
“You look a bit more like his friend Ford, at least in the film version.”
“Eh. Except for a few things, like relative diversity, I liked the BBC version better.”
“Me too!”
“Forty-two.”
She met her reference with another. “Don’t panic.”
They high-fived. “Oh, it’s good to geek out with someone who understands,” Jared said.
Amber’s grin faded. “There was something I want to discuss with you before I forget. What’s your opinion on Mister Djones? He’s been very helpful, but there’s something I can’t help but—”
The door opened again and Djones emerged, his bowler in one hand and a silver cigarette-holder grasped between his right thumb and fingers. “Mind if I light up? Rain strenuously objects to flame indoors. Something about once her wings setting ablaze.” He carefully sidestepped Amber’s chair. Somehow he managed to sprawl elegantly on what little bit of shaded scrub could be charitably called ‘lawn’.
“I’d rather you didn’t. Secondhand smoke is a real killer,” Jared said.
Djones sighed. “Very well. I will take a pinch of snuff instead. Glad to see you up and about after your ordeal, Mademoiselle. I trust your coitus was satisfactory. Pardon if that was the improper thing to say. The tender passions are among the few aspects of the human condition that forever baffle me. Mine the head and hand, not the heart, much like a certain Mister Holmes beloved in book and cinema.”
“I’m, um, uh, yeah. Fine.” Amber scratched her head. “I think I’ll go thank Rain for her assistance in getting help.”
“I should probably take a look at her bandages, see if I can make her more comfortable,” Jared added, sensing Amber’s disquiet. “Then you can smoke in peace.”
“Jared, it is you who are the true gentleman.” Djones waved his monocle at them before once again putting it over his left eye.
****
At a sci-fi convention in Cardiff, Wales, a teenage girl flailed her arms so hard upon seeing one of her favorite actors signing autographs, with such delight, she took flight in a tizzy of joy. The human whirlwind was not seen again, but her happy shrieks set off car alarms for miles around.
****
Jared headed to the bedroom he’d claimed, exhausted after an emotionally turbulent day. All he wanted to do was sleep for nine hours and dream of anything other than his mother being alive again. At least nightmares don’t disappoint you when you wake up. Worn out as he was, he still noticed the dribbles of soil forming a trail down the basement steps. He wondered what weird thing was going to happen now.
He came upon a wooden girl with only one eye. She wore no clothing other than a rough-hewn dress carved onto her body. She chewed at a clod of dirt as she sat on the bed. “Hi,” he said, not sure what else he could say.
She wiped her mouth with the back of one hand. “Hi.”
“So, what is your name, rank, and serial number?”
“Come again?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t get that reference. What are you called then? ‘Pinnochia’?”
“I don’t really have a name. I call myself ‘Twig’. I’m almost three days old.”
“Oh. How’s that working out for you?”
“Sit. You’re making me nervous.” She gave the space on the covers next to her a friendly pat.
Jared shrugged and flopped down. “I assume you want something from me, Twig.”
“Passage to Summer’s castle, if you please. I’ve gone astray and my creator doesn’t even know I exist.”
Come to think of it, that was how Jared had always felt about his biological father. He felt a rush of sympathy and lightly patted her shoulder. She had adolescent proportions but was still less than two feet tall. “Lynne told me at some point that Summer can bring wood to life. I didn’t know consciousness was an option, too.”
Twig licked stray crumbles off her fingers. “I’m infused with a portion of her life-force. It’s confusing. I’m chock-full of her memories. It’s all fragmented, too much for my bitty skull. My headache gets worse with each hour.”
“You poor thing. It must be incredibly stressful.”
“I found you because I could feel your destiny intertwined with hers. Kira’s. I don’t know how yet, but I knew you could take me to her.”
“Sure, why not? The others’ll take it in stride as they do everything else. I’m even finding myself more and more relaxed about things like this. Mind if I sleep, though? I’m wiped.”
“I could use some myself. Is it okay if we share? I’m not anatomically correct or anything. I don’t even excrete.”
“How convenient.” Jared tunneled under the covers and pulled Twig into his arms. “I left my squishy dinosaur plush at home. Was ‘fraid Lynne would make fun. You’ll do, even if you’re not as soft.”
“Hmph. I’m not a toy.”
“None of us are, Twig.” He flicked off the light and fell asleep almost immediately.
****
To the current Lady Summer; Empress of High Noon; Queen of June, July, and August; Protector of Agriculture; Leader of the Grand Assembly:
It has come to the attention of various individuals skilled in the relevant arts that your ascension to the position of a Season, however justified, has placed the general population in grave danger. The continued and progressive permeation of portals between our dimension and Next Door is insupportable. With no offense meant, and no personal desire for your downfall, we entreat you to willingly relinquish the post.
If you will not step down for the greater good of humanity, Fae-kind, and non-sentient life, our combined forces will be forced to lay siege to your castle and choose your male successor for you. We very much do not wish for circumstances to come to such a desperate strait. Be aware that our army would be tens of thousands of soldiers strong.
You have three days before we march, and an additional five days before we will be at your door if no sign of a change is detected by then.
With great regret but the utmost sincerity, Sam Yakamura, Governor of the Temperate Zone, Esquire (Signature)
Queen Mab of Faerie (Signature)
The Unanimous Parliame
nt of the Joint Republics of Monsoon and Drought (Five pages of signatures)
Gwen thanked the messenger and paid him. She had to figure out a place to hide the message until the time was right. Politics and human nature were all equally delicate balances.
****
Alone in the attic he had chosen to sleep in, Rupert Eustace Djones wrapped his green dressing-gown tighter around him. It took several minutes to assemble his wireless telegraph/radio. He cursed a few times as a fiddly bit here and there refused to cooperate, but eventually had the device working smoothly. So few places here had cellular phone coverage as yet that he didn’t bother carrying a phone outside of Centralia and a few other locations. The landline situation was worse outside of very affluent city neighborhoods.
The device took power from a lodestone, imported from Faerie. It was essentially a portable battery that recharged on mouse blood. Djones sent two messages to the same receiver:
The first: H-I-T ― S-U-C-E-S-S ― T-R-A-N-S-F-E-R ― P-A-Y-M-E-N-T ― S-T-O-P ― D-J-O-N-E-S ― S-T-O-P.
The second: H-E-L-P - C-A-R-R-Y― O-U-T ― H-I-T ― W-I-T-H-I-N ― S-E-V-E-N-T-Y ― T-W-O ― H-O-U-R-S ― S-T-O-P ― D-J-O-N-E-S ― S-T-O-P.
He smiled and started to whistle Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It had been quite a good day. There was nothing like killing multiple birds with a single stone. He might even have a new friend or two when this was over, depending how much sentimentality had a grip on these excellent people and how much they saw reason. Along with profit. Mustn’t forget profit.
Fourteen
Summersong
Gwen rapped at Kira’s bedroom door. “Kira?”
“Go away.”
“Kira, you have visitors.”
“I’m not even within fifteen yards of being interested.”
“The Lady Spring and her associates are demanding entrance. She wants to confer with us about this whole situation. William Colt, Vincent of Winter’s official representative, is also here for the meeting.”
The door clicked open, revealing Kira in blue jeans and a sweat-streaked blue tank top that matched her eyes. Her blond hair hung ragged around her face. “Are we thinking about any kind of solution other than my dying?”
Seasons Turning (Timely Realms Book 1) Page 14