Haffling (The Haffling series)

by Caleb James

  “I know,” I said. “But I think there’s a chance she’s hanging out in one of the parks. I’m going to look for her.”

  “How good a chance?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Alex, I was willing to do this for today. But after going AWOL from the hospital. Do you have any adult who can step in?”

  “I’m working on it,” I told her, thinking of Sifu’s son, Thomas.

  “I could be in so much trouble here. I could lose my job over this, Alex. I feel bad for you guys. But I just can’t.”

  My gut twisted. “What are you saying?”

  “You’re sixteen, Alex, they’re not going to care if you stay in the apartment alone. Not for a while, anyway. Alice is eleven. They’re going to want her in an emergency shelter.”

  I saw the fear on Alice’s face as she overheard.

  “When?” I asked.

  “They’ll come by and pick her up when you come home. I have to do this, Alex. I’m so sorry.”

  I disconnected. Just like that, the number of adults I sort of trusted went from two to one.

  Alice’s lip trembled. “I can’t, Alex. Don’t let them take me. Please.”

  Jerod’s hand was still on my shoulder, it felt solid. “You can stay with us,” he said.

  “What’ll you tell your mom?”

  “She’ll barely notice. I’ll say your place is getting exterminated, and your mom wanted you to stay with friends.”

  “We could hide them,” Clay offered.

  Another voice: Nimby’s. “No, Alex.” Her tiny teeth chattered. “Don’t go back. No. No. No.”

  “I’ve got to find her,” I said. “And somehow drag her back.”

  “To the hospital or home?” Alice asked.

  “Don’t know. Home, at least there I can keep an eye on her.”

  “Okay,” Alice said, and she dug through the zip compartment of her backpack for her MetroCard.

  I turned to Jerod, regretting the loss of his touch. “Can she stay with you? At least for now?”

  “Alex, no,” Alice said. “I want to go with you.”

  “Me too,” Jerod said. “Let me help you find her.”

  My thoughts were back at the weeping mulberry. There was no way I’d bring Alice or anyone else. And what was that shit Nimby had said about whole creatures getting ripped apart? I still felt like myself… but maybe it was something that would creep up on me. No way in hell I’d risk that with Alice… or Jerod. And hallucination or not, there was something dangerous there, and it drew my crazy mother like a moth to the flame.

  “I’ll find her.” I looked at Jerod. Could I trust him? I barely knew him, and crush or no, I needed help. “Can you keep Alice safe?”

  “Of course. But let us go with you. Four can find your mom a lot easier than one. Fort Tyron is huge.” His voice was low, his tone serious. “Let me help you, Alex. Please.”

  I felt like screaming. I was scared and tired of not being able to tell anyone the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. But I knew that the second I did, beautiful Jerod, who turned my belly to mush, would run. Mom was right: I was filled with lies. Everything out of my mouth—whether out of necessity or not—was bull. Right then, my usual ability to string plausible fibs together had abandoned me. I pried my fingers from Alice’s. Gave her what I hoped was a firm look. “Stay with Jerod and Clay. If you need me, call.” Then to Jerod, “I’ll be back before dark.” Before they could react, I turned and ran.

  Thirteen

  I RACED from the 190th Street Station back to Fort Tyron, with no plan. The quicksand was thick beneath my feet. One second I’d get an idea, the next I’d see why it wouldn’t work. I felt desperate and frightened and furious at Mom. Ever since I’d managed to get our family reunited, trying to keep tabs on her had become increasingly impossible. Her running off with the fairies was just a sick new twist. To keep people out of our business, we needed to stay below the radar. Of all the things Mom could have done, getting pregnant was the worst.

  As I sprinted north, I thought about what Lorraine said. At sixteen they’d let me slide, and if I could keep them off our backs for a few more years, they’d let Alice slide too, but an infant… no way. Whether or not I found Mom and got her home or to the hospital, we would be dealing with OCFS for the foreseeable future.

  I pulled out my cell and went to the GPS app. Sure enough, Mom’s cell was still on and still here. At least that part of yesterday’s hallucination was real. I jogged down the footpath and from there to the dirt deer run that cut through the yew hedge, and from there….

  “No!” Nimby hadn’t let up since I’d left Alice, Jerod, and Clay. I’d tuned her out. But when we came to the clearing and the towering mulberry, she shrieked.

  I stopped. I studied the tree, with its heart-shaped leaves and twisted cascade of branches that swept the ground. Nimby’s wings beat fast as a hummingbird’s as she wailed, “Nooooo.”

  I turned, and she hovered in front of my face. When I was little, I liked having her around, didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. She was fun, and I just assumed everyone had little black fairies only they could see. In kindergarten and elementary school, people thought I had a run-of-the-mill imaginary friend. When I described her, they’d think it was cute that my imaginary friend was mostly naked, covered with gold tattoos, and coordinated her loincloth with whatever butterfly wings she’d appropriated. In third grade, that changed. My imaginary friend got me sent to the school psychologist. There, I spent long afternoons filling out tests and answering her questions. Did I hear other voices or just the one? Did it come from inside my head or outside? Could I see things other people didn’t see? Did I just see the fairy? I never knew what those reports said. I imagined they were still in my files. What I did realize was that other people did not have little black fairies, and I’d best shut up about mine.

  Now, I stared at her. Her fluttering slowed, her red eyes were fixed on mine. Tiny creases formed in her forehead. “No, Alex.”

  “Why not?”

  She shuddered. “No questions. Ask no questions.”

  “Crap.” I looked from her to the Mulberry. It had been no hallucination. The weird scoreboard, May’s delight every time Mom or I had asked a question. The pain in my scalp still real. “Okay. Tell me why I can’t ask questions.”

  “You can’t afford them.”

  “But I can ask you questions?”

  “We’re not in Fey. Here yes, there no.”

  “So what does May want?”

  “Everything,” Nimby said. “She wants everything.”

  “Not helpful. Be specific. Tell me what May wants from Mom.”

  “A child. A haffling… a bridge. Alice or you or the bun in the oven.”

  Her answer stopped me cold. “What?”

  “Nooooooo!” Nimby darted back, her eyes fixed on the tree.

  Something moved inside the mulberry. I smelled Mom’s patchouli and… donuts, just-baked donuts. My cell was in my hand, I was on top of the X for Mom’s phone. The mulberry’s branches rustled, and like a curtain being pulled back, a slender opening appeared.

  “Noooooo!” Nimby flew in frantic circles.

  I remembered what she’d said and why she didn’t follow me. I paused. “Mom’s crazy because… she crossed into Fey… only she’s not crazy there. So… why aren’t I changed? Or am I? Or…. Wait a minute. You just called me a haffling. What does that mean? What….”

  The smell of donuts was like a drug. It clouded my thoughts. I was thinking something important, about to make a connection. What was it? I stared into the opening. This was foolish… dangerous. I had no choice. I touched the branches. It was dark inside. But there was something light too—at an impossible distance for it to still be under the tree.

  Nimby’s screams grew fainter as I passed through the opening, and the branches closed behind me. And as I stepped from one world into another, the thought came: if humans and fey can’t cross without paying a he
avy price, and I could, the only explanation was that I was neither human nor fey—I was a bridge. I thought of Alice and our game of Sadly—haffling? Really? Today on Sadly, Alex is still gay, has never been kissed, has a crush on a straight boy, is going to get pulled into foster care, is probably going to lose limbs to a crazy fairy, and just learned that he might not be human.

  Fourteen

  LIKE a switch had been thrown, lights blinded me. I squinted as my pupils shrank, and I confronted the unimaginable. I’d braced myself for Cooking with May in her upscale fairy kitchen. But not for this—some kind of fair. People—okay, not exactly people—all around me. Lots of children… possibly elves. A family of green-skinned folk was headed toward me. The mother wheeled a three-seat stroller, with a trio of green heads looking in different directions. As they passed, the mother, who came to my waist, gazed up at me. I had the sense she found me as weird as I found her. Instinctively, I said, “They’re beautiful.”

  She shot me a dazzling smile with teeth as sharp as needles. “We’d hoped for a bigger litter.”

  “The more the merrier.”

  “So true.” And she and her clan crossed the dirt path to a merchant’s stall on the other side.

  I felt a question bubble to my lips… actually, a few dozen, and bit them back. They started with, Where the hell am I? To…. Taking a note from Sifu, I stood and let my senses explain the inexplicable. Just breathe, Alex.

  I started with the visuals. I was at a fair…. No, looking at the booths that lined both sides of the dirt road, a market. The stalls were tightly packed with a car, truck, or painted caravan behind the booths. The elf family had stopped in front of a jewelry merchant whose tables were covered with exquisite flowers arranged in the shades of a rainbow. Elf mom was holding an iris that was purple on top and green on the bottom.

  Elf dad, at least that’s who I thought he was, was negotiating for the flower. “Tell me the cost, and make it small.” He sounded angry.

  The pointy-eared merchant, who was twig thin, translucent green, and over seven feet, responded. “Tell me the price you wish to pay.” His long-limbed movements were fluid as he pointed at the iris being admired by elf mom.

  “I wish to pay nothing at all,” elf dad shot back.

  Elf mom kicked him viciously as she held the iris to the light.

  “It’s glass,” I said.

  “It’s perfect.” She flashed me a smile and glared at a towering female ogre, who was also eyeing the sparkling flower.

  “If wishes were cupcakes,” the merchant replied back to elf dad, “you’d be covered in icing. Make me a true offer, or have your wife step away.” He smiled at the eight-foot-tall ogress.

  “Just looking,” she said, her eyes fixed on the iris.

  “Of course.” The merchant bowed in her direction. “There is no cost for that.”

  Elf mom stamped her foot… on top of elf dad’s.

  He winced. “Tell me the going cost, and not a penny more.” He glared at the merchant.

  “One dollar.”

  “Impossible!” Elf dad’s face grew dark. “Thief! Scoundrel!”

  “One dollar,” the merchant repeated. “You will find no other like it. It is rare, and it is mine. It could be yours for one hundred cents, or ten slender dimes.”

  Elf dad turned to his wife. “I don’t have a dollar, dear. Not for this.”

  She nodded, stared at the herd of children that surrounded them, and kicked him. “It is precious,” she shrieked. “It should be mine. I’m with Cheapskate, who says I’m not worth ten dimes.”

  The babes in the stroller started to bawl like cats being tortured. I dug into my pocket. A dollar seemed ridiculously cheap. I fished out change and pieced together three quarters, two dimes, and a nickel. Keeping any question from my voice, I stated, “It costs a dollar.”

  The merchant’s gaze shifted from the scene of domestic abuse to me. “It’s true that is the cost. You will find no other.”

  Elf mom’s dangerously pointed slipper stopped midkick. She looked at me, her eyes a muddy red. I handed my change to the merchant, wondering as I did if this wasn’t a huge mistake. What is the road to hell paved with, Alex? I thought as I handed over the change.

  I told elf mom, “It’s yours.”

  Her mouth gaped. “I can’t take a flower from a strange man. I’m not that kind of woman…. And in front of the children!”

  Elf dad turned toward me, he shook his head. “This is wrong.” He glared at me. “Men who throw flowers at women they don’t own…. We will fight till the ground is drenched with your blood.”

  Oh crap! “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.” My words were drowned by the screaming of the babies.

  The elf child, whose hand he’d just released, clapped. He was joined by his siblings and a gathering crowd of elves, trolls, things that were part human, and a few of the graceful silver-haired people.

  I backed away, thinking the best option was to run. But a tight circle had formed around us. Elf dad shed his tunic. His khaki-green torso was corded with muscle and covered with dark fur. His fingers ended in sharp black nails that curved like a bird’s talons. He toed off his shoes, revealing six-toed feet that gripped the dirt like a second pair of hands.

  On my end, I had height and reach, but one well-placed kick from those toes and I’d lose a hamstring or a knee. “I meant no harm. I meant no disrespect.”

  “Human,” he scoffed. “Words cost nothing. Words are cheap. The mother of my babes is not!” He leapt like a cat, launching himself toward my face.

  I pivoted back and away, observing his graceful movements as he tucked into a somersault and landed. So much for the height advantage. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He grinned. “A tall bag of meat like you doesn’t need to worry… about that.” He attacked again, but this time low, his feet and hands like a crab’s on the packed dirt. He was fast, and I barely managed to feint back and avoid a disabling swipe to my ankles. His hand ripped the air where my leg had been and landed in the dirt. His fingers tore deep grooves in the hard earth.

  The crowd chanted, “Blood, blood, blood.”

  His back was to me; I knew what needed to be done. I spun fast and low. I shot the blade of my right foot into the side of his knee. His head whipped around on impact. He grinned, and as my foot should have connected, tearing the ligaments of his knee apart, his body shot ten feet away. I had no time to respond; he curled up tight, inhaled three big breaths, and seemed to inflate. Then, like a bowling ball, he barreled toward me, the talons on his hands and feet sticking out, ready to slash and rip.

  “Blood, blood, blood.” And from where his family stood. “Kill, kill, kill.”

  I darted to the right. He adjusted his trajectory. He was closing fast, a rolling green juggernaut filled with the kind of energy Sifu loved in an opponent—forward momentum. I stepped in front of the barreling elf. In less than a second he was on me, and as collision seemed imminent, I twisted back and to the right. Keeping my eye on the ball… er, elf, I kicked hard. I’d hoped that using his momentum would do some injury, maybe slow him down, or rattle him to where I could apologize for buying the damn flower.

  What I’d not expected was to launch him like a helium-filled balloon into the air. I’d judged his weight wrong, his bones or something had to be hollow… or else the laws of physics were on holiday. The force of the impact reverberated through my body as I watched the angry elf shoot up into the sky.

  “Holy….” My mind sought an explanation—he shouldn’t be flying that high or far. Where was friction and shear stress… and good old gravity? The crowd watched his flight, a few pointed to the sky. Coins passed between members of the audience.

  I looked at elf mom and her brood. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I had no choice.”

  She shrugged and pinned the glass iris to the yellow scarf around her neck. “He bounces,” she offered. “And don’t you tell him this….” She winked. “It feels good to have a stran
ge man give me a flower. Makes me tingly.… Children, let’s go find your father.” She muttered as she left, “I used to get flowers all the time, now I just get children.”

  “And you love us,” a little elf girl replied.

  “Of course. Let’s find your father and tell him how brave he was in battling the hideous monster.”

  “Daddy’s going to be mad.” The elf girl clutched her mother’s skirt and stuck out her tongue at me. It was green and forked like a snake’s.

  “Yes,” elf mom replied. “Maybe next time he’ll think before denying my desire.”

  The crowd parted and drifted off. I looked to where I’d kicked the elf. Would he come back? I was glad he bounced but hoped he’d be damaged enough to stay away. Judging by his wife’s response and the dissipating onlookers, that seemed a good bet, but still…. I needed to focus, and whether it was adrenaline from the fight or the smells—where are those donuts?—my head was fuzzy. Alex, you have got to pull it together. No more buying flowers or giving unsolicited gifts. On the other hand, it was good to know elves had bones like birds and weighed next to nothing.

  I scanned the sprawling market, catching glances from elves with skin shaded from khaki to bright kelly. There were taller versions, with more delicately formed faces, possibly sprites or sylphs in sparkly outfits. Then families and couples of winged pixies about twice the size of Nimby, and here and there graceful human-sized men and women with hair the color of corn silk or silver. The merchants, at least the ones in the packed stalls, were tall. Some skinnier than me, and others heavyset ogres—possibly trolls—with overhung brows and Frankenstein jaws. As a biology geek, I wondered how many different species were here. If this were the Museum of Natural History, how would they be related?

  A pair of hedgehogs stood in front of a booth that sold cell phones—hundreds of them. I approached, reminding myself to say nothing. The merchant loomed over his horseshoe-shaped tables.

  “Fascinating devices,” he growled. “This one, a classic,” he said, picking up a shoe-sized flip phone from the nineties. “It starts big and better and then gets small and smart.”