by Caleb James
“It is unique,” she said. “Part whining, part complaining… and something else.”
“It’s the obligatory eye roll,” he said. “I’m Jacob, by the way. Jacob Katz.”
“Marilyn Nevus. That’s my son Alex, and—” She shot me a wicked grin. “—his boyfriend Jerod.”
“Mom!” I felt the color rush to my face.
“Definitely the eye roll.” Jacob Katz smiled at me. Then looked at Mom. “Maybe something in the jaw too. Could I give you my card?”
“What for?” she asked.
I was stunned. She was flirting. But now she seemed confused.
“Maybe I could take you out for coffee… although… I didn’t see a ring on your finger either. Have I just made an awful mistake… are you with someone?” His words were fast and flustered.
“Just my children—I’ve got two. Coffee sounds good, Jacob Katz.” She took his card and tucked it into her pocketbook.
Jerod had gone ahead and was waiting by the elevators. “Mom,” I said, “we’ve got to go.”
“It was nice to meet you. Call me if you feel like,” he said. “Nice to meet you too, Alex.”
Great, fine, whatever.… My cheeks were burning. She did that deliberately… embarrassed the hell out of me in front of a stranger. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the elevators.
She laughed… not at all like real Mom, but easy and light. “Got to go.”
I glanced back. He was watching us. He seemed like an okay guy, but I wondered what would happen if he knew the woman he’d been flirting with didn’t exist before this afternoon.
“What a nice man,” she said.
Jerod was holding the elevator.
“I should call him.”
“Not now,” I said, wondering what sort of catastrophe that would lead to.
“I should wait,” she said. “That’s what you’re saying.”
“Yes.” I watched the numbers light overhead.
We got out on six and followed the signs and the people to a crowded room with rows of folding chairs and a speaker’s podium with a microphone in front of a bank of windows.
“We should get started,” a dark-haired woman with a library ID around her neck announced from the podium.
It was standing room only. We found a bit of wall space toward the back. There wasn’t much, and the three of us pressed together, me in the middle, Mom on my right, and Jerod on my left. His arm pressed against mine, our legs touching.
I glanced around. The audience was comprised of mostly women. Jerod and I were the youngest in the room. I listened as the lady at the podium ran through Katherine Summer’s writing credits.
“We all love being in love with Katherine Summer,” she gushed. “From her contemporary romances to her New York Times best-selling Three Sisters series to… so many wonderful books. All of which I’m proud to say are in our permanent collection, and many in large print, audio, and electronic editions as well. Without more of my prattle, I am honored to present… Katherine Summer.”
A couple things surprised me. First, no mention of May, Queen of the Fey—which according to Jerod had been a best seller. Was this the right person? And the second odd thing—Katherine Summer.
The announcer walked to the front row and offered her hand to a tiny woman with a snow-white bun fastened at the back with a pink crystal butterfly barrette. The old woman waved her away as she gripped her walker. On her right sat a much younger man with wavy dark hair in a Prussian-blue shirt. I couldn’t see his face. He steadied the old lady’s walker with one hand, and with the other guided her up. She glanced at him, shook her head, and smiled. Then, with careful movements, she eased up and hobbled on high heels embellished with pink rhinestones toward a wooden armchair next to the podium.
The three hundred or so attendees were silent as the tiny woman, who had to be in her eighties or nineties and clearly had a thing for pink, made it to her seat. Her getup was bizarre and way too young. A pink miniskirt, pink fishnets over matchstick legs, and dangerously high stilettos. Her top was a lacy camisole that revealed withered cleavage and arms with a banner crop of liver spots. She gazed over the audience as the announcer clipped a microphone to a gauzy scarf she’d draped across her shoulders.
A half smile formed on her crinkled lips. Her hands gripped the armrests. “Love is magic. The only magic left in this world,” she whispered. “As a romance novelist, it’s my job to capture that—lightning in a bottle.” Her voice was younger than her body and had an Irish lilt.
Even from the back, I could see the intensity in her water-blue eyes as she spoke of love. My thoughts were fixed on Jerod and our tightly pressed bodies. My breath caught; she was staring at me. The room was dark, and it seemed unlikely she could see us in the shadows.
“Unlike anything else,” she said, her eyes fixed on mine, “love transforms. It makes us better if we let it.” She winked.
What the hell was that?
“It can also destroy.” She sighed and broke eye contact. Her hand fluttered up. “But what a way to go.”
The crowd tittered.
I felt Jerod’s arm against mine, our hips touching. Nimby was on his shoulder, watching the speaker. “Is she Katye?” I whispered.
Nimby’s gaze was fixed on the speaker. “She is fey. Or was…. She is broken.”
Jerod turned to look at Nimby, and then our eyes met. I couldn’t breathe. “Broken how?” he asked, not taking his gaze off mine.
A woman in the last row turned angrily. “Ssh!”
He looked at Nimby. “Is she Katye?” he asked.
“Yes.”
I stared at the withered woman. Her eyes were bright as she regaled the audience with how she came up with her latest story. Then she was taking questions, and I hadn’t realized, but my hand was in the air.
“Yes,” she said. “The handsome and very tall young man in the back. You have a question.”
“How come you never wrote the sequel to May, Queen of the Fey?” I asked. I heard gasps, and heads turned.
Katherine Summer stiffened. “Young man,” she said. “You have the impulsivity of your age.… It’s best not to speak of that book.”
“It was a best seller. It won awards,” I shot back.
“Enough,” she said. “I’m here to discuss romance. There will be no further questions.”
The librarian who’d made the announcements was by Ms. Summer’s side. She was joined by the young man in the blue shirt. Who, when he turned—he was like something out of GQ or Italian Vogue—with long black hair that curled like mine, caramel skin, and green eyes.
Hands waved in the audience. A woman called out, “Ms. Summer… Katherine, will you still be signing books?”
The ancient authoress was on her feet and gripping her walker. The young man had a hand by her right elbow. “I’m tired,” she said. “Not today… thank you all for coming.”
A woman in a red hat turned angrily. “Why did you have to do that? I wanted her to sign my Hungry Heart.”
“Sorry,” I said, hoping she was referring to a book title. My anxiety spiked as I watched the old woman inch toward the door.
Nimby tugged on my ear. “Lying fey,” she said.
“Huh?” I stepped into the aisle as several others in the audience called to the retreating author for signatures. She ignored them as she neared the door. Jerod and make-believe Mom were at my sides. “What makes you say she lies?” I asked Nimby.
“She’s not tired. She said that to give an excuse.”
“We have to talk to her,” Jerod said.
“I know,” I said, trying to figure out why my question had kicked off her retreat. Clearly, a book as popular as May, Queen of the Fey would have people asking questions. “Why is she leaving?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
The disgruntled attendees were picking up their bags, some still calling out to Katherine Summer as she turned down the hall. Keeping to the wall, we trailed her. We weren’t alone; other
audience members were at her side, holding books and pens, begging for signatures.
Her handsome companion waved them away. “Sorry.” His voice was firm. “She’s too tired.”
One glared at me as she passed. “Stupid boy.”
The dark-haired man looked at me. I could not read his expression.
“He kind of looks like you,” Jerod said.
“Yeah, right.”
“He does. You in ten years.”
Clearly Jerod was delusional, but if he thought I was in the same league as this guy, I wasn’t going to argue. We followed Katherine’s slow progress. I expected them to turn right toward the elevators. Instead they took a left.
We followed.
She took another left, and was halfway down the hall when she stopped. Her right hand tapped her companion’s arm. He looked at her and then back at us. He nodded, left her side, and tried the handle on a door next to where they stood. It opened.
Slowly, moving her walker in tiny steps, she faced us. Her bright-blue eyes squinted. She shook her head.
“Why did you…,” I started to ask.
“Ssh!” She made a jerking motion with her head. “You don’t want them to hear you, boy. Now leave me alone.”
“No… Cedric told me to find you.”
“Go away. I don’t know any Cedric.”
Nimby shouted… which was more like a squeak, “She’s lying! Lying fey!”
The old woman’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “What was that? Who said that?”
“A fairy,” I said, noting the white film across her eyes. She was practically blind with cataracts.
“No such thing, boy. It’s a children’s story. Make-believe.”
“Lies, lies, lies.” Nimby shrieked and twirled in angry circles on my shoulder.
She stared intently at the space above my right shoulder. “No. Leave me alone…. I’m old, and I’m tired.”
“We have to talk,” I repeated. Cataracts or no, I knew she could see Nimby. This was no ordinary woman.
She started to turn. Her broad-shouldered companion said nothing. He stood in front of an open door, looking at her and then back at us.
Katherine Summer repeated, “Go away.”
“No. Cedric told me to find you.”
She looked at her companion and shook her head. He bent down, and she whispered into his ear. She redirected her walker from the hall to the open door. “Then come along… and bring your Nevus fairy…. I’ve not seen one of those in… centuries. And black, to boot. My, my.”
“What the hell is a Nevus fairy?” Jerod whispered.
Apparently, Katherine Summer had damn fine hearing for someone who was.… Did she just say centuries?
“She’s been with you since birth.” Her gaze fixed on me.
“Yes.”
“Tell me what your name means, young Master Nevus.”
Her directives made me think of May.… Warning flares went off in my head. “It means birthmark.”
“Yes,” she said, and her walker made tiny steps toward her companion, who stood by the open door. “Marked at birth, you were. The Nevus clan… still beautiful, one is black and one is blond. And the third—they come in threes—is the ginger child, hair of fire and skin like milk.”
Her words sent a shiver. We followed. At the door, her companion seemed to be studying me.
I felt his hostility and braced for the worst. He was protecting her, but something more. His jaw twitched, and his fists balled at his sides.
“It’s all right, Lance.”
Like a slow parade, we followed Katherine Summer into a tiny librarian’s office. There was a desk covered with papers, a row of filing cabinets, a wall of cluttered shelving, and two chairs in front of a table that were lost beneath an avalanche of books.
She inched her walker to a battered armchair, positioned herself, gripped first one side of the chair, then the other, and lowered down. All the while, her companion stood stiff as a soldier, his eyes fixed on her.
The way he stared at her…. Adoration… love.
“So,” she said, looking at me. “You would ask me questions.” She chuckled in a young woman’s voice. Weird to hear it coming from a face like a dried apple doll. I had a sick pit in my stomach—this was not someone to trust.
“I would,” I said… not really knowing where to start, but more than that. Be careful. “Cedric told us you’d help.”
She grunted. Lance was at her back, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “I doubt that very much. Be precise, young Alex Nevus.”
“You’re right,” I said. “He told us to find you.”
“That rings true. He told you why?”
“No.” I noticed how she had no trouble asking questions… or according to Nimby, telling lies.
“Cedric plays dangerous games. Still, you have been to a place and seen things I would know of. We might trade.” Her head cocked to the side. “Your fairy is a puzzle… she shouldn’t be here… and she is. Quite a rare thing… a black Nevus fairy. Can’t recall the last….” She sighed. “She might be the last. Let me think… yes, sister May, how does she do?”
“Hungry,” I said, offering the first word that came to mind.
Katherine Summer laughed. Her face was a mesh of wrinkles. “Well chosen, boy. And mad as a barking dog?”
“You bet,” I replied. Counting that as her third question.
Her gaze narrowed. “I will answer the first question you asked. I did not write the sequel because it has not been.”
“It hasn’t happened,” I stated. “That’s what you’re saying.” Again, keeping the end of my sentences down. It seemed clear that while the rules had shifted, questions still cost.
“Perhaps.”
“I get another two.”
“Choose well.” Her hand reached back and found Lance’s. Their fingers interlaced. A dreamy smile spread across his perfect face… and I realized he had to be older than I’d first thought. There were tiny lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. I revised my estimate from twenties to late thirties… and gray around his temples… that hadn’t been there before.
“What are you doing to him?” Damn… not the question I’d wanted. But I couldn’t pull my eyes off of them. Gray spread through his long curls. Wrinkles creased his forehead and cheeks.
Katherine Summer inhaled and let go of his hand. “I’m showing you truth, Alex Nevus.” Her face was no longer that of a nonagenarian.… Maybe a woman in her fifties. She turned back and stroked the side of Lance’s face. As she did, his hair regained its luster, and like shaking out the wrinkles on a sheet, his face was young and unlined.
Jerod gasped.
I looked at him and at Nimby perched on his shoulder. Then I looked at Mom… who wasn’t really Mom. Something clicked. Almost like a law of physics, where every action has an opposite reaction, a body at rest tends to stay at rest, a body in motion tends to stay in motion….
“It’s balance,” Jerod said, beating me to the punch. “She’s talking about balance.”
“You’re right,” I said, turning back to the wrinkled woman in pink and her perfect… lover? Food source? “I have my next question.… What is Lance to you?”
“Interesting choice,” she said. “He is everything.” She looked at Jerod and back to me. There was intensity to her words. “He is everything.”
It felt like I was swimming in Jell-O.
The old woman smiled. “So May is hungry and mad. Nothing new there. I would know what she’s doing.”
“Ask me your question, then,” I said, knowing I was out and wondering if I could entice her into more.
“You are sweet…. I’m surprised she let you go.” She glanced up at Lance and then at me. She took a sharp intake of breath. “But of course…. I should have seen it sooner.”
“What?” I clamped a hand over my mouth.
“Goody!” she said with delight. “Another for me. You and Lance are cut from the same bolt. It’s obvious.”
<
br /> “Told you,” Jerod said.
I bit back the obvious question—“Same bolt”? I looked at Jerod.
“It means something,” he said. “Don’t ask me what.”
“My turn,” Katherine said. “What are my sister’s plans?”
“Game shows,” I said. “Although some are more like reality shows.… Cooking shows, a weird fairy redo of Bargain Hunt.”
“Interesting….”
“I need another question,” I said.
“Then ask.… I could use another as well.”
I watched her. There were so many questions. “What does your sister May want from Alice and I?”
“Yes, that is a good one. May wants everything. She always has. She wants to rule the human world as well as what remains of Fey. Quite simply, my handsome young haffling, she needs a vessel to travel between worlds. A creature that is neither human nor fey, but both. It is horrible and spectacular. This world is not prepared for a creature of such magic. For as you’ve seen, my sister is mad. I cannot imagine the chaos… the death.”
I felt sick. “I want another.”
“I am waiting for it, Alex Nevus, but it is the last I will answer.”
It was like a weird game of Hansel and Gretel.… If I could follow the crumbs she was dropping, maybe they’d lead me to someplace that made sense. Her answers were clues: love, balance, her crazy sister who wanted to rule the worlds. I looked at make-believe Mom, more evidence of the fairy laws of physics. If real Mom was under the mulberry tree, I got to take a fake one home. It was like those stupid bowls next to cash registers—take a penny, leave a penny. But more…. I looked at Jerod and Nimby. Katherine was surprised to see Nimby… and that sort of made sense, she did not belong in this world… and yet, here she was. Katherine Summer did not belong here… and here she was. Bits and pieces of the fey world had spilled into the human world, or been left behind, or.… And if that were true, and balance was so important….
“I have a question,” Jerod said. His eyes met mine.
I nodded. “Do it.”
“Why do you hate your sister?”
Twenty-One
KATHERINE SUMMER gasped.
I stared at Jerod. “Awesome question.” I watched the old woman in pink.