by Tom Deitz
“Sorry.” A crooked smile lit Alec’s face as he rose.
It required but one step into the tiny room for David to meet him halfway. “Me too,” he whispered—and enfolded his roommate with a hearty hug.
“See why I hate that thing now?” Alec choked into David’s shoulder. “Goddamn rock’s got us so wired we can’t even talk to each other.”
“Love you, man,” David replied simply. “There’s just some heavy stuff goin’ on I gotta work out solo.”
“Download to me when you’re done, okay?”
“Promise,” David agreed—because it would lessen Alec’s pain, and he had to do something to stop all this hurting. His Faery allies had proven unreliable. He dared not risk his best friend. And he would tell the truth—when he could.
Alec pushed him away, but not roughly.
David mussed his hair. “You okay?”
“I’ll live,” Alec conceded, nodding toward the front window, beyond which an avenue of pines paralleled Jefferson River Road. “’Sides, one of the devils just drove up.”
David barely had time to wipe his eyes on the hem of his black T-shirt before the first knock sounded. “Just a sec,” he called, while Alec bolted for the john. Three steps brought him to the front door. A pause for breath, and he opened it. “Hi, Liz!” He tried very hard to look casual.
An eyebrow lifted knowingly above green eyes as his girlfriend slipped inside. A thrift store carpetbag weighted one slender arm, complicating the obligatory hug. He settled for a misaimed kiss. The westering sun, beaming down the hall from the living room, turned Liz’s cap of feathery hair to copper flame and cast her pointy features into molten gold. “Fox goddess?” David mused aloud, nodding toward the mirror opposite the door. “Or…who was that jackal-headed gal? You know, the Egyptian?”
“Huh?” But then Liz found her reflection. “Oh, okay… Good thing I know how you think.”
“I like foxes!”
“I know.”
“’Specially vixens.”
“Good for you.”
“What’re female jackals called, I wonder?”
“Ma’am,” Liz informed him promptly. “The Egyptian’s a guy, by the way.”
“But could he play blues on a chain saw?”
Liz bared her teeth. “Your bedroom doing anything useful?”
“Accumulating dust atop mountains of clutter, moving slowly toward entropy, and”—David wrinkled his nose—“yep, Alec’s socks are startin’ to turn.”
Liz sniffed in turn. “Your sneakers, more likely. I know what a neatnik the A-Boy is.”
David finally managed to shift his attention from her face. She was wearing a black scoop-necked top like a leotard, an embroidered Guatemalan vest, and cutoffs over scarlet tights. “So, what’s in the bag, wench?” he wondered.
“The reason I asked about your bedroom.”
“Go for it.”
Liz paused to give him a more satisfactory smooch, then pranced through the door across from the study and shut it. Not for the first time did David question the decision made when he and Alec had moved into the tiny house two months back, to share one bedroom and use the other for schoolwork, hobbies, etc.; so that both would command equal space. Trouble was, he had more stuff, but Alec had more clothes—which didn’t cook with the closets. Still, for those times Liz slept over, there was always the foldout couch in the living room.
Alec reemerged just then, caught him staring into space, and waved a hand in front of his eyes. “You cool?”
“Have to be,” David murmured. “Consider the alternative.”
Alec pinched his butt.
“Go to the living room and sit facing the hall,” Liz called through the flimsy door. “Now!”
David exchanged bemused shrugs with his roomie and complied, pausing only to snare a Dr Pepper from the kitchen.
“You set?” Liz yelled a few minutes later.
“Sitting, technically,” Alec gave back, from the sofa. “But yeah.”
“Close your eyes, and don’t open ’em until I say.”
David did, clamping a hand over Alec’s as well, just to be sure. Alec elbowed him in the ribs. David pinched his nostrils shut.
“Ready!” David hollered.
Footsteps approached, more high-heel staccato than sneaker slap. “Okay!” Liz snickered from the near end of the hall. “Anytime!”
David slitted one eye open—then stretched both very wide indeed. “Whoa!” he yipped approvingly. “Eep!” Alec echoed.
Liz was totally transformed. She’d always been cute in a pixie sort of way, and had matured into a genuinely attractive woman who appealed to David even more because she didn’t need makeup to look good, and had brows and lashes dark enough to show—which wasn’t a given with redheads. She’d always had a great, if funky, sense of style. Now, however… Well, he suddenly found himself gawking at a petitely seductive figure that bore scant resemblance to his sweetie.
Black. That was his first impression. Black tank top (not the leotard) that left arms and an enticing arc of upper bosom bare; skintight black leather pants; calf-high black boots with mid-rise heels; hand-wide black belt set with a double row of silver dog-collar studs; black wig artfully teased into irregular curves and spikes.
But that could’ve been any townie girl (or boy, for that matter) out to show the world how weird they were. What narrowed the costume to specificity were the details: white powder hastily applied to arms, throat, and face; lips, brows, and lashes redrawn in stark red and black. And the clinchers: a four-inch silver and gray-cloisonné ankh depending from a silver chain to gleam between perky little breasts, and a delicately drawn spiral unwinding from the corner of one eye onto her cheek.
“Death,” Alec gulped into the breathless silence. “You look like Death!”
“Exactly!” David cried, through a widening grin.
“Think this’ll do for the 40 Watt’s Halloween bash?” Liz giggled. “The theme is comics and cartoons.”
“It will very definitely do,” David assured her. “’Cept that I’m not sure anybody’ll recognize you unless they read Sandman. ’Course I won’t be able to match it…”
“Wanta bet?” Liz countered wickedly.
“Gimme a hint?”
“Trust me.”
“Not after that!”
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it!”
“The makeup’s a quickie, but I couldn’t wait.”
“You’re not, by any chance, thinkin’ of doing me as Dream, are you?” David inquired slyly. “So we’d be a set?”
A brow lifted once again. “Dream’s tall and thin.”
“—Like ol’ Alec here?” David cuffed his roommate—and got punched back for his pains.
“Perhaps,” Liz answered coyly. “I—” She paused, head tilted. Listening. David caught it too. So, by his sudden tensing, did Alec.
A faint scratching at the door.
“Aikin,” David sighed. “Didn’t hear him drive up.”
“Probably parked up by the road,” Alec opined. “He does that when he wants to be ’specially sneaky.” More scratching.
“It’s open!” David hollered.
No dark-haired forestry major stealthed in. The scratching intensified.
“Cat?” Alec suggested, rising.
“Could be,” David acknowledged. “There’s been one hangin’ around.”
Alec sniffed derisively and padded down the hall. The door squeaked when he opened it. “Oh hell!”
“What…?”
“Uh…Dave,” Alec urged through clenched teeth, “you better get your butt up here.”
David grimaced sourly, but rose. “What—?” He peered around the door. “Holy shit!”
“What is it,” Liz called from the living room.
“Your guess,” David replied, as he stared at the fox-sized creature calmly grooming itself on the porch. “But unless I’ve gone brain-dead, I’d say it’s an…enfield.”
“What?” Liz joined them before he could explain. It was an enfield, too: no other beast had the body of a fox and the talons of an eagle in lieu of front paws. It was also a creature from Faerie.
David felt a delicate chill of mixed alarm and wonder thrill up his spine as he eased closer. His hand rattled the screen. The enfield peered up at him, dark eyes bright and wary, but not alarmed. Intelligence showed there, too, of a kind—like the Faery deer had displayed up on the mountain. Enfields were fairly bright, David knew: smarter than dogs, less than monkeys, and more sweet-tempered than either foxes or raptors—unless you pissed one off, in which case you’d better hope things were cool with your next of kin, ’cause eagle talons driven by canine muscle were mondo worse than plain old fox jambs.
The enfield sat back on its haunches, looking very heraldic, and licked a foreleg at the juncture of fur and feathers. It sniffed the air, then whistled.
“Polite little sucker,” Alec whispered.
“And absolutely fearless,” from Liz.
David pushed the screen open enough to squeeze through. The enfield regarded him expectantly as he eased into a crouch. “Hey…boy?” he crooned, “Oops, no! Sorry! Hey little lady, what ’cha doin’ here? Long way from home, aren’t ’cha?”
He was no more than a yard from it now, and caught its odor: cinnamon more than musk. It whistle-trilled: a soothing sound like a cat purring in a drafty house. Slowly, he extended his knuckles toward its black-pointed muzzle.
“You came to the right place, kid,” he murmured. “Anybody else ’round here would’ve run, screamed, or shot you.”
The enfield rose, stretched like a cat, and stepped daintily forward. It nosed his knuckles curiously, then licked them—and sauntered past him toward the door a dazed-faced Alec still held open.
Alec didn’t move, though whether from wonder, fear, or conditioned politeness that said one did not slam a door in a visitor’s face—even a four-legged drop-by from the dreaded Faerie—was unclear. And with the way unimpeded, the creature slipped past him into the house. By the time David recovered enough to follow, it had curled up on the sofa. He knelt on the floor beside it, careful lest it be disturbed. Liz joined him.
Alec claimed an armchair opposite. The enfield promptly raised its head, leapt off the couch, and pranced across the carpet to drape itself across his feet, chin propped contentedly upon one sneakered toe. “Likes you,” David smirked. He resisted the urge to pet it.
Alec rolled his eyes. “Great!” he grunted. “Just peachy.”
“Pretty little critter,” Liz noted.
“Yeah,” Alec sighed. “But…what the hell’s it doing here?”
“Adoring your feet, apparently. Must like the smell of Doctor Scholl’s.”
“Seriously.”
David exhaled wearily “Yeah, well, that’s kinda the question, isn’t it? I mean, it’s neat as hell to have a critter like this park in your living room. On the other hand, the implications are scary as shit.”
“No joke?” Alec snorted. “Golly!”
“Okay,” David began pointedly, “let’s look at this logically. First of all, this thing’s from Faerie: we all know that. Second, critters from there don’t come here of their own free will; but since this one is here, we can only assume it got here by accident.”
“Not necessarily,” Liz countered. “Somebody could’ve brought it deliberately, or it could’ve come with someone but not by their choice.”
“Yeah,” David admitted. “You’re right. I just don’t like to think about things like that.”
“The borders are sealed,” Alec reminded them.
“Closed,” David corrected. “Sealed means you can’t pass through ’em; Lugh’s gotta physically link himself to the land to do that, and it hurts like hell. Closed means he’ll kick ass if he finds you there. He’s supposed to have closed them after the war between him and Erenn. The Powersmiths told him to or they’d kick his ass.”
“So Alec’s little buddy came solo?”
A shrug. “Anyone here by Lugh’s leave is bound to have sense enough not to bring something so obviously alien. Anyone else would have more on his mind than ornamental critters.”
“Therefore…”
“Therefore, it probably came of its own will. And if that’s the case, it could only have come by the Tracks—or straight through the World Walls. Normally, I’d go with the former, in spite of the fact that critters can’t usually activate ’em. Only, they can, sometimes, when they’re charged up with adrenaline—like Ailill was that time he was changed into a deer—”
“And you guys saw a Faery deer just last Saturday!” Liz exclaimed.
“—That almost had to have come through the World Walls,” David finished. “Right. There’s no Track near there, and the way it just sorta was and was gone again makes that the obvious choice.”
“Not good,” Alec muttered. “Not good at all.”
“Not if it means something’s up with the World Walls,” David agreed. “Makin’ ’em grow thin in places, and all. Only, I can’t think of any reason that’d be happening that didn’t already exist. I mean, iron or steel in this World can burn through in time, if they’re in big enough hunks. But it takes forever in most places—longer than it takes the metal to turn to rust and blow away—unless there’s already a weak place in the World Walls. Or unless the iron lies very near a Track for a long time—like happens up by my folks’ place.
“Therefore, something else is messing up the World Walls.”
“Or something entirely different’s goin’ on we haven’t thought of.”
“So, what do we do?” Alec wondered. And finally gave in to the obvious temptation to scratch the enfield between the ears. Its eyes closed blissfully. It chirped.
“About what?”
“The critter, first off. I mean, we can’t exactly walk up to the World Walls and start laying plaster across the holes.”
“Interesting idea, though,” David chuckled. “Make a good painting for Myra. But seriously…I don’t see any choice but to hang on to the little sucker. She seems well behaved, and we know what she is. But if we turn her out, God knows what’ll happen. I mean, the last thing the folks in Faerie need is humans gettin’ concrete proof the place exists—which we have.”
Alec froze in mid-caress. “We keep it?”
Another shrug. “I’m open to suggestions. But for the time being…yeah. Maybe we can contact somebody in Faerie and ask them what to do.”
Alec scowled. “And how do you propose to do this? As if I didn’t know!”
“Sorry!” David grumbled. “Like I said, I’m open to suggestions.”
Alec puffed his cheeks. “Well,” he began, “presumably Ms. Field here’s still in the substance of Faerie—we could find out with some iron, I guess justa touch, Liz! And if she is, then Faerie’ll start drawing on her sooner or later—it always does. And when that happens…she oughta find her way back by instinct.”
David scratched his chin. “So you’re sayin’ we wait until she starts gettin’ antsy, then—”
“Hightail it to the nearest Track and hope she gets on.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Who knows?”
“I— Oh, crap!”
Alec looked startled. “What?”
David grimaced irritably. “I think that really is Aikin. Scratching at the door, I mean.”
“Christ,” Liz cried. “We’ve gotta hide the evidence!”
“Where?” Alec whispered, gazing frantically around the room.
David leapt to his feet. “Anywhere—but do it fast. You know Aik: we don’t answer, he’ll try the back.” He eyed the door to the rear stoop ominously, then the archway into the kitchen—which was a dead end. The hall was obviously out—which left the bedroom, since the study had no door. If Aikin didn’t simply barge in.
More scratching.
“Bedroom!” David hissed. “Now! I’ll stall.”
—At which point the front do
or swung open and a familiar figure eased in. Alec bolted for the back, which was still out of Aikin’s sight line, but the enfield dug in with both talons and would not let go—not so much from maliciousness, it seemed, as a simple desire to stay with him. “Ouch! Fuck! Get the hell off me…beast!” he yipped, fairly dancing a jig as the enfield hung on for dear life.
Aikin was there in an instant. “I’m not on you—yet,” he drawled. And then saw what clutched Alec’s leg—and what it did for forepaws. “Ohshitwow!” he blurted in a rush. “What’s that?”
“Enfield,” David choked resignedly.
Aikin shook his head. “Too lively for a gun.”
“The gun was named for the critter!”
Aikin was on his knees by then, happily engaged in trying to disengage the enfield from Alec’s jeans, which were already in tatters below one knee. Fortunately, he had a true empathy with wildlife, and though he had no qualms about killing animals for sport (and using as much of what he bagged as possible), he also genuinely liked them. Thus, he was competently gentle as he clutched the enfield with his right hand and carefully freed first one talon, then the other with the left, pausing as he did to examine them critically.
“Bit of endangered species research?” he asked a tad too nonchalantly. David wondered if he was going to accuse them of holding out on him—which, from pure force of habit, they almost had.
“Only one of its kind—in this World—I hope,” David told him. “I think they’re pretty common in Faerie. And before you get the wrong idea: we’ve not been hidin’ it. That little lady showed up not five minutes ago and was makin’ herself perfectly at home until you arrived, at which point she latched onto Alec like a leech.”
Aikin had not released the enfield, but neither did it seem inclined to resist his inspection. It licked his knuckles. He let it. “They always this friendly?”
David shrugged helplessly. “I’ve only met a couple.” Aikin was examining the claw/upper arm juncture.
“Whoa! How many joints we got in this leg anyway?”
“What do you mean?”