I don’t laugh this time, because he’d fit right in among the creaking, crashing slabs. “And now they’re back?”
“Don’t you listen? Why am I wasting time telling you this if you’re not going to listen? That was back in November. It’s after New Year’s now. No, they came back right when I said.” The old man starts grinning. “And I tricked ‘em.” He spreads both his hands and, on each one, he’s wearing a ring. Delicate, silver filigree on one and heavy, black onyx set with diamonds on the other. “I joined ‘em both.”
He adds, after a minute, “They’ve been fighting over me ever since. I reckon this whole blizzard situation has been them fighting over me.”
Finally, I say, “Wow.” I think about that a while, then I say, “I heard the orange trees froze in Florida, and the Lakes aren’t going to melt until July, and the jet fuel for the airplanes turned to ice.”
He just shrugs again. “Might have happened anyhow. It’s winter. It gets cold.”
“You have to stop it,” I insist. “You can’t just go around two-timing winter queens. You’ve gotta choose one of ‘em and give the other ring back.”
He grins. “I don’t know, I think they kind of like it.”
I stand up again, so I can look him in the eye instead of looking up at him. “You said you didn’t want human ice pops all over your lawn. What do you think will happen if they keep fighting like this? Another ice age, I bet. Ice pops everywhere.”
“Won’t be on my front lawn,” he says, stubborn as a mule.
“Another ice age and the whole world’s going to be your front lawn. Come on, man! You didn’t want me to freeze to death on your porch, or in here. Don’t be so—” I stopped.
“Don’t be so cold?” He barks a laugh again.
“Don’t be so cold about everybody else.” I can be stubborn too.
He taps his fingers together. “You read, kid. You ever try writing?”
“What?” He changes subjects so fast I’m having trouble keeping up.
“You ever try writing down a story? So that other people can read it?”
“Not since seventh grade. I had to keep a blog on the internet. But I didn’t have anything to say.”
“Well, now you do.” He looks at me like I’m irritating him again. “Stop gaping. You go out there and you write down the story of Old Man Winter, eh? Me, in this falling-apart house, me, who the winter queens came to. Nobody ever wanted to give me a chance but them and I tricked ‘em and look how they love it.”
I give him my best suspicious look, the one I save for the kids I’m babysitting. “You going to go out there and stop this?”
“Fine, fine,” he says, and he puts his hand on the door. His hand’s trembling, though.
“You stay in here, you’re nobody,” I tell him. It’s mean, but he’s cold, and apparently mean is what cold likes best. He’d know, right? “You’re just a guy pretending. I don’t have to write about Old Man Winter, just some mean, old guy who wouldn’t let me shovel his walk.”
He glares at me, then flings the door open and steps out into the storm.
I go after him, at least to the door, because hell yeah, I want to see what happens next. But all I see is the whiteout. Then, less than a minute later, the whiteout ends with a snap. The wind dies. The storm dies. And the old man is nowhere to be seen.
Well. I don’t really know what happened, I don’t know which ring he chose, but the big storm circling half the country broke up that day. It stayed winter, of course, and it hasn’t been a nice winter for anybody. I know it’s April now, and I’m finally getting around to writing this in the hopes that the winter will finally start backing off. I could use some spring.
Eden Falls
The problem with an angel’s magic coursing through your veins is that it just does not quit. Take getting falling down drunk. It’s hard to get properly drunk when that angel magic is just working away repairing all the damage you’re trying to do.
All the same, Simon had gotten pretty good at it over the centuries. He and his magic had come to an accommodation. But it scared the natives.
He sat on the curb outside a grocery store, the afternoon sun shining down brightly, and tried to remember why he was there. Oh yes. The nice little clerk inside had refused to sell him more booze. And it was afternoon now. Last he remembered clearly, it hadn’t quite been dawn.
They’d arrived during the twilight, as the town shimmered like a mirage around them. But he didn’t want to think about that.
He eyed the gas station across the parking lot blearily. But in a town like this, it probably dispensed moonbeams instead of proper fuel. He’d rather drink the water.
The face of a woman swam before his mind’s eye as the angel’s magic did its dirty business. The face didn’t belong to the grocery store clerk. It was another woman. She was the reason he was in this damned town, and it wasn’t the fun kind of reason, either. It had been a job. She’d wanted him to bring her into Eden Falls. Into this town stolen away from the world by faeries.
It had been tricky, right enough, but he’d managed it. Just a lick of wizardry and some persistence, and they’d fallen right through the emptiness at the end of the highway.
Simon stopped remembering then. That was another skill. It was a good skill, but it worked better when he had something to drink. So he pushed himself off the curb and managed to roll to his feet.
A hand gripped his arm supportively and he peered down. It was the little clerk, in a knit hat with a flower and a backpack over her shoulder.
“What, you off work already?” Simon tried to say.
She said, “I was worried about you, so my boss let me go early. They’ll be all right. The question we’re all wondering about is: will you?”
“Oh, I’m just great. Peachy.” He considered. “Not like you, though.”
“Clearly not,” she said, amused. She had fine black hair like Simon’s and pixie-like features. “I’m a bit curious about that too.”
“Dunno. I was waiting and waiting. Didn’t happen. So I went to the bar down the street. Real friendly barkeep there. Proper-like. Everybody knows your name. But not my name.”
She gave him a bottle of water. He regarded it doubtfully. Drinking it seemed rather contrary to his goal, but she was looking at him so expectantly. Once he’d finished it, she started walking with him, gently pushing him along by his elbow. He let her, because he hadn’t any idea what to do next. Coming up with an idea required looking in places he didn’t want to look.
The water and the angel magic did their horrid work, and he said, “Ah….” just as she released his arm.
“There’s a men’s room right here. Go take care of business and splash some water on your face, and then maybe we can figure out what’s wrong?”
“Good timing,” Simon mumbled. They were at a small, lush park with a playground visible amidst trees that radiated health. Even the damn trees were happy here.
“Try your best and everything will work out,” she said cheerfully. “It all works out.”
This was the first time anything had worked out for Simon since he’d entered Eden Falls. Maybe it was the girl; maybe things were working out for the girl so she didn’t have an even bigger mess on her hands.
The water was very cold, and didn’t help him feel any better. Of course, the girl had a very different idea of what Simon needed to feel better than he did.
He left the bathroom, and the girl was still waiting there. “What’s your name? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘this girl,’ or else I’ll get you confused with the other girl.”
She giggled. “I’m Tammy.”
“I hope you’re not going to sober me up too much. I get mean when I’m sober.”
“I’m just trying to solve a puzzle,” she said earnestly. “You shouldn’t be here. Not like this.”
“Doesn’t living here bother you?” he asked, rubbing his fingers against his temples. “It sounds like you understand exactly where you are.”
“It’s Eden Falls.” She shrugged. “Who’s this other girl you mentioned?”
“Came in with her. Came here because of her. She wanted to be here,” he said bitterly. “Carolyn Astin.”
“Oh, her. I know where she is. Shall we go talk to her?” Tammy took his elbow again, like somebody used to guiding people around.
“Don’t much see the point,” he said. “She paid me in advance. Of course, a lot of it’s in my bank account back in the real world.”
“Hard to access now,” she agreed. “But you seem to have some kind of unresolved issues with Carolyn. Let’s go find out what they are.”
“How do you know where she is? She only just got here.” He paused, thinking about that. “Unless I’ve been drunk a lot longer than I thought.”
“Oh, you hear a lot of gossip working at the register of a grocery store in a town like this. Everybody’s passing the time of day with you. She’s getting set up at the Stonefire Apartments. That’s our local nest of artists. It’s about a ten minute walk away. Do you think you can make it?”
Simon thought about that, then ventured, “No?”
“Liar,” said Tammy cheerfully. “Come on.” She pulled him down the sidewalk, past the park. The avenue beyond looked just like an ordinary small town, except that everything seemed clean, even the faded signs.
“It’ll be a lot more than ten minutes,” he warned her. “You’ve got better things to do than drag a man like me someplace he doesn’t want to be. I’m pretty heavy when I fall down.”
She flexed her free arm. “Stocking shelves has made me buff. Try your best, Simon!”
“That’s such a stupid slogan,” grumbled Simon.
Tammy ignored him to greet a middle-aged man strolling down the sidewalk. “Afternoon, Peter! Did you see that episode of Tanglewood last night?”
Peter shook his head and smiled. “Had a date, Miss Tammy. I’m going to watch it tonight.” The man’s gaze lingered curiously on Simon, but he didn’t say anything.
As they passed, Simon frowned. “Wait, you get TV signals here?”
“Sure, some of them. The popular ones.”
“Popular with who?”
Tammy elbowed him and grinned. “The faeries, of course.”
“I hate this town,” Simon said bitterly.
Tammy said again, “Liar,” then waved vigorously at somebody crossing the street.
“How do you figure I’m lying?” Simon asked indignantly.
“Well, you’re still here, aren’t you?”
“Hah, you think it’s easy to get out? It took over a week to make our way in. And I’ve hardly been in any condition to do that kind of work to get out.”
She didn’t respond, maintaining her pressure on his elbow with a careless ease. Instead she studied the sky. “It might storm later. Do you like thunderstorms?”
Simon’s father had worked as a storm god for a while. “No,” he said shortly. “They make me itch.”
Tammy gurgled with laughter. “Of course.” She sniffed, then pointed at a red, brick building with a massive mural of a castle on the near wall. “Hey, look, they’re having a building barbecue. That’s great, we can get some food in you.”
“Did you ever consider,” said Simon, with as much dignity as he could muster, “That I was trying my best to die of alcohol poisoning? Your bloody town is broken that way.”
Her expression turned serious. “Not normally. There’s those who want to die in the way they choose, and Eden Falls is there for them, too.”
“Then why are you meddling?” wailed Simon.
“Because you’re complicated, Simon Mitsukuni. That’s awfully interesting. I like interesting and Eden Falls provides.”
“Great. I’m here to be your fix-it toy. Just perfect.” He made a token effort to yank his arm out of her grip. She was barely half his size; a token effort should have been enough. Would have been enough if he’d been at his best.
It had been a long, long time since he was at his best.
“There’s your girl,” said Tammy, far too excited about it. She waved at a group of people standing around a barbecue on the side lawn of the illustrated building.
“She’s not my girl,” explained Simon, for what felt like the ninth time. “She was just a client.” Maybe all the other times had been in his head.
But Carolyn looked over, put down the plate she was holding, and came over to them. “Simon!” she said. “You’re still here?”
Smiling, Tammy released Simon’s arm, said, “You two talk,” and wandered over to the other people.
“Sure, I thought I’d see the sights.” Looking at Carolyn was like anticipating a drink of the best Scotch.
She’d been a client, but she’d also been an artist he’d followed long before she approached his group for help. Her work, written and inked, had spoken to him: spoken to him of what he’d lost, spoken of his own misery and shadowed pain. And then he’d brought her here, where there was no misery and only as much pain as one liked. He felt like he’d murdered something beautiful.
She looked at him a long moment. “It hasn’t touched you yet, has it?”
He shook his head. “But it’s got you. It got you right away. I saw your face change.”
Carolyn sighed at a pleasant memory. “Yes. I feel so amazing now, Simon. It was a struggle just to sit up some days, you know? And now the burden is gone. I feel like I could fly. Thank you.”
“Try your best,” parroted Simon, because he didn’t know what else to say. Then he did know. “What about your art? Is it worth giving up your art for?”
Carolyn’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Oh. You’re one of those who think I can’t make art if I’m not unhappy.” She took a step away from him, as if she’d finally noticed his reek.
Mulishly, Simon said, “Can you?”
Her chin came up. “Yes. Of course I can.” She laced her fingers together. “It won’t be the same art, but my style has always been developing, hasn’t it? And even if isn’t the art everybody else wants, I’m a person, not an art machine. I deserve to be happy, don’t I?” Her eyes were wide again, pleading, and Simon felt a small, shameful pleasure that even in legendary Eden Falls, he was capable of ruining somebody’s joy.
She hadn’t talked to him much on their journey in. She’d been reserved, thoughtful. She was a far star: beautiful, distant, and inspiring. She hadn’t seemed miserable to him. He hadn’t known quite what was going on in Eden Falls until she’d told him, hadn’t realized she wanted to stay until she’d walked away from him.
He wondered now if she would have talked more if he’d talked first. But he hadn’t talked either. He would have said something stupid if he’d tried. But maybe if he had found a way, maybe if he’d given her the opportunity, she would have given up her quest, gone back to her life in the outside world where she was a celebrity, beloved by thousands.
Probably not. He’d never successfully talked anybody out of a dumb decision, not even himself. It was a good excuse for drinking.
He found himself peering over Carolyn’s shoulder, wondering if there was an ice chest full of beer to go along with the barbecue. Beer wasn’t his favorite, but in a pinch anything would do. He was feeling the pinch right now.
Carolyn was still staring at him, as if she wanted him to bless her choice. Him. That was crazy. “Sure,” he told her. “It seems nice here. Well done. You found a great place. ‘Scuse me, I need to get me one of those.”
He stepped around her and headed straight for the table of drinks he’d identified. He had one in his hand and half-empty before Tammy appeared in front of him, lips pursed and eyes laughing. “Did you two sort things out?”
“Don’t tell me a keen young thing like yourself wasn’t listening,” he accused.
Her nose wrinkled. “Maybe a little. I’m not sure what you talked about made much sense.”
“She’s famous,” he said. “You can go see her stuff on the internet if you want.”
> “You know, the internet doesn’t much work here anymore. You try to go to a website and you get these moving lights and pretty music instead. It’s nice.”
“Unlike the internet. God, this place really is paradise, isn’t it?”
“Aww,” Tammy said and tugged him over to a broad-trunked tree at the corner of the building. “Sit here in the shade and you’ll feel better.” She handed him another can. This one was full of fruit juice, the nonalcoholic kind. He slumped against the tree.
“What was it like, when it happened? When the faeries stole this place away from the world?”
Her gaze went distant. “It was just a town, you know? Everybody just trying to make it through the day and hoping like hell tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad, and convincing themselves that yesterday was worse. Except for the ones who didn’t think about their days at all, even to appreciate what they had. And then, one day, everybody woke up and things really were better. The toast didn’t burn. The milk didn’t spill. The babies didn’t have colic. Nobody ached anymore.” She regarded him seriously, her brown eyes wide. “There’s still pain, sometimes. But it’s a sharp pain, and it fades quickly, leaving the… the pleasure of not being in pain.” She blushed, and he wondered what kind of things went on in paradise after dark.
“You met any of them?” He swigged some of the fruit juice. It tasted like it needed a couple of years in an oak barrel. “Any of the faeries who did this?”
“Yes,” she said, and that was all.
He prodded, “Are there a lot? What are they like?”
She resettled herself on the grass, tucking her legs beneath her. “There’s some. A circle. The magic comes from the circle. They’re strange, mostly. But kind.”
“This ain’t kind,” Simon told her. “This is unnatural.”
“Well, I think it’s kind. Carolyn seems to like it. So does Peter, who we met walking over here, and Cassie, my manager at the store.”
“And none of you mind what’s been taken from you? Makes me sick.“
“What’s been taken from us?” She sounded honestly puzzled by the idea.
“I don’t know. Something. This sort of thing don’t happen without a price.”
Etiquette of Exiles (Senyaza Series Book 4) Page 13