Her head was beyond tingling now. Needle pricks raced across her scalp, and though her brain seemed to have ceased its squirming it had started an all-out attack from just behind the eyes. That, combined with the not-so-innocent, warm little breath of a breeze did something to her that had never happened before. Autumn, got really, really mad. Not crazy-mad, or Joey-Berchoni-calling-her-a-dork mad, but the furious sort of mad. The shoot-fire-from-your-eyes kind.
She glared at the clouds, wrinkling her nose up in what her mother called her grumpy face, and waggled her finger at the brewing storm. “Go away!”
The cloud rolled closer, unperturbed.
“Go away!” Autumn jumped up, stomping her foot as she jabbed her finger toward the south. “You can go there for all I care, but you are not coming here!”
As she said this, the all-over tingle in her head condensed down to a ball of achy-itchy pain right behind the bridge of her nose. Autumn gasped, closing her eyes as she dug at them with the heels of her hand. Even through the pain, a horrible thought occurred, one she quickly discarded. This could not be the itch her parents had been talking about, absolutely could not. This wasn’t an itch, it was a really, really bad headache.
Oh stop, oh stop, go away, go away, go away.
And then as suddenly as it had come, it went, bursting like a firecracker in her head: a quick burst of light followed by a fzzzz.
When Autumn was sure the last little spark of the strange headache was gone she straightened, blinking her eyes. Warily, she looked around. Frowned. It seemed strange and somehow not right that nothing had changed while she’d just had the weirdest experience in her life. Cars still honked at each other down on the streets below, her little garden sat unharmed, and there was not a cloud in the sky to mar the warm spring day.
Wait … not a cloud in the sky?
She reached out, curling her hand lightly around the cherry tree’s trunk. “That was … weird,” she told it. And definitely not normal. And right now she wanted nothing else more desperately than to be normal.
Autumn took three long deep breaths, trying to make logic of what had just happened. Her strange headache was gone, along with both the squirmy tingle and the storm. The coincidence of those events could not be ignored, but to think that she had anything to do with the storm’s disappearance?
“Silly. I’m being silly. Lots of people get tingles or achy limbs or even headaches when there is an approaching storm front. My headache’s gone because the storm is gone, right?”
She turned to her garden for confirmation. Their beaming blossoms smiled back at her. Pleased with their assurance, she smiled back. And because it was so important to keep them happy, she pulled out her watering can and started the first of what would be a number of trips down to the apartment for their filtered water.
“But why, mom? Why can’t daddy be here to tuck me in?” Autumn tried. She really, really tried, but she couldn’t seem to stop the quaver in her voice nor the trembling of her lip.
Her daddy always tucked her in, the nighttime routine always the same. First her mom would come in and sing; her pure voice as sweet and soothing as the goodnight hug and kiss she gave her at the end. Then her father would come in, with a book tucked under his arm and a promise not to fill their daughter’s head with nonsense as he passed his wife at the door. He’d shut the door, his angular features stiff and serious as he waited the required five seconds to make sure her mother had gone away.
And then they’d look at each other and smile their conspirators’ smiles. Her father would sneak across the room, discarding the stuffy old storybook on the nightstand before stretching out on the bed, his back to the headboard, his legs crossed, and pull her up against his chest so she could listen to his heart as he whispered to her some fantastical story of fairies and unicorns and mermaids and monsters. And then, after, would be the tuck-in. She loved her daddy’s tuck-ins. They made her feel safe and loved and, well, perfect.
Autumn could have lived without the story, but not the tuck-in.
“Darling,” Autumn’s mother soothed, brushing her cheek with her knuckles. “Your daddy is a weatherman.”
Autumn rolled her eyes thinking that must be the most unhelpful explanation ever.
Her mother chuckled, tucking the sheet up tight around Autumn’s chin. “That means sometimes he has to go where the weather is.”
Autumn thought real hard about that. So hard she could feel her skin bunching on her forehead. Her mother wasn’t making any sense. The weathermen on TV never went anywhere. OK, maybe sometimes when there was a huge storm. But most of the time they just pointed at those silly maps on TV, which weren’t really maps but green screens that the weathermen had to pretend had real pictures and maps and charts on them.
Daddy had never been on TV. Not in front of those silly maps and not in the middle of a big storm. He said it was because he was more of a “behind-the-scenes guy.” Which made her wonder, would a behind-the-scenes guy really have to go away to track a big storm?
A shiver of worry ran up her spine. She didn’t want her daddy in the middle of a big storm. People got hurt. People died in big storms.
“When is daddy going to be home?” Her voice was definitely quivering now. She didn’t care.
Her mother looked down at her with serious grown-up eyes. Autumn could tell she was debating her answer. She was not only taking too long but she was gnawing her lip again. Mom did that a lot when she was worried or unsure. Autumn really hoped it was the latter.
Then her mother smiled, bending down to tickle her as she delivered another kiss. “Don’t worry, darling. Daddy should be home sometime tomorrow.”
But it wasn’t tomorrow, nor the next day. Three days and lots of lip-chewing on her mother’s part later, Autumn dragged her backpack up the stairs to her apartment and pushed the door open. It had been a terrible day. James and Joey had been relentless in their teasing and Jessica? Argh, could a girl be any more perfectly normal? Who really cared if Autumn liked using big words and so what that she didn’t find some stupid square sponge funny? Nope, she didn’t feel one ounce of bad for telling them that they had been brainwashed by pop culture and had the intellect of said sponge.
Autumn had stomped halfway across the living room before she saw him. Her daddy, sprawled on the couch, eyes closed. With a thud, she dropped her book bag and leapt, flinging herself across her daddy’s massive chest. He grunted, but then chuckled, his arms tightening around her like bands of steel as he returned her hug. And quite a hug it was.
Maybe if she held on tight enough he would never disappear on her again. If not, then at least it might make up for all the hugs he’d missed while away.
A large hand came up, stroking down the back of her head. “I missed you too, pumpkin.”
“Where were you, daddy?”
“There was quite a storm to the south of here. I had to go and check things out.”
Autumn pushed up, looking down at her daddy. “To the south?”
He nodded, his wide eyes narrowing. “Why, pumpkin, did you—”
“Evan?” They both looked around at the sound of her mother’s voice. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a steaming cup in her hands.
“Ah! Thank you, Gwen.” He sat up, shifting Autumn over to his side as he reached for the cup, wrapping his large hands around the stoneware. “This should hit the spot.”
“Still cold?”
He sighed. “It was quite the storm.”
Autumn’s mother cut her gaze to Autumn, then back to her husband. Whatever message was being sent between the two of them must have been more obvious to them than it was to Autumn because her daddy cleared his throat and turned to her with a smile plastered on his face.
“So what have you been doing while I’ve been away, pumpkin?”
That was all Autumn needed. She began to fill her daddy in on all the wonderful things that had been happening in her garden while he was away. How her cherry tree had blossomed and her sweet
peas were growing so fast they’d started to curl around the fourth string and her gerbera daisy …
“You have to see it daddy! It’s so pretty and it has three blossoms on it now. I hoped it would get one or two this year but I never expected it to grow so fast.”
“I did.” He grinned, pinching her cheek. “You have the magic touch, pumpkin.”
“Evan.”
They both looked at her mother. Another wordless message passed between her parents. Autumn couldn’t fathom what it was so she shrugged and went back to talking. She really wanted to share her flowers with her dad. He always loved her garden and was so impressed by how she made them all fit together like a master’s artist palette, everything working in harmony to create a beautiful blending of colors. That’s what he said, always following it up by, “You’re the genuine thing, pumpkin. Someday you’re going to put your old man to shame.”
It used to disturb her, that last bit, but that was before she’d asked her teacher and Ms. Banks had explained that to put someone to shame meant that you surpassed them in skill. Autumn didn’t think it could ever really happen (her daddy was the best daddy ever and good at positively everything) but it made her proud to think that he thought she was going to be even close to as wonderful as he was someday.
“Daddy, do you want to come up and see my garden? At least half is blooming now and I switched some things around so that—”
“Autumn,” her mother interrupted. Autumn twisted to look at her mother who was still hovering nearby. “Your father is tired. Let him rest.”
Autumn looked back at her father, for the first time noticing that his beautiful golden skin looked sallow, his handsome face looked drawn. Worry warred with disappointment. She didn’t like that her daddy was so tired looking, but she still wanted to show him her garden.
“Maybe after your father has a nap he can come up.”
Autumn chewed on her lip. What had her daddy been doing that he was so tired? Was the storm that bad?
Her mother cleared her throat. “It is a hot, dry day. Do you need to water your plants?”
That had Autumn springing up. It had been hot. Nearly a hundred degrees at noon, which was totally unheard of in early May. Most of her plants were hardy enough to make it until tomorrow but there were a few … she looked back at her dad. For some reason she didn’t want to leave his side. It was silly, but she couldn’t help but fear that he might disappear on her again.
“Ah, pumpkin, ease that worry from your brow. You are my sunshine. And like one of your precious flowers, I promise I’ll be here awaiting your return.”
Her daddy was so smart to understand her so well. She bent down, smacking a sloppy kiss on his lips and then spun and raced for the roof stairs.
Autumn tiptoed down the stairs leading from the roof to her apartment, her precious cargo clenched tightly in her hands. The afternoon had passed, as had a quiet dinner with her mother, and still her daddy had slept on the couch. He did manage to rouse himself to tuck her in, but there had been no story, and as soon as he was done he’d stumbled off down the hall to his bedroom. This morning, her mother had said he was “run down” and “sleeping in” and that Autumn “shouldn’t disturb him.”
Autumn didn’t like it but she understood. It was like that time she’d gotten that awful tummy bug and afterward she’d slept for almost two days straight before she felt better again. Her daddy hadn’t been sick, but it was obvious that whatever he’d been doing for his job had tired him terribly. She’d decided that “run down” was a kind of sickness and was determined to help him get better as fast as possible.
Which was why she was bringing him her gerbera daisy. She just knew having it beside his bed to look at would cheer him up. And her daddy said that a smile was one of the best cures in the world.
Autumn reached their front door, slipping inside. Her backpack weighed down her shoulders like a guilty reminder of what she should be doing. Heading to the bus stop. It would be okay though. She’d just leave the gerbera daisy on his dresser, slip back out, scoot down to the back entrance of her building, and cut through the side street to catch the bus at its next stop. And because of her efforts, by the end of the day her daddy would be up and about and ready to go to the roof to look at the rest of her garden.
She hadn’t made it past the tiled foyer when her parents’ voices drifted down the hall to her, her mother’s voice pitched with worry and her daddy’s … well she’d never heard her daddy sound like that. All hard and angry and … scary.
“Whoever he or she is, they’re an idiot. The council is not going to tolerate this sort of blatant display of power. The moment the bean-sídhe tracks them down it will be the end of their fool life.”
There was a stretch of silence then the sound of something smacking into something else. Like a fist into wood.
“This is exactly the kind of thing that we can’t have! With how efficient technology is today, with no plausible explanation for such an extreme shift, incidents like this could expose our entire race. Do you have any idea what could happen then? The kind of mad panic that could ensue?”
Autumn held her breath. She didn’t know exactly what her daddy was talking about, only that he’d taken on the same kind of urgent tone he used when he spoke to her about the “big three rules.” But how those rules could have anything to do with other races and councils and power …
Daddy is talking like the people in his stories are real. Autumn inched another step closer.
“Do you suppose it was a mistake?” her mother asked. “Perhaps someone newly come into their power and unused to handling such a large storm?”
“By Danu, I wish that it were, but no. A newly fledged youngling would not be able to divert such a widespread weather pattern. The power needed to shift the jet stream and then create a pressure bubble to keep it there? We still haven’t been able to re-establish the natural patterns and that’s with both me and Avril working on it.”
“Is that why it’s been so hot the last few days?”
“It’s all we can do to keep the temperatures down to livable levels.” There was a pause. “If this doesn’t break, we’re looking at one of the worst heat waves ever.”
“And then what?” Her mother’s voice trembled with worry. Autumn felt a corresponding sink in her tummy. She waited for her father’s answer breathlessly, her lip clamped tight between her teeth.
“People could die. No. People will die if we don’t… .”
Her father kept talking but Autumn didn’t hear. She gasped, the pot slipping through her numb fingers. She watched, time seeming to slow, as her prize gerbera daisy plummeted to the floor, the pot smashing on the unforgiving tile. Dirt heaved up and spread in a ring. The daisy bounced, petals shaking violently in the explosion, the blossoms splitting and slumping down on the mound of dirt and terracotta shards.
Not me. Not me. It was chance the storm went away when she told it to, she assured herself.
“Who’s there?” A door banged open. Hurried footsteps.
But what about the headache? Was that a coincidence too?
“Autumn?”
She lifted her head from the destruction at her feet, eyes wide as she gazed at her father. His edges were blurry, like looking through the funky old glass at her Aunt Elana’s Victorian house.
She looked back down at the flower at her feet. It laid limply, one blossom bent awkwardly on its stem. The others crushed under the settling dirt.
She’d killed it. She’d told the storm to go away. She’d … she’d… .
“Pumpkin. Honey… .”
She jerked her gaze back up again. Saw her daddy easing down the hall, his hand outstretched like she was a cornered dog that he was trying to soothe. Her mother was less than a step behind, her hand clenched around daddy’s other arm.
Daddy. Her daddy could fix anything.
But not this. Her daddy couldn’t fix this.
With a cry of dismay she spun around, pushing through the apar
tment door. She ran. Faster than she’d ever run, her feet hardly touching the treads as she disregarded the slow elevator and bolted down the stairs instead. She heard her mother calling her. The heavy footfalls that told her daddy was chasing her. Whimpering, she shrugged the heavy backpack from her shoulders and ran harder, taking chances, leaping down half-flights of stairs.
She thought it was hopeless, that her daddy would catch her and then he’d find out that she … that she’d… .
No, no, no. Not me! Coincidence. Just a coincidence.
Behind her, her daddy shouted in surprise. There was a loud thud, then a long exclamation of words strung together that she’d never heard her daddy utter before.
Her backpack, he must have tripped. And now he would be really, really angry with her.
Choking back a sob, she ran down the last flight of stairs and burst through the back door onto the street beyond.
“Autumn? What are you doing here?”
Autumn choked back a sob, just one in a long string of them, and raised her swollen face from her knees. A trail of snot dripped from her nose to the soaked edge of her skirt. Embarrassed, she swiped it away, hoping that James hadn’t noticed. Bad enough James had caught her crying. She bet James never cried. James was too much of a boy to cry.
She looked up at him, saw the horrified look of disgust on his face, and had to fight the urge to stuff her head back in the crook of her bent knees.
“Aw, man. Have you been crying?”
Well, duh, she thought, jutting her chin out defensively. Though defensive or not, it never hurt to be polite. “Hello, James.”
“Yeah, hey.” He scratched the back of his head, his mouth twisting up funny as his gaze drifted away from her, scanning the empty park they were in.
Autumn looked around, too. It wasn’t the best place in the neighborhood. The playground equipment was old, the grounds overgrown with weeds and shrubbery that had a tendency to both catch and provide shelter to an assortment of trash. The majority of the mothers and children in the neighborhood utilized the new park three blocks over near the Baptist church. But this had been the only place she could think to go. The other park and her school were completely out of the question if she didn’t want to be found.
The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity Page 9