by Keith Walter
“You don’t… You’re only saying that because you were sitting safe on the boat.” He scoffed as the memories from the night before flooded back, “I’m sure it’s easy to claim the moral high ground when you’ve never been in a fight yourself.”
Leslie’s face went blank, and she slowly pulled up the hem of her shirt. Charles looked skeptically, noticing a star shaped scar in her side. “Fey don’t scar except from enchanted weapons,” she began. “How is it, do you think, that a bunch of free converts have remained so these past seven years? Do you think their old masters never tried to track them down, to take them back? You don’t think others have tried to take my family from me before?” As if to herself, she added, “No, of course you didn’t.”
Charles felt shamed enough to look away. “Okay, so you’ve had some scrapes. But you’re telling me you’ve ended up with scars like that where nobody else lost their life?” Charles grappled with the concept.
Leslie reached under her collar and pulled up a necklace with a twig and leaf on the end. “Yes, because I believe in something greater than myself. I know that life is precious. I don’t have the luxury of taking the easy way out.” She took a long breath before continuing. “I can’t just pick up and run when things get tough.”
“I’m not running away!” Charles tried to keep his voice down, but was failing miserably. As much as he hated it, Leslie’s points had hit home. When he fought Thames back in Detroit, he’d read the man’s thoughts. He had purposely let Thames go rather than finish the job, and the little girl and boy in the man’s head had played a part in that. But last night, he just didn’t want to think about it because it would have been too hard. Just as much, he didn’t want to think that all he’d ever been doing was running—from the Union and his own shame.
“Maybe not,” Leslie admitted. The anger and thinly veiled pain on Charles’s face had an oddly calming effect on her own frustrations. It occurred to her just how much he looked like the very people she worked to free. As much as she wanted to, not all of them were willing to accept help, to accept anyone. After a lifetime of being beaten down and having their minds poisoned, some developed a sort of paranoia that could take years to break through. Charles, she realized, was no different. Maybe if she had more time, or if he was really willing to be vulnerable, this was something she could help him with.
At the moment, however, she could only lower her voice and state the obvious. “But you’re certainly trying to push everyone away. And I can’t know if that’s because you’re just an asshole, or because it makes it that much easier for you to leave us all high and dry.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
Leslie held out her hand expectantly. “You took extra money, right? Twice as much as we need?”
“Yeah,” Charles replied skeptically.
“Give me half,” Leslie ordered softly. “If I’m such a burden, you can go ahead and do it yourself. I’ll get my own tickets and we can just have some backups. I’ll meet you back at Grace.” Charles hesitated, and she added, “I’m giving you the easy way out. The only way we can continue together is if you’re willing to actually talk to me, to let me in on the plans in your head.” It sounded so simple to her ears, but she had a feeling there was a much greater struggle in Charles head. She could only offer the olive branch.
Charles furrowed his brows, almost insulted at the way Leslie had suddenly turned the table. He couldn’t help the first thought that entered his mind, that she was somehow trying to manipulate him by pretending to be calm. Snorting derisively, Charles pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and slapped them in her hand. “You’re not going to make it halfway there without getting caught. And then where will your family be?” He turned and walked out of the store, placing a fake smile on his face as he weaved into the crowd of shoppers on the street.
Leslie sighed, took a deep breath, and then sighed again. Much as she was glad to be rid of Charles, she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t right. She didn’t know how to blend in, how to go unseen. But she couldn’t let her family down. Determination filled her and she held her head high. She’d find her own way, whatever the consequences.
A hundred yards down the road Leslie began noticing the stares. It wasn’t much at first, just a child pointing or a younger man doing a double-take as she walked by. She couldn’t tell if it was her clothes or perhaps just how much taller she was than other women, even fey sometimes were put off by that. Still, she pushed forward. There was too much at stake to fail.
She tried to do the math in her head. She had been walking almost a mile now, but wasn’t nearly as close to the depot as she would have hoped. Eventually the stares had died down, but her heightened hearing allowed her to catch snippets of conversations from those passing by. Some were awestruck, wondering if she might be a model. Others were quietly disdainful, commenting rudely to their friends or spouses. Every block, she found herself nervously trying to look casual as she calmed herself.
Main Street seemed to be giving out just a few blocks ahead. Instead of little storefront and restaurants, there were wide-open parking lots and giant stores proclaiming bulk sales. Leslie was torn. As much as she was upset with Charles, she wasn’t so naive as to disregard his annoyed advice. People stared and gawked, but they were otherwise harmless. She was something interesting to point at when walking by, but not so interesting as to really scrutinize. As she looked ahead toward the parking lot, she could count the people walking alone on one hand.
It would be easy for someone to watch her coming for an entire block, to really think about what an apparently ill-fitting woman was doing in front of a hardware store. She scanned for magical signatures as her breathing increased tempo. She found nothing, but chances were any fey out there would be hiding their strength, just like she was. Growing increasingly uncomfortable, she turned down the nearest alleyway to avoid the crowds for a moment. She needed to check the map, get a plan. And in the meantime, she could take a moment to calm her nerves.
She had only seconds to lean against the stone wall of some store she didn’t recognize when two men suddenly blocked the way back to the street. The taller man had a look of determination on his face, while the shorter and stockier fellow seemed more nervous. The taller man took an aggressive step forward, causing her right eyebrow to raise with irritation. “You,” he announced in what he must have thought was an authoritative tone, “you’re the terrorist from TV.”
She remained motionless against the wall. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” She remembered one of the convert women telling her once that a human male would say almost anything just to talk to a woman. She stared the man down, adding, “Nor am I interested in a conversation, so leave me.”
“Jim,” the second man called, his voice an octave higher than expected from his frame, “maybe we should just call. We don’t know for sure—”
Jim cut his friend off. “I’m damn sure.” He took another step forward. “And I’m not gonna let some terrorist bitch just walk through my town.” In what Leslie assumed was fast-paced for a human, the tall man cocked his right arm back and swung forward with all the strength in his two-hundred-pound body.
Leslie’s irritation was quickly turning into anger. There was no danger, of course. There wasn’t a human in the entire world who could pose a real threat to a full-blooded fey like herself. She could let the punch land and the best this man could do was not break his own fist. The magic in her blood, in her cells, protected her like the bark of a Black Locust. Still, she loathed the idea of letting this creature touch her face. In a blink, she slapped the incoming punch away. The force of her blow carried the man past her and stumbling down the alley from the missed punch. “I told you to leave me.”
The taller man regained his footing clumsily, then turned back to Leslie enraged. He hadn’t expected that, but he put on a false bravado as he brought his arms up in fists under his chin. “You’re a feisty one,” he announced with a sneering grin, “but I�
�ll show you what I can—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as his head snapped backward, his body following dramatically until he was slumped on the ground unconscious. Where his face once hovered, there was just a creamy brown fist attached to a livid young woman. Leslie flicked her eyes to the shorter man. “Do I need to be more clear?”
The shorter man took a frightened step back before fumbling his arm into his jacket. He pulled a gray metal object from his inside pocket, pointing the barrel at Leslie. “D-don’t move, lady,” he stuttered. “I know how to use this.”
Leslie felt no fear. She recognized the simple handgun pointed at her chest, but it would be no more dangerous than his friend’s punch. Unless this little man had a bazooka tucked in his back pocket, he posed no threat whatsoever. She watched the man reach his free hand into his outer pocket and pull out a glowing rectangular device. Just as the man glanced down to poke the device with his thumb, two hands shot out from the side. The first hand clamped over the gun, ensuring the hammer could not fall. The second crashed into the man’s face. As his body went limp, Leslie breathed out the name of her benefactor harshly, “Charles.”
Charles looked back to see a visibly perturbed Leslie. “Hey,” he called softly, ignoring the scuffle that just took place. He fidgeted for a moment before mumbling, “Sorry.”
“I thought you would be to the bus depot by now,” she replied, kneeling down over the first man she’d knocked out. Uncaring of the grime, she dug one nail into a patch of dirt on the ground and drew a small symbol on his forehead. A whistle and snap of her finger later, and she was sure he would remain unconscious for the rest of the day.
“We’d be better off killing them,” Charles announced gravely. “Dead men can’t call the authorities. But randomly charmed humans are going to cause suspicion.”
Turning to give Charles a piece of her mind, Leslie was shocked to see the same sleep symbol being drawn on the other human’s face. “Then what are you doing?”
“You might not believe me, but I don’t want to hurt people.” He finished the drawing, wiping the dirt from his finger. “You should probably complete that one.” He motioned toward the symbol he’d finished as he stepped back. Leslie eyed the spell carefully, wondering if there was some trick. “It’s the one you just drew,” Charles started, “but my magic, well, it isn’t particularly reliable. If we want to stick to the no-killing policy, then it would be safer if you do it.”
Leslie bent over, another whistle and snap of her fingers and the man fell into a deep sleep. Standing, she took in Charles’s appearance. He wore a jacket now with gaudy yellow and brown colors. He also refused to meet her eye. “You are not a follower of Behemoth,” she stated politely, “so what changed your mind now?”
Charles shoved his hands in the oversized pockets of his jacket. “I never wanted to hurt people, even less so those who don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.” Nodding at the closest human on the ground, he added, “These two are clearly pretty dumb but…” He sighed. “You know, they’re also kind of brave.”
Leslie realized Charles was trying to apologize, in his own awkward way. Part of her wanted to remain angry with him. Behemoth’s greatest teaching was the sanctity of all life, and this man clearly didn’t share that belief. But she had been on the run as well, and it had a way of hardening a person. She didn’t know what he had been through, what had brought him to this place. “You know, many of our family came to us under difficult circumstances. Some were close to gaining freedom on their own and just needed a little extra help. But others are truly criminals. Some even had to fight, to kill, to escape their slavery. We opened our home anyway, and offered a better life, a better way.”
“Slow down, there,” Charles replied, hands up in surrender. “I’m not looking for a family.”
“No,” Leslie agreed, then added with a smirk, “And I’m not offering a home. Behemoth teaches us to forgive, and it was wrong of me to judge so harshly. But you do make it difficult to get along with you.”
Charles deflated, leaning against the alley wall. “Believe it or not, you aren’t the first to say that. I’m sorry about that. I…haven’t had a lot of practice dealing with others in a while.” Smiling sardonically, he added, “Well, others who aren’t trying to kill me, that is.”
“This is a good start,” Leslie replied sincerely.
“Speaking of,” Charles started, “give me a moment.” He leapt around the corner of the alley and returned with an equally gaudy jacket as his own. “I got this for you. Consider it a peace offering.”
“It’s…umm.”
“Horrendous, I know.” He smiled. “But they love their sports out here and would never think badly of someone who shares their favorite team. Try it on.”
Slipping the jacket over her arms, she was pleasantly surprised to see it was exactly her size. She zipped up the front, only to find out just how baggy it was on her lean frame. “I feel like a marshmallow.”
“Yeah, I thought that might happen.” Sliding his own jacked off, he slowly put it on his shoulders and let it flow like a cape. “You can do the same.”
Leslie followed suit, letting the jacket hang on her shoulders. “This will keep the humans from staring?”
“Not all of them,” Charles admitted, “but the ones we have to worry about.”
“I still don’t fully understand why we need to hide now amongst the humans.” That wasn’t entirely true. Leslie was a clever woman, and her encounter with the thugs in the alley had clued her in enough that even the humans could pose an obstacle. But she needed to know that Charles wasn’t just trying to bribe his way onto her good side. She needed to know he had really reconsidered his way of dealing with others.
Charles rubbed the back of his head. He was a clever man himself. He could tell Leslie wasn’t stupid, and remembered her challenge of transparency. “It’s not just the idiots,” he began. “I mentioned it before, but the Union will be spread thin looking for us. They need more eyes, and who better to use than the locals.”
Charles dug into the pockets of one of the downed men before holding up a glowing rectangular device. Following a smudged pattern on the face, the phone unlocked and he showed a photo on the screen. It was a picture of Leslie with warnings about how she was armed and dangerous and to contact police if seen. He flipped his thumb up on the screen and pictures of Serin, Barclay, Talmer, and the rest of the converts scrolled across. “The Union is smart. They release false details to human newsmakers and let the story run. They can plug a single sensor into the communications of thousands of human authorities, and the humans become part of their forces.”
Startled, Leslie furrowed her brow. “But interaction with the humans is forbidden.”
“And this isn’t interaction,” Charles explained, “not really. They leave the evidence for the humans to find. They tap into communications without the humans knowing. They get the benefits of breaking the law without ever having to own up to it.” Raising one eyebrow, he added knowingly, “I’m sure it doesn’t come as much surprise that the Union is big on loopholes for their own gain.”
“No,” Leslie replied in a hard tone, thinking of her fruitless attempts to dispute their laws, “it doesn’t.” Shaking the memories from her thoughts, she pulled the jacket tighter over her shoulders. “You think with this little disguise we can get through safely?”
“Well, I don’t mean to brag.” Trying to lighten things up, Charles puffed out his chest. “But running away isn’t my only skill. I’m also an expert hider.” Smirking, he nodded. “This’ll work.”
Leslie offered a small smile in return. “I defer to your expertise.” Gently, she propped the two men against the wall behind a trash bin before pointing toward the street. “We should get moving, then.”
“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “But—” he continued to tap and swipe on the stolen phone for a few seconds “—I think I have an easier option than just walking.”
&nbs
p; She raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”
Charles held up the phone again. “Looks like our friend is an avid user of public transportation.” He began tapping furiously. “We now have tickets on the second line bus route.” He turned in a half circle to orient the little route map on the phone with his position. “There’s a stop a couple streets up, and the next bus should be arriving in just a few minutes.”
Leslie didn’t understand anything going on with the tiny glowing device, but Charles seemed confident. It didn’t pass her notice that he seemed much more open to explanation if she were to ask questions. She could offer him some trust. “Lead the way,” she said with a sweep of her hand.
They walked in silence to the bus stop. Leslie remained unnerved, but was even able to feign relaxation when they arrived, leaning against the poles holding up a small metal roof. As predicted, a large bus settled to a stop just minutes after they arrived. Leslie again let Charles take the lead, finding herself a bit jealous at the ease with which he carried himself.
Charles smiled at the driver as he held his stolen phone over a ticket reader. He waited for the driver to notice two tickets register before catching the man’s eye. Charles nodded toward the door with a self-satisfied smirk. “She—” he waited a beat for the driver to lean forward to look at Leslie “—is my plus one.” The driver looked at Leslie, then rolled his eyes and waved them passed. Humans were easy, Charles thought. Tell them what to look at, and they’ll go out of their way to ignore it.
Leslie pushed around her companion to find an empty seat at the far back. She squeezed close to the window and was relieved to see the bus remained sparsely filled. The closest human was five seats away, and seemingly engrossed with his phone. She stared out the window as the bus pulled away before her eyes unconsciously were drawn to her companion.