All These Shiny Worlds

by Jefferson Smith

  So, it was just a child—one that was out too late, in her opinion, but that was neither here nor there. Parents will do what parents will do. She set her binoculars down.

  Suddenly, that special place in her consciousness flexed, and Callie understood that she needed to get involved in this situation. She was a bit perplexed but shrugged it off—her blessing had dealt her much bigger surprises in the past.

  “Lord, thank you for your guidance,” she murmured and got out of her car.

  The child was engrossed in something in the trees and didn’t see Callie until she stepped off the sidewalk and her boots crunched in the old, crystallized snow. At the noise, the small figure wheeled around and bolted across the cemetery.

  “Wait!” Callie called. “I won’t hurt you!”

  Without stopping, the child glanced back. Callie glimpsed a pale, frightened female face. Then the child tripped over a low grave marker and sprawled in the snow.

  When Callie got to her, the girl was folded over her right leg, trembling. She was hurt and trying not to cry.

  Callie knelt in the snow next to her. “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I think I hurt myself,” the girl said shakily.

  “Can I take a look?”

  The girl wasn’t well dressed, Callie noticed. She had the big parka, but no mittens. Instead of winter boots, she was wearing sneakers. Her jeans were soaked through with melted snow. It was much too cold for an outfit like that.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  The girl didn’t say anything.

  Moving slowly, she straightened the girl’s leg and began to roll up her sodden pants.

  “Are you afraid you’ll get in trouble?”

  The girl sniffled and nodded.

  “I promise not to tell,” Callie said.

  The girl studied her face but said nothing.

  Callie smiled at her, then continued working the pant leg up. The girl’s skin looked very red. She was on her way to frostbite.

  “There’s a cut—see? But not too bad. Mostly it’s bruised.”

  Gently, she touched the girl’s skin next to the injury, then froze. Callie could feel the girl’s ability to work essence. And the girl could clearly feel Callie’s. She jerked away and scrambled up, backing away.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she said, looking panicked. “I haven’t told anyone.” A terrified sob escaped.

  “Hush, child. No one sent me. I live here, just up in Pinecrest. I saw you while I was driving home. I didn’t know you were one of the blessed.”

  The girl stood there, terrified but also clearly hesitant to leave. She looked lost and very alone.

  What an astonishing thing, Callie thought. The blessed were so few. That tiny little Dorf should produce Beth Ryder and this child, as well…it was so unlikely.

  An idea came to Callie. One that made her stomach lurch.

  “Is Justine Ryder your mother?”

  The girl hesitated for a long moment, then nodded.

  Callie sat back on her heels, angry at herself. Why hadn’t she thought of examining Justine’s offspring before now? Justine was Beth’s sister-in-law. She’d also turned out to be a demon. Any child she’d borne would be half-demon.

  The child wasn’t blessed. She was cursed.

  Callie stood and began backing away, heart racing. She had no way to defend herself.

  “Well, you’d best run along home,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “It’s getting late.”

  The girl looked confused. Then despair flashed across her face, brief but profound. She turned and limped off through the snow, hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

  Callie watched until the girl reached the southern end of the graveyard, turned right, and was hidden by the church building.

  She swung around and hurried back toward her car. The cemetery suddenly felt alien and threatening. She knew she wouldn’t really be safe until she was home, behind the protective barrier John had built for her.

  ***

  Callie stood in her bathroom, wrapped in a thick white bathrobe. She’d gotten home and immediately showered. Her encounter in the graveyard had left her feeling cold and tainted.

  She bent closer to the mirror and examined herself. She thought she could see every one of her thirty-four years. Her face had always been thin, but it was beginning to look a little drawn. Her hair was pale enough that the gray was hard to see, but it was there. There were dark smudges under her eyes.

  She didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams, probably. She didn’t usually remember them, but she often woke up in the night with an uneasy feeling and couldn’t get back to sleep.

  Oh well, she thought, looking away from her reflection. So I’m getting older. It won’t do to be vain.

  She headed into the kitchen and heated up some tomato soup. As she ate, she thought about the Ryder crossbreed. Obviously, the situation had to be dealt with, but Callie really had no idea what to do.

  The organization must be aware that Justine Ryder had a child, but no one had asked Callie to check up on it. Perhaps they didn’t think the girl was old enough to be a threat.

  Callie tried to remember how many children Justine had. More than one, she thought, but she wasn’t sure. They attended different churches, so Callie had only met her a few times in passing.

  Well, she would have to find out. Technically, it should be easy enough: so far as the residents of Dorf knew, Ben Ryder had been abandoned by his wife and was struggling to raise a family on his own. Calling on and offering help to someone in that situation was perfectly normal.

  On the other hand, the thought of going into a house with multiple half-demon offspring terrified her. Callie knew that, among the blessed, she was considered extremely strong, but her gift wasn’t useful for physical protection. She was defenseless.

  She decided she’d better call Theo and ask for advice, so she finished up her soup and retired to the den.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  Callie liked Theo. He wasn’t as strong as Graham, the last regional overseer, had been, but he seemed more trustworthy. She hoped he lasted a while.

  After some initial pleasantries, Callie described her encounter in the cemetery and explained her concerns about how many half-demons Justine might have spawned.

  After she finished talking, Theo was silent for a few seconds.

  When he spoke, his voice was sad and quiet.

  “Callie, these are children you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, I know. I thought this one might’ve been ten or eleven.”

  “Twelve. Tiffany’s twelve.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Callie waited, suddenly unsure of herself. Finally, Theo spoke again.

  “I sent Tiffany a birthday present in October. I knew Beth would want her to have something. I sent her a little silver locket with Beth’s picture inside.”

  Then Callie understood. “You want to let the girl alone because she’s Beth’s niece.”

  “No,” said Theo, sounding impatient, “I want to let her alone because she hasn’t committed any crimes, and there’s nothing wrong with her.”

  “She’s a demon. Well, half, anyway.”

  “Callie, you know the rest of us don’t think of the other world in religious terms.”

  She did know that. She’d heard the others talking often enough. She also knew, in her heart of hearts, that they were wrong. The other world was Hell, and its inhabitants were evil.

  That the others misperceived things didn’t bother her much. Whatever they thought they were doing, they were good people doing the Lord’s work. Good people came in all types and had all kinds of beliefs. What mattered was what they did, how they acted in the world.

  She didn’t think it would be tactful to get into all that with Theo, so instead she said, “Yes, I know,” and hoped her tone got across the fact that she continued to disagree.

  Theo got it. “I tell you what,” he said in a conciliatory tone, “wh
y don’t you do some closer surveillance of the family. Find out how many children there are and how much of their mother’s difference they may have inherited.”

  “Is that safe?”

  “You touched Tiffany. How much strength does she have?”

  Callie thought back. “Not a great deal, I don’t think. Less than you or Kara. Like Zion, maybe.”

  “Okay, so that’s moderate strength. She’s young, so she’s still coming into it and won’t have learned any workings. Unless she has a highly-focused offensive gift, I think you’re pretty safe. She may not even have manifested a gift yet.”

  “How can I be sure, though?”

  “I guess you can’t. But you do want to do something about the situation, right?”

  Callie recognized the attempt at manipulation and resented it. At the same time, Theo was right—she’d called him because she thought something should be done. But did it really have to be her?

  “Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, Callie. The situation will keep until I can get up there.”

  “When are you coming?”

  “Definitely not ‘til after Christmas. Maybe mid-January.”

  More than a month. That was surprising.

  Maybe the rumors of war were true. Something like that might keep Theo tied up.

  It’d be dangerous for him too.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll think about it. I can at least keep an eye on them from a distance.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Callie hung up.

  The call left her unsettled. She thought a nice happy movie might take her mind off things and rooted through her DVDs, but nothing caught her eye. So she puttered around the house for a while, then got in bed.

  Sleep was a long time coming.

  ***

  “You done with your holiday decorating yet, Callie?”

  Callie turned around, hands full of pamphlets. It was Suzanne.

  “Oh, yes. I don’t do a whole lot, since it’s only me.”

  “Well, I’m on my own these days too, but I can’t seem to break the habit,” Suzanne said.

  “Won’t you be visiting your son’s family for Christmas?”

  “Yes, but only for a few days. The rest of the time it’s just me and my plastic Santas.”

  Suzanne did favor Christmas lawn ornaments. She had at least a dozen out in her front yard this year, not to mention the glowing reindeer team and sled up on the roof. Her house was Christmas central for all the children in her neighborhood.

  “I think your decorations are very nice,” Callie said truthfully. She would not have wanted to draw so much attention herself, but she loved seeing people get into the Christmas spirit.

  “Thank you, dear, that’s very sweet. Speaking of decorations, did you hear that someone stole all the lights off the hedge in front of Dr. Nielson’s office Monday night? I heard Chief Michalski saying that community service…”

  Callie’s attention drifted to the minivan that had pulled into the lot. It parked in front of the drugstore, and Ben Ryder got out. Callie hadn’t been able to call his face up in her mind, but now that she saw him, she recognized him. He actually looked quite a bit like Beth. Even from a distance, she could see he had the same strikingly pale gray eyes.

  Ben opened the minivan’s side door, and children began to emerge—first Tiffany, then one, two, three more. The youngest didn’t even look kindergarten age.

  Callie found herself shaking her head at the thought of the poor man trying to take care of so many young children on his own. Then she remembered they weren’t really children.

  “Such a shame,” Suzanne said, turning to follow Callie’s line of sight. “Fine man like that, struggling alone. Not that I’m surprised, mind you. That Justine was no good. I know Betty was worried about her when she disappeared, but my money’s on her running off with another man. Women like that, motherhood’s too much for them. It’s all about the hair and the nails and the clothes. One day it’s one dirty diaper too many.”

  Callie nodded, only half listening. She was watching Ben trying to shepherd the girls into the CVS. Tiffany was standing off to the side. She was studying the ground with her hands stuffed in her pockets. Her father called her, and she looked up, catching Callie’s eye.

  Callie saw a flash of recognition cross Tiffany’s face, but the girl didn’t otherwise react. She simply stared at Callie for a moment, then looked away. Her face seemed empty.

  Suzanne cleared her throat, and Callie startled and turned her attention back to the older woman. Suzanne was studying her with a sharp eye.

  “Yes, he’s a fine man,” she said, as though Callie had asked her opinion. “Took good care of Betty after their mother passed. Always coming over to check on her, even with that Justine harping on him every minute. A good son, good brother, good father. I daresay he’ll make a better woman a good husband one of these days.”

  There was no missing what Suzanne was getting at. Callie felt herself turning bright red from the base of her throat to the roots of her hair.

  As soon as Suzanne stopped talking, Callie stammered out an apology and began packing away her pamphlets. The Big Screen boycott was important, yes, but it had suddenly become a lot more important not to be standing there when Ben came out of the CVS.

  Suzanne good-naturedly helped her pack up. Callie could hear her chuckling to herself.

  ***

  As Christmas approached, the days slowed to a crawl.

  Callie thought of herself as fortunate. She was safe and well provided for, which freed her to spend her time trying to make her little corner of the world a better place.

  But Christmas was always difficult. Old faces began to show up around town—Dorf’s erstwhile sons and daughters returning to spend time with their families, all aglow with their exciting lives in the larger world. The stores and restaurants up and down Center Street played carols relentlessly. J.T.’s went so far as to pipe Christmas tunes out onto the sidewalk. People walked through the musical cheer with smiles on their faces as they shopped for their loved ones. The schools closed for winter break, and public areas teemed with happy children.

  It made for too many reminders of past losses and of the gaps in the life she now led. As the days ticked off, Callie found it harder and harder to get a good night’s sleep. Every morning she looked in the mirror and saw herself looking more pale and tired.

  It was on such a morning that Theo called to say he was being sent to Atlanta for a month or two to help with a crisis. He wouldn’t be able to come up to Dorf after all.

  Callie wished him luck, then went back to the cookbook she was paging through. She generally tried to get her shopping done on weekday mornings, when the supermarket was quiet. But first she needed to plan meals. Meatloaf and…yes, corn chowder.

  She jotted down the ingredients she’d need, then paged on through the book absentmindedly, sipping her coffee. Eventually she found herself looking at a recipe for “Sweet-’n’-Salty Rudolphs”—chocolate-flavored Christmas cookies shaped like a deer’s face, with chocolate-chip eyes, Red Hot cinnamon candy noses, and antlers made out of pretzel pieces.

  Looking at the picture in the cookbook, Callie felt that special place in her consciousness spasm, then twist hard. She was swept into an unusually rich and specific vision: Tiffany Ryder was biting into a Sweet-’n’-Salty Rudolph. Callie could hear the sound of the girl’s teeth going through the chewy cookie, see the look of pleasure on her face as she tasted it, and feel her own face breaking into a smile in response.

  The immediacy of the image faded. Callie was left with the sense that this was something that should happen, needed to happen.

  Fear shot through her. The thought of going into Ben Ryder’s house and interacting with his half-human offspring frightened her profoundly.

  But one does not argue with a blessing. Callie took a deep breath and tried to let go of the fear.

  She bowed her head and murmured a prayer of thanks for God’s gu
idance. Then she picked up her pen and added chocolate chips and Red Hots to her shopping list.

  ***

  “Hi. I’m Callie McCallister. I’m a friend of your sister’s. I went on a cookie-making spree and thought your children might enjoy…”

  No, “spree” wasn’t right. “Spree” was for shopping. And shootings.

  Maybe “bender”? No, that was entirely the wrong connotation. She’d just say, “I’ve been making a lot of cookies.”

  Callie sighed and shifted the platter of still-warm Rudolphs from her right hand to her left. She reached up to knock on the Ryders’ front door, then thought better of it. “I’ve been making a lot of cookies” made her sound obsessive, didn’t it?

  “Hi. I’m Callie McCallister. I’m a friend of your sister’s. I thought your family might enjoy some cookies at this special time of year.”

  That sounded like a commercial.

  “Hi. I’m Callie McCallister—”

  The front door swung open, revealing Ben Ryder. He looked her up and down and said, “Can I help you?”

  Callie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She felt herself blush scarlet.

  After what felt like an eternity, she managed to say, “Cookies?”

  Ben looked from her down to the platter.

  “You made cookies for me?”

  “Yes. No. For your children.”

  “Oh.”

  They stood there awkwardly. Callie had never been so embarrassed in her life. Only the knowledge that she had to see Tiffany eat one of those cookies kept her from thrusting the platter at Ben and running off.

  Finally Ben seemed to realize that she wasn’t going to hand the cookies over and leave.

  “Would you like to come in? The girls have just had lunch. I’m sure they’d love some cookies.”

  Callie didn’t trust her voice, so she simply nodded. Ben stepped back and gestured for her to come in.

  “You’re Callie, right?”

  Callie nodded again.

  “I don’t think we’ve actually met,” Ben said, turning and walking back toward the kitchen, “but I’ve seen you out in front of Big Screen. And other places.”