* * *
Ivy grinned through her wheezing as she shifted her load into the crook of her arm and knocked. Thankfully, the door opened after only one round this time, though Win looked even less impressed.
“Winnie,” she started. “Can I call you Winnie?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Is it short for Winifred?”
“Nope.”
“Will you tell me what it's short for?”
“Not a chance.”
Silence yawned between them. Ivy frowned, trying to remember the speech she'd prepared on the way.
“You know, with that cargo ship you hauled up here yesterday, I'm not gonna need anything for at least two years.”
“I thought you ordered bi-annually. Doesn't that mean every two years?”
Win scowled. “No, it means twice a year.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I'm sure!”
“Then what would be the word for every two years?”
“It—” she started, blinking and screwing her eyes shut. “Is this some form of hazing? I told you yesterday, I don't want to join your weird vegetable cult.”
“Well then,” Ivy grinned, lifting her laden tray, “you'll be happy to hear that there are no vegetables in these pancakes.” Waggling her eyebrows, she shoved the tray into Win's chest. “Just triple berry and fresh-ground cinnamon. No frills.”
Win stared at the plate like she wanted to set it on fire. “And what are those?”
“Those,” Ivy peered over the tray, deflating, “are banana halves decorated like dolphins. Yeah, I forgot to take those off. The point is, though, I have a proposition for you. I was thinking, we have our monthly craft bee coming up, and we're still looking for a host. I was going to go with my Bee a Friend theme if no one else volunteered, but I think people are getting tired of it. Anyway, I thought you might be more comfortable meeting people in your own home, and a craft bee would be perfect for you, don't you think?”
Win folded her arms. “Why?”
“You know … like witchcraft.”
“Does everything have to be a pun with you?”
Ivy bit her lip. “If the cauldron fits?”
The door slammed shut between them so fast it rattled on its hinges.
“Oh come on, that was charm-ing!” Ivy called after the witch. Sighing, she turned and walked down the steps. “At least she took the pancakes.”
* * *
Two days later, Win opened the door to an empty doorstep.
“… Ivy?”
Without warning, Ivy hung her head down over the edge of the roof. “Morning, sunshine!”
“Aaah!” Win shrieked, grabbing her rifle by the neck and swinging it overhead.
“Hey, whoa!” Ivy pulled back, reaching a palm out to placate her. “Before you go to that place, let me explain what we're doing.”
Win spun around on the doorstep, gripping the rifle in both hands. “We?”
Swinging her legs over the roof's edge, she hopped down. “I noticed that a few of your solar tiles were cracked, so I thought I'd recruit a few volunteers to help me replace them.”
Win looked up to see four nervous teenagers clutching at a glittering green roof.
“Okay, so once we got up there, I saw that all your tiles were out-of-date, so we installed a new system. It's great though, trust me. These are at least twenty-five percent more efficient.”
Win's mouth twisted towards her nose. “I like it dim.”
“Also, why don't you fix your window? It lets all your heat out.”
“I like it cold.”
Hands on her hips, Ivy met her frown for frown. “Are you always this inflexible?”
A brow twitched up. “I can be plenty flexible.”
Ivy eyed her warily as she pointed the rifle towards the quivering teenagers and flicked it towards the sky. Groaning and popping, the roof began detaching from the frame, curling back like a taco until the four slid off, fruitlessly scrabbling at the smooth tiles for purchase.
Though not quite a smile, Win looked smugger than ever. Ivy squinted. “That's really bad for the tiles, Win. They're brand new.”
* * *
Ivy drummed on the door in a frantic beat.
“What?” Win called from inside.
“Come quick! I need your help!”
A muffled grunt. “You need more help than I can give.”
“Everyone in town—they're cursed!”
“I'll say, if they're living next door to you.”
Ivy kicked the door. “Dammit, Win!”
* * *
Ivy paced the path she'd cleared in her cluttered office, pulling a magenta marker from her hair. “There's something I'm missing here …”
She stared up at the whiteboard, almost completely hidden behind color-coded diagrams, order receipts dating back seven years, printed wiki pages on witch social mores, and her top twenty “can't fail” pancake recipes.
“Ivy, why don't you leave the poor girl alone?” Joe said from the doorway. “She obviously doesn't want people poking around up there or she wouldn't be keeping dragons, would she?”
Not bothering to turn around, Ivy drew a loud pink line from one side of the board to the other. “That's just gossip, Joe. You know how people in this town are when they get an idea in their heads. They just can't let it go.”
“Imagine that.” Sighing, he rubbed at his bushy white eyebrows. “Why don't you go see some of the folk in town who'd take more kindly to your help? As in, everyone else? A wet cat, maybe?”
“That's who I'm thinking of here, Joe.” Ivy brandished her marker almost like a wand. “Everyone. All of us. She's lived alone up there for how many years, and as a witch? She probably has skills that would revolutionize how this town runs. And I know there's something we can do for her too. I just have to figure out …” she stepped back from the board, trying to connect the dots, “what that is.”
* * *
It was late afternoon. The wind was growing teeth and Ivy's hair stuck up in every direction, but she didn't care.
“I know you're in there,” she called, landing slow, baritone blows against the door. “Come on, I just want to talk! Please?”
There was no answer.
“Win, are you okay?” Ivy pressed her ear against the door. “Are you hurt? If you can reach a broom, bang it once for yes and twice for no.”
A few faint scuffles sounded in the distance, but nothing else.
Stomach knotting with worry, she scanned the area around the door, not quite knowing what she was looking for. A spare key? A note? Signs of fae abduction?
“Aha!” she exclaimed, grasping a doorbell tassel she hadn't noticed before. “She's got to hear this.”
Ivy gave the tassel a good yank, and it yelped.
Down with it came a small body covered in bottle-green scales.
Diving forward, she caught the creature in her arms before it could hit the ground. It was no bigger than a scrawny cat, head lolling on an awkwardly long neck as it squirmed in her unfamiliar arms. Its wings were no help, one stuck in the crook of Ivy's elbow, the other flapping like a wagging tail.
“Shh, it's okay, little one,” she murmured, loosening her hold and stroking the creature's cool snout. With a tiny whine, it looked up at her with milky white eyes, sniffing and snorting puffs of air against her fingers. “Hey, that tickles!”
Apparently deciding to approve of Ivy, the creature dug its claws into her shirt and wriggled its head into her front pocket, poking around curiously. “Oh, uh—okay, that's fine. That's just—”
Her words cut off as the door wrenched open. Ivy spun around and saw her own look of surprise mirrored in Win's face, both of them frozen in a tense, inscrutable moment. Ivy opened her mouth to say something, but the only thing she could think of was that she'd never seen Win's hair. Usually buried under wooly hats and coats, her long black locks hung free around her shoulders, which were covered in only one layer of plaid flannel. It
gave Ivy the odd feeling she was seeing Win naked.
“Sorry! I was just … ”
“Princess Emmie,” Win cut in, rushing forward to scoop the creature from Ivy's arms. It whined as its head was pulled from her shirt pocket, lint dangling from its mouth. “Thanks,” Win murmured, cradling the bundle of scales to her chest. “She's been missing since yesterday, and she can't see yet, so …”
Ivy nodded, head foggy and off-kilter. Princess what?
“I think she got your arm,” Ivy heard.
“Hmm?”
“You're bleeding a little.”
Ivy jumped at the feel of a warm hand on her elbow. She looked down in surprise, hardly noticing the angry red scratch or trickle of crimson sliding down her forearm.
“Come on. I'll get you a bandage.”
Following the tug forward, Ivy found herself standing in a small living room, tidy but for several mangled sticks and feathers littered across the furniture.
“Wait here,” Win said, disappearing down the hallway. Ivy stood in the middle of the room, eyes roaming the dozens of half-melted candles lining the shelves and potted herbs perched around an overstuffed chair covered in mismatched patches. An algae lamp burbled in the corner, bathing everything in a soft green glow.
And just like standing still in a garden long enough brings the birds and butterflies closer, several curious snouts came peeking out from open drawers and behind stacks of books, upside down from the rafters and around the open doors. Ivy stared back at them breathlessly, afraid to move as though the scene around her might shatter.
“Sorry for the mess,” Win said, stomping back into the room. As soon as the dragons saw her, they pounced, weaving through her feet, clawing their way up her pants, flapping their stubby wings for attention. Win shooed them off, motioning for Ivy to hold her arm out.
“Don't worry about it. I do the same to my pencils.” Ivy laughed, with just an edge of hysteria. Win's hands were rough but gentle as she smoothed the bandage around Ivy's arm. She swallowed. “So … these are your dragons?”
“Either that or really messed up cats.”
Ivy nodded, not registering the joke. “Is this a dream?” Win pulled the wand from her rifle and stuck Ivy with the tip. “Ow, hey! I'm injured!”
One corner of Win's lips twitched upwards. “Doesn't look like a dream to me.”
“You could've just said that,” Ivy groused, making a show of rubbing her bandaged arm.
Win raised an eyebrow. “And when have you ever actually listened to a word I said?”
“I—when …” Ivy opened her mouth and closed it, settling for crossing her arms and sticking out her chin indignantly.
“Oh right, I forgot about that time,” Win teased, but there was no edge to it.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, until Win cleared her throat and looked away. Ivy was about to take the hint and excuse herself when Win cut in.
“Since you're here, you might as well make yourself useful.” She moved to a cupboard, grabbing two pairs of gloves and walking towards the back door. “How are you with a table saw?”
“I …” Ivy blinked, then rushed to follow her. “I'm great with all standard power tools. I actually led a remedial carpentry workshop for seniors last year. We built birdhouses.”
Win snorted. “Grab a hammer before I change my mind.”
* * *
Over the next two weeks, Ivy and Win cut shelves for the broom shed, scraped the moss and algae from the greenhouse's glass panels, repainted the house (the same color, despite Ivy's many suggestions), and re-attached the warped roof. One afternoon, after a crash course in whittling ritual spoons, Ivy was spread out on a blanket on the grassy bluff behind the house. Two chipped mugs of cold tea sat beside her, and a half dozen dragons milled around, climbing over her legs and snapping at each other in between brief naps sprawled across her lap. “You're nothing like I thought,” Ivy whispered as she stroked down a knobby, ruby-ridged back. The dragon's forked tongue hung out of her mouth, vibrating with gentle snores.
Behind her, footsteps swished through the grass until something soft hit the back of her head.
“Here, you're getting your fancy clothes dirty.”
“Hey!” Ivy squawked, pulling the worn plaid work shirt off her shoulder. Win plucked two dragons from the blanket and sat down beside her, setting them back on her lap. They snuffled and yawned, but didn't bother waking up. “Thanks, but it's just an old t-shirt from the Center. I don't mind.”
Win looked down and read the print. “Fourth Annual Gluten-Free Bake-Off for Fae Food Addiction Awareness.”
“One of my first events,” Ivy grinned. “Still, not fancy.”
Looking over, Ivy watched as Win flicked a finger over her tea, tendrils of steam rising instantly.
“Whoa.” Ivy's eyes widened, shoving her mug into Win's space. “Can you do mine too?”
Win rolled her eyes good-naturedly, nodding to the spare shirt. “Put it on anyway so I can forget the only reason you're here is to brainwash me into your creepy togetherness cult. You're actually good at home repair. I'd rather not use a banishing spell on you just yet.”
Fighting back a smile, Ivy narrowed her eyes. “You know, most people would agree I have more reason to worry here, sitting with a witch, buried in dragons, out where no one can hear my screams.”
“Hmm, that gives me an idea …” Win tapped her chin thoughtfully. Ivy whacked her on the arm. “Hey, I was out here minding my own business until you showed up. And kept showing up. Again, and again, and again.”
“All right, I get it,” Ivy huffed. “But you can't blame all of Sunnydale for that.”
“No, but I can blame them for thinking their pumpkins' honor is worth assault charges.”
Ivy's shoulders slumped. “I should've never told you about Squash the Competition.”
“It's not like I was surprised. Disturbed, yes. Reaffirmed in my hermitude, absolutely. But not surprised.”
“What about all the good they do for each other though?” Ivy pressed. “Crop sharing so everyone gets balanced meals even if some of their plants didn't make it. Family dinners the whole town is invited to. That's what I love about Sunnydale and what we do at the Center. Nobody's left out, because everyone has something to offer. A person's … uniqueness just means there's more we can learn from them. Don't you think?”
Beside her, Win stared at the dozing dragon in her lap and tucked it closer to her body. “I don't think everyone sees it that way.”
“Maybe they don't ramble on as much as I do, but—”
“No, Ivy,” Win cut in. “There are still weeds, still pests. Doesn't matter how long they've been there. If they're not what people want, they're intruders.”
Ivy blinked, remembering the stories of the vicious beasts of Bann Hill warding off visitors. She shook her head. “People just don't know you. It's not like they think you're evil or anything. They just think you're a lot more intimidating than you are.” Win's head shot up. “Not that you're not very scary when you want to be,” Ivy amended.
Smiling weakly, Win let her gaze fall back to her lap. “Yeah, well, that's the price of these guys.”
“What do you mean?”
Win shifted and squirmed until a sleeping dragon's disapproving chirp stilled her. Sighing, she leaned back in defeat. “I grew up in this tiny village over the next hill,” she said. “There were other witches besides me. A few actually, and they had a big influence in town. But they were all water witches, whereas I”—she gestured toward their still-steaming mugs—“am more inclined to fire.”
“That's why you get along so well with the dragons,” Ivy finished, eyes wide in wonder. “It's almost like you're one of them.”
On cue, the dragon in Ivy's lap hiccupped, spitting a tiny fireball into a lock of her hair. Win sighed and dunked it into Ivy's mug until it fizzled out, a fresh plume of steam rising.
“Couldn't you have done that with magic?”
“Pro
bably,” Win conceded. “Anyway, people in my old village had this idea that dragons were really destructive and menacing.” She waved her hand like she was batting a fly. “They were hicks. They loved all those stupid stories where the dragons trapped princesses and hoarded gold, you know? Never mind they were hunted almost to extinction and those 'brave knights' bought their scales for armor.” She blew out a breath. “When they found out I had a 'connection' with them, as they called it, things got weird. Not that they would confront me, of course. Couldn't shatter the illusion of their perfect, harmonious community.” Win barked a hollow laugh. “Except that kid who found me out here after I moved and shattered my window. He must've missed that meeting.”
Ivy's eyes bugged. She whipped around to look at the house as if the vandal would still be there. “That's why your window's broken?”
Win nodded.
Anger swirling in her stomach, Ivy sputtered. “What was his name? Where does he live?”
“Ivy …”
“I will hunt him down, Win.” She leaned in close, pointing a finger at Win's nose. “I will hunt him down, and I will make him pay. I'm licensed to drive a backhoe and I know where to get a lot of goat manure.”
“Really? I would've guessed you'd go after their zoning permits.”
“I can do that too. Hit 'em from all angles.”
The corner of Win's mouth twitched. “Well that's … nice, but it was years ago.”
“Then why don't you get it fixed?”
Win shrugged. “Whenever I start thinking going into Sunnydale might be a good idea, it reminds me. I'll do whatever I need to protect these dragons.”
Ivy leaned back as it dawned on her. “You let the rumors fly on purpose,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Hey, it keeps people out.” Glancing sideways at Ivy, she smirked. “Well, people with any sense, at least.”
Bypassing that comment, Ivy picked the dragon off her lap, ignoring its sleepy protests to face Win. “Listen, you have nothing to worry about. I know the people of Sunnydale can seem a bit eccentric, but they're reasonable when they need to be. They're not hateful, and they certainly wouldn't hurt your dragons.”
Wings of Renewal: A Solarpunk Dragon Anthology Page 36