Seasons Turning

by Donaya Haymond

  Jared felt unexpectedly warm and contented after the heartache of losing his mother so recently. It was probably the booze, but possibly the company. “What’s your family like?”

  William sighed. “It’s…complex. My mother is trapped in the body of a crane during the day, and my father trapped in the body of a fawn during the day. They moved to December to have nights as long as possible. My sister’s first husband, an architect, left her to pursue his dream of driving trains. Conducting trains. Whatever. She had to pay off his gambling debts. I was still at school so I couldn’t help. My uncle was eaten. Eaten! By a whale. What are the chances of that?”

  “Not high,” Jared said, trying to be supportive.

  “Ugh.” William drained his glass. “He was on a quest to find a mariner he had a grudge against. I, uh, I grew up with an irrational fear of the open sea. My brother went to be a foreign legionnaire in Drought. We never saw him again. My grandmother was forced to prostitute herself to…to…to pirates…to make ends meet…oh god…” At this William wept.

  “There, there, Will,” Jared said, tossing his glass aside and putting an arm around him. “I…I’m sure…I mean…Vincent puts a lot of faith in you. Your family must be proud – being the vizier or whatev’ of a…a…Season god. You know.”

  “So much work though…mustn’t fail him…an’, an’ he doesn’t really see me…I’m just his useful pet…he’ll never love me…he’s all moon-eyed for her…”

  Jared had what, in his sloshed mind, seemed an amazing idea. “C’mere,” he said, and he kissed William.

  William at first let out a “glurg?” of surprise, but quickly reciprocated, drawing Jared closer with eager hands. After a few minutes of imprecise fumbling, he pulled Jared and himself to a standing position. “My room.”

  “’kay,” Jared said, tripping after him in bliss.

  The room was tidy, black and white in scheme, hospital corners on the tucked-in bedsheets. A few paper snowflakes with ‘To an Excellent Fellow’ written on them dangled on strings over the small writing desk. There was another fireplace here, alight, and hot water bottles under the covers.

  As William extracted Jared from his layers of clothing, Jared held up a finger. “Wait. Wait. Important.”

  “Yes?”

  “What?”

  “You said something was important.”

  “Oh yeah. Protection. You have it?”

  “Uh…been a while.”

  “Nonono. No can do. Hands only, ‘kay? ‘M a nurse.”

  “I’m magic.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  “‘M clean – swear. ‘Cause I’m magic. Albino magic.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Okay, maybe in your world it’s different, but...please anyway. ‘M a nurse. You seen what the diseases …”

  William kissed him again. “All right. We’ll make do.” He unzipped Jared’s jeans with his teeth.

  “Mmm, good teeth,” Jared said. He really liked how the curtains looked. He bet they were super soft.

  A laugh. William slipped a hand inside Jared’s Spider-Man boxers. “Good hand?”

  Jared shivered. “Ahhh, yes, yes…lemme…don’ wanna spoil your nice tux…”

  With a nod, William stood and carefully removed his clothes, folding them and placing them on the desk. “Cleanliness and godliness.”

  “S’ry ‘m not a god.”

  “S’okay. You’re cute.”

  ****

  Lynne paused in her diatribe about the sanctity of all life and coughed. “So…think the boys are fornicating?”

  Vincent popped a frosted petit four cake into his mouth. “Mmm hmm.”

  ****

  Twig waited until the old man with the top hat was asleep and customers had stopped staring and poking at her. Then she started chewing at the bars of her cage. He’d simply trapped her in wicker. With determination Twig could probably make it out in a few hours.

  She didn’t have a solid plan for what to do after that, but she wanted to find her creator and make herself known. Then she trusted to chance. As for finding her creator, perhaps she could find a carriage or train headed for Summer, and hide in someone’s luggage.

  Off in the corner, the depressing pig crooned softly to itself. She regretted not having the strength to set it free.

  ****

  Kira considered it her next order of business to tour the castle. She fetched the shotgun for further reassurance.

  “Better do the lower levels first, in case someone’s there,” Kira muttered.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Gwen asked.

  “No, I need you to deal with getting Naomi sent to Mother and hiring the new staff. I’m no good with that. You’ve got – how much experience?”

  Gwen gave a slight smile. “Three hundred years.”

  After two hours’ examination of the accounting books, Gwen heard the sound of three gunshots. Then came the sound of simultaneous sobbing and fighting back vomit. She remembered her first days in her job and resolved to say nothing about it.

  Kira appeared a little while later, unsteady on her feet. “I’ve done some remodeling. Think it’s bedtime ‘fore I start gettin’ clumsy-like.”

  “Sounds good, sweetheart.” As she watched her go, Gwen wondered when and how she would tell Kira the situation she had put the world in. She wondered whether she’d ever forgive herself for what needed to be done.

  ****

  In Buenos Aires, Argentina, a sudden profusion of firework explosions burst from the chests of youths who had low self-esteem but great hidden potential. None of them suffered physical harm and in fact ran out into public spaces, dancing with joy. All resolved to make something more out of their lives.

  A bystander reported that it looked, “like a music video or something.”

  ****

  The kidnappers kept Amber drugged, outwardly fearing her power. During the times she was conscious she felt peaceful and dozy from all the sedatives, without any cares hindering her from daydreams. She couldn’t see anything, but this didn’t bother her.

  Amber thought about how Lynne saved her from the crazed tyrant who imprisoned her on suspicion of being a spy. Amber simply slipped through the dimensional barriers by accident. Lynne was colder and prouder then, a former professional burglar and soldier of fortune. Where was Lynne, anyway? She said she’d be gone for just a few days. Amber wasn’t sure what time it was. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. She seemed to be sleepy a lot lately. That was fine. She drifted away again.

  ****

  Rain landed on a mountainside to fill her water bottle and rest. That damn falcon had ripped out several of her feathers and torn the skin on her right thigh. Perhaps she should wear more clothes when she flew, but they got in the way. Good thing the Fae didn’t get infected as easily as humans did.

  Her necklace was not only a small dagger, useful in a variety of situations, but it also divined the location of Queen Mab and of each of the Seasons. That was how she was able to find them reliably as long as they were in this dimension.

  Damn. Lynne of Spring was in Winter’s realm. Not only would she have to put some clothes on, but she’d have to deal with Vincent pining after her. She’d clearly stated she was interested in no one beyond friendly acquaintance or a quick rough-and-tumble. Vincent thought he could change her in that regard. With a sigh, Rain found a nice ledge to leap off.

  Ten

  A Winter’s Tale

  “Oh god, my everything,” Jared whimpered the next morning.

  He opened his eyes to see William in a chair a few feet away, in a black silk dressing gown. William was combing his white hair and gazing fondly at Jared.

  “Would you like some breakfast? I can order it. My lord won’t be expecting me to report for another two hours, not after the overtime I put in.”

  “I hope you don’t mean you’re supposed to sleep with his guests,” Jared said.

  “The word is ‘entert
ain’. I have a lot of discretion as to how.” When Jared raised his eyebrows William chuckled. “No, I don’t make it a habit. Breakfast?”

  “I’m not really hungry. I could use some ginger ale and any over-the-counter pain reliever you might have.”

  “Quite.” William pulled a velvet rope hanging from the ceiling in a pattern Jared deciphered as Morse code.

  “Where are my clothes?”

  “I sent them to be washed and pressed. Relax for a while.” William put the comb aside, perfectly parallel to all the other oddments on his dresser, and clambered back into bed. “I trust everything is more or less satisfactory?”

  “Uh…yeah…I mean you’re great and everything. I’m just not sure how I do a Walk of Shame while in someone else’s dimension.” Despite the pain and nausea, Jared was happy to snuggle against William’s chest. “I hope you – it was nice, and you’re nice, but I have to go home soon, or else I’ll get stuck when the walls close. I’m not a- a- whatchamacallit.”

  An arm wrapped around him. “Commuter. That’s all right. I don’t really have time for genuine relationships with this job. Always have to be at his beck and call.”

  “Do you love him? Last night you said…”

  William smiled sadly and wound his fingers through the tight curls of Jared’s hair. “What’s that symbol tattooed over your hip?”

  “That’s an Ankh. It’s ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic of death and rebirth. I got it in college. They say to beware of geeks bearing glyphs.”

  “What?”

  “Silly joke. There’s a saying: you should beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”

  “Mm?” William’s smile was kind but vague.

  “Never mind.”

  Then the door slammed open with such force that it bounced back from wall in recoil. Jared squawked and pulled the covers up to his neck. Lynne stormed into the room, fully dressed in faux-leather boots and a gray canvas and oilcloth coat. She looked ready to pull someone’s teeth out with pliers.

  “Jared! We need to go!”

  “Sorry, um, uh, I’m kind of naked.”

  “Get some clothes then. I’m sure they have plenty to give you, even if your luggage got lost in the crash.”

  “I’ll send for some,” William reassured him, rising and pulling on the cord again.

  Lynne paced, hands clenched. “Amber’s been kidnapped. Rain brought the ransom note. The bastards are gonna regret this for the rest of their miserable lives. I took classes in torture growing up. Got high scores, too.”

  “What do they want?”

  “One of the female Seasons to give themselves up – to be killed. I’m the obvious one, but they’ve oh so considerately suggested that I could hand over Gwen or Kira instead. Which I wouldn’t do. Neither deserves it.”

  “You’re giving yourself up?”

  She snorted. “Not hardly. We need a plan. Then we will kill those brigands...by inches.”

  ****

  “Did you have a good night’s rest, Kira?” Gwen asked over pancakes. They were eating in a long, narrow dining hall with tall stained glass windows depicting forests and gardens. Soft sunlight filtered through with all the gaiety of a refreshed world after heavy rain. Kira and Gwen sat on either end, flanked by Melanie and Siobhan. Melanie was insisting on eating everything with her fingers, so excited to have hands again. Siobhan was still depressed about how much time she had lost as a prisoner.

  Kira stabbed a sausage with a knife. She wasn’t in as good a mood as the weather suggested. Now that practice taught her how to separate the two, she didn’t want to punish everyone else for her emotions. “Not bad. I wouldn’t have minded saying goodbye to Naomi though. You could have woken me.”

  Gwen hid her face in a napkin for a few seconds, managing to make it look nonchalant. “Sorry. She was extremely eager to leave. Radcliff will pay her guides when she arrives there safely.”

  “Mm.” Kira had to admit that, messed-up as this whole business was, she had enjoyed her second tour of the castle after a hot morning bath. Never had a hot bath from a faucet before.

  Kira had cleaned out and obliterated all the dungeons. Afterwards she simply wandered. The place was as labyrinthine as a dreamer’s mind. Spiral staircases led to narrow garrets filled with old books, secret doors behind tapestries led to fountain-filled courtyards. A fireman’s pole inside a bedroom closet led to a currently abandoned bistro-style restaurant. Best of all, she found an armory full of all sorts of arcane weapons, most in need of maintenance. Many of the rooms were empty, given the eagerness of the staff to flee.

  Kira opened her mouth to ask what they should do next. Then Gwen jumped up and started clapping. “Happy birthday!”

  One of the very few servants remaining entered. He carried a lemon-custard cake with green icing. The cake, which had a single lit candle, was the size of Kira’s head. Siobhan and Melanie clapped, an odd but enthusiastic sound.

  Gwen saw Kira’s expression and put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

  Kira’s voice quavered. “There’s something you’re not telling me. You wanted me to rescue Naomi, give her that happiness, and reunite her with mother.”

  “Of…of course. It was only right.”

  “Are you going to blow out the candle?” Melanie asked. The cigarette burns on her upper arms suggested why she was anxious around fire.

  Kira continued, “You were uncommonly eager because something else is going on with the Seasonal imbalance, am I right?”

  “Kira, this is your day. Enjoy it. We’ll talk about—”

  “It’s on your face. It’s in how you move and talk. Your kindness is the kindness the rider gives the wounded horse that’s gotta be shot.” A gust of magically created wind blew out the candle. Kira rose to her feet. “You know I have to die to make things right. Have I struck on the notion?”

  Slowly and sadly, Gwen said, “The imbalance of the Seasons also causes portals to open wide, to all people and things. Chaos will leak in both directions and harm will come to innocents. The last time this happened, we discovered Radcliff possessed a gift for predicting when, where, and in what order the portals will open. He retains it still. Thirty days from now, a portal in the House of Assassins will open up to Next Door’s outer space.”

  Kira stood stock still for a moment. All eyes settled upon her. Then she sat back down and cut a slice of cake. “I should enjoy things while I can, then.”

  Siobhan looked as if she was going to resume crying. “Kira’s going to die?”

  “Want a slice?”

  Gwen kneaded Kira’s shoulders. “Are you…are you in shock?”

  Kira savored the taste of buttercream frosting. “Give me a week to put myself together, cross off my bucket list, and we’ll find a nice man to kill me.”

  “You’re taking this really well,” Gwen said.

  “What, do you want me to scream and weep about how terrible it all is? Life. Is. Unfair. I’ve known this since I was old enough to tell time. Now let me eat my goddamn cake.”

  ****

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Vincent asked Rain. He leaned against the door of her official guest room, the space full of velvets and gilding. He kept moving his hands from a clasped position to behind his back, then to his hips, then fumbling for a cigarette. He quit smoking sixty years ago. It wasn’t going to kill him, but he hated how it stained his teeth.

  “Some privacy, thanks,” Rain said, rubbing irritably at the bandage covering the scratches on her leg. Her wings were shedding a little thanks to the falcon attack, but they were basically intact. Vincent knew she wasn’t good at affection. Despite this, she’d been sufficiently worried about Amber to fly here as fast as she could, rather than tending to her injuries first.

  Vincent coughed. “The offer still stands.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I like my freedom, and you know Mab would object.”

  “I’ve never been particularly worried about Mab’s opinion, even if she’s over a tho
usand.”

  “She’s one of few people whose opinion does matter to me. I think you’re stymied there, buddy. Now have you got the train fare for me, Lynne, and that guy she’s demanding we take along? If I didn’t know better I’d think she had a crush on him.”

  “The Lady Spring will do as she chooses wherever she goes,” Lynne said with icy imperialism, appearing at the door.

  Vincent immediately stood upright and brushed off his black designer suit.

  “They showed me Amber. She’s been drugged but there’s not a scratch on her.”

  “I will take that into consideration.”

  Jared poked his head in. “Whoa! Naked winged lady!”

  “Hi. I could use something to eat before we go.” Rain gave Vincent a preemptive glare before he could offer anything she wanted, anything at all.

  “William had someone pack us pasta bowls. Now let’s get out of this frozen wasteland. No offense.” Lynne patted Vincent on the shoulder. “Thanks for saving us.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Vincent said, wishing he did have a cigarette.

  ****

  Perhaps it was fate. Once Twig freed herself from the old man’s wagon, she learned the caravan was parked within sight of a train being refueled. She hid in the baggage hold.

  She would know when she was near her creator.

  ****

  Young Aurora Driver-Naught was a student at the University of Centralia, an eccentric place even for the Temperate Zone.

  “I try not to let sanity interfere with a realistic viewpoint,” Aurora concluded at the end of her speech. Half of her classmates were asleep, a quarter half-asleep, and a quarter wished they were still sleeping. The teacher gave her a grade Aurora was fairly certain had been determined before she gave her presentation. Miss Manchester probably kept a notebook studded with resolutions like, “Bobby: Generally gets a C. May give him a C-plus if he actually speaks above a mumble.”

  It was not a good day. When she awoke that morning, she reflected on how cat ownership increased exponentially. The Driver-Naughts began with a kitten, and then adopted two more, and so on until they were no longer sure how many they had. The first four shirts she pulled out of the drawer were so coated with cat hair she could practically hear them purring.