by Luna Lindsey
Just outside camp, Ezra leaned against a tree and played with Jett’s earring in the darkness. Some kind of magic, she’d said. She could take him in, take care of him, teach him things, she’d said. Fiz seemed happy.
They didn’t seem like angels, yet they didn’t seem like bad people either. Elder Noah believed in him, too, defended him to Elder Isaiah. Maybe it was a good thing to have two homes.
When he slipped into the tent, Elder Noah was sitting up in his sleeping bag.
“Where did you go?”
“J-Just out to use the la–”
“Latrine? For hours? I don’t think so.” Elder Noah crossed his arms.
“I… I just went for a walk, to clear my head. To pray. And think about all these things that are happening.”
“More lies? It’s enough to make me think they’re right. I defended you!”
Ezra held up his hands as if warding off a physical blow. “I went out to pray. I swear.”
“You can pray in bed. Haven’t you been paying attention? God is everywhere. If you don’t need a church building, then you don’t need to go for any walks.”
Someone approached behind Ezra. The flap opened.
“So the prodigal son has returned,” Elder Isaiah growled. “Where were you?”
“He insists he went to pray.” Elder Noah glanced to the side, his arms still crossed.
“I did! I went for a walk in the woods and prayed. With all that’s gone on, I needed to be alone.”
Isaiah looked at Noah. “Didn’t I tell you this would happen? Strange behavior? Lies?”
Elder Noah nodded slowly. “It is as you said. He did lie. At first he said he’d gone to use the latrine. Now he says he prayed. Seems like he’s still lying.”
Elder Isaiah leaned in towards Ezra. “You know who the father of lies is, don’t you boy?”
“Y-Yes, Elder.”
“Are you with the devil?” Elder Isaiah asked, point blank.
“I… I… don’t know.” Ezra stared at the sleeping bags strewn across the tent floor. They’d found him out.
“Well if you don’t know, we don’t either. You’re under confinement, awaiting a Righteous Trial of Love.”
“I wasn’t under confinement earlier?”
Elder Isaiah huffed and left the tent. Ezra heard at least one other person outside the tent, but they didn’t enter.
Elder Noah sounded sad. “You’re under guard until we can decide what to do with you. I trusted you. I defended you. This suspicious behavior makes it very difficult to believe you’re on our side.”
“But…”
“Just… shush and go to sleep.” Elder Noah lay back down, and Ezra wiggled into his sleeping bag.
He thought about Jett and Fiz. They didn’t believe he was a demon. They said he was some kind of special person.
Prophet, or no. Demon, or no, Ezra wanted out. He wanted to be alone again, on the streets, not being pulled this way or that by all these people who said they only wanted to help.
Surely God would understand if he went out on his own. Didn’t John the Baptist wander in the desert? And Moses, too, he remembered. Maybe both of them got sick and tired of being told what to do, what to think, got tired of everyone doubting them, so they split, got away from it all so they could think for themselves.
Ezra didn’t need any of these people. First chance he got, he would escape, and strike out on his own.
CHAPTER 19
*
SANDY STEPPED INTO JINA’S ROOM on the second floor.
Jina dropped her pencil onto a piece of furniture that passed for a desk and adjusted the volume on her music. “Hey Sandy. You look like hell. Sit down and rest.” She motioned towards the thrift-store sofa piled with unfolded laundry. There was a little space to sit on the end, but Sandy kept to her feet.
She ran her fingers through her hair and thought about taking a quick shower. Or getting more coffee. “I’ll have time to sit later. I need you in the lab.”
“Sorry, I’ve got to get ready for my gig.” Jina held the guitar close to her as she rifled through pages of wrinkled handwritten lyrics on her desk.
“A gig? No… No, we need a scrying spell, so we can watch that faerie kid we found yesterday. But we can’t cast a scrying spell without glamour, so we need valve wards.”
“Can’t scry without a true name, either. Did you think about that?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I just need you for a couple of hours.”
“It will take longer than that, Sandy. I’ve already worked on that problem this week. It’s not as easy as it sounds, letting glamour out without leaking the faerie’s own magic. Anyway, you said you dropped Ezra off in the woods. He’s in a cult, so he’s not going anywhere. The internet says these Wanderers set up camp for months at a time.”
“Yes, a cult. I have to get him away from those people.”
Jina looked up from her riffling. A bunch of the pages on top were covered in doodles of hearts: big ones, little ones, hearts with arrows punching through them, and hearts with rainbows shooting out. “Technically, that’s kidnapping,” she said.
No, not kidnapping. People were kidnapped. Faeries were extracted. Neutralized. “Ever since I told you about him, you’ve been resisting me.”
Jina set her guitar down. “Yeah, I guess I have. It worries me, Sandy. What crime did this kid commit?”
“He’s not human. That monster could hurt someone.” How could Jina even question this simple fact?
“Maybe,” Jina said. She reached into the side pocket of her cargo pants and came up empty.
“You quit smoking,” Sandy reminded her.
“Old habits,” Jina said, patting her empty pocket. “Listen, I know Scarf could hurt someone. But a teenager? We’re supposed to protect the weak, and maybe, sometimes, faeries are weaker than we are.”
Sandy’s body felt heavy suddenly. She sat on the edge of the arm of the couch. “We don’t know he’s a teenager. The Leanan Sidhe would disguise herself as a beautiful maiden and lure men to their deaths. Elf kings would lay out gorgeous banquets for hungry travelers. They can trick us into thinking anything. We can’t let him prevent us from doing what we must.”
“We don’t know anything for sure. At least we know for sure Scarf is dangerous. Isn’t that what the Ordo is for? To protect each other?”
Sandy thought of that red building, where Scarf lived, that graffiti face that seemed to laugh at her.
“That’s why you should stay here tonight,” Sandy said, standing. “It isn’t safe out there.”
“I can take care of myself,” Jina said, pushing her chair back. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
Sandy’s jaw tightened. Her problems felt so enormous, and her position so hopeless. Sandy was the stable one, the smart one, so Jina should follow orders.
Jina started packing her guitar and papers into a case. “I’ve spent every day this week plus last weekend and a few nights helping you. About seventy hours. I’ll work on the valve again tomorrow. For now, I have commitments, and frankly, enjoyments to attend to, so I can stay sane.”
Sandy couldn’t let Jina go. Not now. There was too much to do, and she couldn’t do it alone. “Please stay.” Her voice sounded weaker than she’d intended.
Jina reached out and gently touched Sandy’s arm. “Get some rest while I’m gone. How can you save the world like this? Do something fun. See a movie, go shopping, eat out, anything.”
“No!”
Jina stepped back and looked her up and down. “I think you’re too afraid to leave the house.”
“No, that’s not it. There’s just too much… We’ve got to…”
“Hey.” Jina softened her voice and wrapped her arms around Sandy. A surge of tears rose up from the depths and threatened to overrun the dual barriers of denial and alcohol.
“There’s more to life than what happened to us eight years ago,” Jina said softly.
“No, you were just lucky,” Sandy said.
She grit her teeth and rolled her shoulders, brushing Jina away. “It wasn’t as bad for you. That’s why you can dance forward, like nothing happened.”
The flood gates were back in place. Emergency averted.
Jina shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re drunk. And when was the last time you slept?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Jina said. “Honestly? You’re a wreck. We need a strong leader. The demons you have to fight first are inside you, and you can’t do that until you stop drinking.”
“I am a good leader. Hollis and Gretel think so.”
Jina held up her palms. “I hear you. I just… maybe you’d think more clearly if you weren’t running from it.”
“Running from what?” Sandy asked.
Jina fished around in a desk drawer. “From this.” She held out a card which read, RAINN Sexual Assault Hotline.
Sandy’s pulse quickened when she touched the card. “You know I can’t call these things.” She couldn’t just call up and tell them fairytales. It was probably against the law. Not to mention embarrassing.
“Why not? They’re anonymous. You don’t have to be specific about who your rapist was or talk about the illusions or anything.”
That didn’t seem very effective. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do. I was raped once, too,” Jina said.
“Yes, but you were in middle school. That doesn’t count.”
Jina blinked rapidly, then smirked. “I’m trying to help, and you’re stabbing me with daggers.”
Sandy sighed. Of course she was trying to help. Maybe in unproductive, waste of time ways, but her heart was in the right place. “Fine, I’ll keep the card. I won’t promise to call.”
“I get it. It’s hard. Just keep it by your bedside, you know, in case you have nothing better to do. Or if things get so bad the Scotch doesn’t help anymore…”
Sandy turned without listening anymore and headed down the stairs, staring at the card and trying to avoid every feeling it represented. Feelings she’d rather not feel. Maybe later, but not now, not today, when she had so much to do.
Her thoughts all came in a jumbled rush.
They had to watch Ezra. But they didn’t know his true name.
Where was Haun now? Was he watching her now?
If they could store glamour long-term in the generator, it would be a battery.
Did Haun follow her like Scarf followed Jina?
If a glamour battery leaked, would Gretel be able to tell?
She didn’t need a stupid support group. Hotlines and groups made her dwell on the past.
If it leaked at a rate of…
Revenge was the best medicine for these wounds.
They needed units of measure for glamour and toradh.
Besides, what happened to her wasn’t so bad. She’d already gotten over it. Jina was the one who couldn’t let go.
They’d have to do timed tests and write everything down.
Where were these tears coming from?
Sandy stopped and sat down abruptly on the stairs. She’d been up all night. That was the problem. She needed rest. Right after the next experiment. Right after, she’d go to bed.
What if Haun could scry past the wards? What if he could see her right now?
Maybe she would read a little first. Trying to fall asleep made her thoughts wander, and this hotline number would be there on the nightstand, staring at her.
What if he could see her crying?
Now was not the time for sleep. Jina would come out soon. Mustn’t see her like this.
She stood and wiped her eyes. She’d hidden a bottle of Glenlivet in the tropical plant at the bottom of the stairs for just such an emergency. She twisted off the cap and swigged back until she felt the spreading warmth cool her emotions. Then she slipped the bottle back where it belonged. Hidden, protected.
Jina. What a wishy-washy hippy, crying over spilt faerie blood, with her rape hotline and feel-good psychobabble. Sandy had nothing wrong with her. What a waste of time.
Sandy briefly considered taking Jina’s advice to go out. But how could she relax when there was so much to do? And with all those faeries out there, wandering about freely?
I know what I’ll do, she thought. I haven’t checked the traps in a week. She grabbed a jacket.
See? I’m not afraid to leave the house. At the door, she paused to get a pair of thick gloves. No more faerie bites. Fucking nykk. Fucking nykk and fucking Jina and fucking fuck everybody.
The sun had just set, with the last bit of light peeking out in the western sky. The air still held a bit of winter in the fickle Seattle spring. She didn’t notice as she walked. She never did. Instead, she tromped down the sidewalk brooding about all her problems.
While she ranted to herself, her anger built, and it somehow felt better. When she imagined a trap with something inside, she felt less helpless.
According to routine, she went to the Conservatory first. And according to routine, that trap lay unsprung. She considered moving it, but she wasn’t sure where, so she left it alone.
On to the one across from the museum. Hollis had reset it after they’d transferred the redcap, so it had all week to catch something new. She carefully lifted the rhododendron branches and grinned from ear to ear. It had sprung. What obnoxious beast did she land this time?
The same stick from last week lay protected from park cleanup under the shrub. She used it to lift up the cage and rest it on the ground. Curiosity got the best of her, so she stared at it and tried to imagine what it contained. What do I see? What’s there?
Nothing.
She tried again.
Come on, bastard. Show yourself!
Still nothing.
“Fuck you, then!” She kicked the cage, hard, sending it crashing against a tree. “I hope you–”
She saw someone out of the corner of her eye, standing just to her right, fists clenched, leaning forward as if screaming at someone. She turned to look, but no one was there. “What the fuck…”
Her anger transformed into fear. More cautiously, she approached the cage. Something moved on her left, walking beside her, except when she looked, the figure was gone.
She’d read about this. She tried to name it, this creature that could mimic a person. A German faerie, or ghost.
Then the whispers began. She whirled around and around looking for the source, always behind her.
She realized the whispers were in her head. Not that she imagined them – they were indeed very real. No, the whispers were coming from inside her head.
She clasped her hands to her ears to force them out.
One whisper became louder than the rest and she could clearly hear what it said: Let me out.
“No! Fuck you!”
Let me out.
“Goddamn you!”
Suddenly her perspective shifted and confusion overwhelmed her with a sickening vertigo. Was she standing beside a rhododendron, or huddled in a cage? The bars burned like liquid nitrogen and threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. She’d been here for days, in this cruel iron torture device.
Let me out, it said again, only now she couldn’t tell if she was listening or talking. No, she was pretty sure she was the one asking to be let out. She looked up at herself looming over her, bending down to open the cage.
The metal bars sprung open, and she was back standing over an empty cage in a quiet park. Her hair stood on end, and then the chill fled.
The world around her darkened to a pinpoint. She fell to her knees in the dirt, clutching her stomach, gasping for air. Her palms barely caught herself as she fell forward again. The world tilted sideways and the dirt gave her no handhold.
She had swapped places, however briefly, with this faerie. Just like Haun’s magic.
Almost like Haun’s, yet different. With Haun, she had been inside his mind, heard his thoughts, felt what he felt, wanted what he wan
ted, but she could still tell who she was.
With this faerie, this time, she was it. And it was her.
She held herself for a very long time, until the remaining light from the sun completely vanished and she could finally breathe again. The moon came up and the spring chill had turned icy, like winter in the mountains.
Sandy finally felt like herself. She cautiously picked up the cage with gloved hands and slowly walked home.
Dopple-something. Doppelgänger. Double-walker. Norway and Mexico had them too, different names. Fetch. And vardoger or something.
Somewhere, some book would have the answer to what had just happened to her. And she would find it. Tonight.
CHAPTER 20
*
THE GUITAR CASE SWUNG against Jina’s legs as she walked alone to Neumo’s, keeping an eye out for Scarf as she went. Aside from the smell of car exhaust, it seemed a nice evening for a stroll, even though she had to glance every which way, looking for a striped scarf or a repeated face. She fully expected him to be at the gig, even if he wasn’t following her now.
Back in her wilder days, Jina had dated a few jerks who didn’t think she had the right to break up with them. One had made it his business to follow Jina wherever she went. He called obsessively, called her workplace, called Sandy. He showed up at her gigs, invited himself to parties, harassed her friends, sent her gifts.
She didn’t miss those days.
On the bright side, that experience helped her know what to look for. She’d been glancing over her shoulder all week, and hadn’t seen anyone matching Scarf’s description.
Except he was a faerie, and had a few advantages her ex-boyfriend hadn’t.
She shifted the weight of the guitar case in her hand.
Sandy’s words stung. Jina tried to remember that Sandy was only trying to protect herself. That didn’t make it okay, or right, and Sandy should apologize, but Jina didn’t expect it from her.
It was getting worse. Jina could deal with the alcoholism. She had most of her life, until she left home. Until she left each dysfunctional partner.
But did she want to just ‘deal’?
The constant pressure forced Jina into old mindsets that once protected her from her mother. They also prevented her from leading a sane, happy life. She didn’t want to end up walking on eggshells, nagging, obsessing over Sandy’s drinking, searching for the hidden bottles to dump.