Emerald City Dreamer

by Luna Lindsey

  “What?” Jina asked.

  “Yer cure. Just take a bath in water used to cook potatoes. I told you that in the first place, when yer boyfriend caught the chilblains.”

  “There,” Sandy said, turning back towards Jina. “I told you I had a plan to save you. You didn’t believe me.”

  Jina narrowed her eyes at Pogswoth. “A potato bath? Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “It’s truth,” Pogswoth murmured. “I’m no deal-breaker.”

  “It’s an old Irish remedy,” Jett said. “I should have remembered.”

  “Will it stop the chill?” Jina pressed, trying to gather as much warmth from her latte and the heater as she could.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Pogswoth said, “and cure yer frostnip.”

  “Will day still be as night?”

  Pogswoth grumbled.

  “Well?”

  “I promised is I’d save you and halt the curse. Done both.”

  “But?”

  “Faestroke is faestroke. Damage is done. If I cut off yer finger using glamour, it wouldn’t grow back just ‘cos I turned off the magic.”

  “Jerk,” Jina muttered. She whirled on Sandy, ignoring Pogswoth’s blade. “So you made some kind of deal with this liar? You of all people, Sandy?”

  “Why not?” Sandy asked. “You’ve been pushing me to bargain with faeries.”

  “Except now he has a sword pointed at my face.”

  Pogswoth held out his other hand as if asking to dance. “Maybe you should come along, Jina, and have a nice life with me. I’ll even let Trey go, since you’d never find him to rescue him.”

  Jina threw her latte at Pogswoth. The top popped off and the pale brown liquid dripped down, adding stains to his frayed scarf.

  As soon as he was distracted, Jett rushed to Jina’s side and hooked her arms protectively around Jina’s right arm.

  “No,” Jina said. “I will find him. I know where you live.”

  “Then you’ll know where to forward yer mail!” He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her away from Jett with a strength she didn’t suspect. Jett lost her balance and fell forward.

  “Fiagai, you kill the elf,” he added as he dragged Jina toward the fountain.

  “I can’t!” Sandy shouted. “I swore a geas! You were supposed to kill her!”

  Jina planted her feet and he just kept on dragging her closer to the fountain, which wasn’t that far away to begin with.

  Jett recovered her center and tried to come between Jina and Pogswoth while staying away from the deadly sword.

  Sandy pulled out a knife. “Let her go!” she shouted. “Both of you!”

  Jett backed away, coming to a stop between Sandy and Jina.

  Sandy waved the knife at anyone who looked like they were going to come near.

  “You too, korrigan!” Sandy cried. “You were supposed to kill the elf. This wasn’t part of the deal!” she cried.

  Jina kicked at Pogswoth but it only made her lose center and she fell. He didn’t have far to take her; she made sure it took his every effort.

  To show her how little effort it took, he began to sing, “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…” He wasn’t even out of breath.

  “He was supposed to rescue you!” Sandy shouted, the knife quivering in her hand.

  “I didn’t need rescuing. Now I do! Kill him, not Jett!”

  Sandy turned slightly and seemed to be considering it. With her head turned, Jett swung her fist and punched Sandy in the face. She reeled and stumbled. Jett smiled at her hand as if it was the first time she’d ever tried such a thing.

  Pogswoth still sang his infernal song, and had her at the fountain. “Tuesday…”

  “Wednesday,” Jina sang.

  Pogswoth paled, his jaw tightening. His eyes pierced her through. “Damn all, you’ve given me a new day.” He threw Jina to the floor. “Now I have to give you something!”

  He dropped the sword and started rooting through his pockets.

  “Give me Trey.”

  “Think I’m witless?” Pogswoth said.

  “Then why not give me the day back?”

  “Fat chance,” Pogswoth said, patting his striped scarf. “Ah, this will do.” He tugged off the scarf and handed it to Jina.

  Jina grasped it and yanked, catching him off balance and pulling him to the floor next to her. As they both struggled to get up, Jett appeared holding a heavy bookend in the shape of a throne.

  “Kneel!” she shouted, ramming the throne into his face. His skull bent in such a way that would have killed a normal man. Pogswoth clutched his bleeding face.

  Jina grabbed the scarf and got behind him, wrapping it around his neck, tightening, tightening. She knelt on his back, and kept twisting, until the korrigan choked. She had only to hold on until he stopped breathing.

  It would help if Jett hit him again – where was she?

  She glanced over to see Gretel grappling with Jett. Why would—

  Jina could not believe her eyes. Gretel had Jett’s elbows pinned behind her back, and Sandy advanced, knife still in hand, with a look of deadly intent.

  Jina did the only thing she could.

  She dropped Scarf and grabbed Sandy’s arm, jerking her forward.

  The pain took a second to register. The iron burned just as hot in her mortal flesh as any other kind of metal. It spread through her right breast, and at least in that one spot, she was no longer cold.

  She caught a glimpse of Sandy’s horror. Her mouth opened. Then her eyes rolled back into her head.

  Just as suddenly, it started to rain.

  CHAPTER 58

  *

  GRETEL HAD JETT immobilized. Sandy advanced on Jett, waiting for the geas to stop her. She drew the knife backward, expecting resistance – maybe a lightning bolt or brick wall – but nothing stopped its swing from plunging into Jett.

  Nothing, that is, except Jina’s body.

  Time distorted. The knife connected her to Jina, her hand on the hilt, the blade buried partway in Jina’s chest. She had only a moment to wonder which side the heart was supposed to be on, to notice how much blood there was, and to catch Jina’s expression of ultimate betrayal.

  Jina, who had always been there, who had never given up on her, who even now was just trying to make everyone happy. This injury dealt by Sandy’s own hand, was intended for Haun, always intended for Haun, and for every last one of the fae, but in the end, she’d only been hurting her best friend in the whole world.

  And herself.

  Her thoughts choked off as she plunged into ice water.

  Cold drenched her skin and filled her screaming mouth. She thrashed around, searching for some handhold, for some answer as to where all this water had come from. There was no “up” to swim to, no down to swim away from. Her extremities grew numb and her mind grew tired of fighting.

  Help me, she wanted to scream, and at that moment she realized the water wasn’t on the outside, but within.

  A presence filled her mind, purging the water. It was a gentle caress that transformed the raindrops into glimmers of peace.

  Help me, Sandy called to it, no longer caring if anything made sense.

  The rain can drown, or the rain can heal, the voice said. You’ve suffered quite a shock. But he is not here. He’s gone, washed away, down the mountain, into the stream, to the river that leads to the ocean.

  Who’s there? Who are you?

  Merely an aspect of the dream come to fulfill the demands of the geas, the voice tinkled. There was a flash, and then a distant thunder. Sandy flinched.

  He is the cloud, and your tears are his rain. Your umbrella need not be covered in razors and icicles

  Every word painted a picture. She saw herself, her face drenched in tears, and above her head twirled a hellish umbrella.

  He seems so huge to you, but he is small, a single degraded insignificant creature on the face of a heavy planet which itself is merely a water drop in a vast space.

  Below Sandy sprea
d the infinity of the cosmos, the Milky Way a distant smear of glow, and Haun just an invisible speck on an invisible, distant Earth.

  The umbrella twirled above her. Absurd spikes and knives poked out in every direction. How barbaric, these weapons which dangled from every surface. The ineffective canopy was rent and it tilted sideways from the weight of a mace which hung from one edge.

  It is unlucky to open a bumbershoot indoors.

  Sandy reached up to close it and cut herself on a curl of razor wire.

  Let me help you, she said. Let others help you. Ask for it.

  It had been so difficult before, but now the words tumbled out of her mouth. “Help me,” Sandy whispered. Her voice echoed throughout this vast space, repeated a thousand times a thousand, once for each raindrop.

  So it is sealed by geas.

  Phaesyle appeared beside the ghastly device and her small arms sneaked past the violent edges. The umbrella closed.

  Without buoyancy, it began to tip and spill over. Sandy stepped aside, letting it fall, its weight pulling it down towards the center of the universe where it collided with a black hole and burned up.

  Something clicked inside, and she understood everything Jina had been trying to tell her. Emotional switches turned on that words alone had been unable to flip. She’d been fighting so hard, for the wrong things, and blocking out all the right things because they scared her.

  She had done everything wrong up to that point. She’d killed an innocent person. She’d failed to protect Trey, she’d placed Gretel and Hollis in undue danger, and she’d hurt Jina over and over. At each step it wasn’t the Ordo that saved lives, but Jett and Jina acting on their own.

  And this hyade, who had saved Sandy from herself.

  Sandy let go of her blame. She forgave herself for letting Jina save her, more than once. She forgave herself for being wrong. She forgave herself for driving Jina away, and for killing Ezra. She forgave herself for dragging Hollis and Gretel into unnecessary danger.

  She could almost forgive herself for letting Haun have her in the first place.

  Almost.

  She relaxed and for the first time in seven years, tension fled her aching shoulders. Serenity soothed her fears. She let them all go.

  Here, out in the far emptiness of space, it started to rain. Sandy held out her arms, and embraced it.

  CHAPTER 59

  *

  PAIN SPREAD OUTWARD from the wound, and as it did, rain fell from the ceiling and battled the pain. It soaked into her shirt, mixing with the blood before sizzling against the iron blade.

  Jett grasped the hilt and her skin smoked from where it touched the iron. Jina looked up into her face, and it held a look almost of awe as she yanked the blade free.

  She let it fall to the floor.

  More blood seeped from the hole in her shirt. The rain continued to sizzle in the wound. The knife seemed to have missed vital areas. It still hurt like hell, especially when she inhaled. She struggled to rise but felt nauseous.

  “Where’s?” Jina asked. It hurt when she turned her head to look for Pogswoth.

  “He fled down the furrow,” Jett said.

  Gretel looked ready to bolt. She made a move for the knife, but Jett pressed her boot on it and gave her a murderous look. So Gretel sat still on the folding chair, her eyes darting about like a caged animal.

  Sandy still stood in the rain, staring forward, eyes rolled back into her head, her expression changing rapidly. Phaesyle was nowhere to be seen.

  “Not again, not again,” Gayle muttered on repeat, rushing about, opening umbrellas and grabbing paintings from the wall to stuff them under the counter.

  Jina felt glamour from three different sources: the rain, Jett’s embrace, and from within. She let herself relax and settled in on the floor against Jett’s legs. Yet the blood continued to seep.

  “I am trying to heal you,” Jett said. “This is a cold wound, made by iron. It resists.”

  She took off her shirt and pressed the cloth against Jina’s breast. The wound didn’t feel cold. In fact, it was the only place on her body where Pogswoth’s curse no longer seemed alive.

  “What’s wrong with Sandy?” Jina sputtered, rain dripping down her face.

  “She and Phaesyle are deep in Tir Nan Og. Very deep. The geas is being fulfilled.”

  Jina worried for a moment that she’d made a terrible mistake. Sometimes the glamour did what it wished, within the loose confines of the frame she gave it. She’d made Sandy swear she’d do no harm, “or so help me”, hoping it would force Sandy to get help, not condemn her to the distant recesses of fairyland.

  As abruptly as it had begun, the rain stopped.

  Phaesyle hovered like a cloud over Sandy, who now knelt, smiling blissfully, staring up at the Greek goddess in the fountain. Phaesyle smoothed out her dress before finding a dry spot on the head of the goddess.

  “I don’t need an umbrella,” Sandy said, sighing.

  “What…?” Gretel asked.

  “I said I don’t need an umbrella. I’m going to get help.” She looked around with what seemed like new eyes. They fell on Jina, and she crawled forward to Jina’s side, taking her hand. “Oh god, there’s so much blood.”

  Jett shoved Sandy back and picked up the iron blade in her burnt hands. “Stay back.”

  Phaesyle turned to Jett. “Your mother still hears your prayers. Your little ones are protected.”

  “She… Flidais? She spoke to you?” Jett’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at the knife in her hands like it was a snake before dropping it.

  Phaesyle held a finger up to her lips.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sandy said. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  “You are as blind as a newt,” Jett said, recovering. “And you know just as much. Had I died, Jina would have died. Is that what you meant to have happen?”

  Sandy shook her head slowly from side to side.

  “What are you doing, Sandy?” Gretel growled. “Get her!”

  “No,” Sandy said. “I’m not going to kill Jett. I am going to make a pact with her. And then I am going to kill Pogswoth and set Trey free. And someone should take Jina to the hospital.”

  “I want to come with you,” Jina said, her breath suddenly short. She’d been shivering, she just realized.

  “No,” Jett said. “You will come home with me to take a potato bath.”

  Jina shifted her weight and tried to stand until her head spun. “I have to—”

  “If she doesn’t get to a hospital, she’ll die,” Sandy said.

  “The life that drains from her now is because of the curse, not her wound.” Jett motioned to the heater. It had shorted out in the rain. “I have already texted home asking Pete to boil fifty gallons of potatoes and pour the water into the tub. Even if he uses the Cauldron of Phlogiston it will take some time, but we need to get home before the water cools.”

  “Sandy, you’ll have to go without me,” Jina said. “Save Trey.”

  “So you forgive me?” Sandy asked.

  Tears came to Jina’s eyes and she felt a warmth almost as good as functioning space heater. Jina held out her good arm and gave Sandy the best hug she could, there on the floor in a puddle.

  Gretel broke the short silence. “You are not the same Sandy. That scamp bewitched you.”

  Sandy turned to her, and then stood, working the stiffness out of her legs. “Don’t worry; I am in full possession of my faculties.”

  “People in thrall always think that,” Gretel replied.

  “Yes, that is what I would say, isn’t it? You’ll just have to trust me. There’s no time for anything else.” Then she took her seat, her clothes dripping, adding water to the little puddles around her feet.

  Gretel frowned.

  “I hurt someone, Gret,” Sandy said, “and as I was bound, I…” Her eyes flicked down to Jina. Sandy brought her hand to her chest and rubbed, as if she had her own tender scar.

  “You got help,” Jina said.
/>   “It’s not all gone.” Sandy glanced at Phaesyle. “I feel better, but… there’s more to do.”

  “There are moments like that,” Jina said, her teeth chattering. “When you’re ready to grow, there’s a rush, a breakthrough, like magic. The rest of the time is filled with hard work thinking, talking, reading, writing, and living–”

  “And meditating, too I suppose,” Sandy replied. “And mushy, wishy-washy hippy stuff.” Her voice held no malice. Only acceptance.

  Gayle said, “I don’t expect Phaesyle is planning to clean up this mess, so I have a lot of work ahead of me tonight. Can we finish this up?”

  “Jett,” Sandy began. “I have wanted to kill you since I first knew you existed. I still don’t know if I can trust you… I’ve never given you reason to trust me. If I swear this geas, will you forgive me, Hollis, and Gretel for everything we’ve done?”

  Jett squeezed Jina’s hand. “As distasteful as it is, that has always been part of the bargain.”

  “And can there be a time limit? So we both have an out?”

  “If you agree to accept my guidance, for a year and a day, I offer you my assistance and knowledge. After that time, you may choose to resume your reckless fumbling, all consequences your own. At least you will have learned a few things by then.”

  “Fair,” Sandy said. “Jina, I will accept your wording of the geas.”

  “Can I get something to write on?” Jina asked.

  Gayle brought Jina a notebook and a warm cup of tea from the backroom. Jina could barely hold the pen, but the tea helped. She drank two cups in quick succession before starting. It would buy her the time she needed.

  During the five minutes while Jina scribbled, the rainwater dried, leaving even the crumbled leaves dry and crunchy, and leaving Jina blessedly warmer. Phaesyle leaned against the goddess-head of the fountain, absently sucking on a leaf stem. The water level in the pool rose until it was high enough for her to run her fingers over the surface once again.

  Gayle gave Phaesyle a grateful look. Phaesyle shrugged as it she didn’t have anything to do with either the rain or the cleanup.

  Sandy made a few technical edits to the wording of her geas, and Jett wanted her geas to be more poetic. After that, Sandy rushed through the swearing with little pomp or ceremony.