by Rei Fletcher
Her movement drew the woman's gaze. She looked down at her. God, she was pale as a ghost, perfect, almost glowing. Her expression was unreadable.
"You're hurt."
Marianne looked down. There were holes in her T-shirt where Ewan's fingers had dug in, and the cotton was wet. Now she felt how it hurt, needling her flesh.
"Oh. I guess, yeah."
A hollow boom sounded. She flinched, but it was only a freight train from the yards in the city. She looked over her shoulder. The cutbank sheered away to the road and the river far below, and all that was between her and a steep fall was the tree. She scrambled away from it with a cry. For a moment she sat, hugging herself, head down. When nothing else happened, not even harmless industrial sounds, she could finally calm her panic.
"I don't understand. I don't understand." The second time sounded steadier.
"Do you remember me?"
"From the gas station."
"Ash."
"Ash. That's your name?" This seemed normal. Normal was good right now. She liked normal. There was something familiar about the name. Maybe she'd mentioned it at the gas station. "I'm Marianne."
"I know." She shrugged. "I heard the bastard shouting it."
"What was that? What...was he?"
Ash seemed untroubled by the height of the cutbank. She sat right on the edge, legs dangling over the drop. She patted the ground beside her.
"Is it safe? Won't those things come?"
"The things of that world will be searching for a safe burrow. They won't be ready to hunt just yet. That was just a temporary door, and won't reopen unless you do it. He's far away. Far enough. Farther than you can imagine. We're as safe as we can be, for this night at least."
She hesitated, then sat cautiously beside her. The city glowed at their feet like an amber ocean, spotted with dark islands of trees. It was a good look. All of the ugly was hidden by the sharp lines of light and dark, and the river glittered like magic. She felt like her skin was too tight. If she held still, and looked at the city, the normal bits would start to make everything right, and she'd fit her skin again.
"How long have you been going to visit him?" Ash's voice was gentle.
"Not...not long. A couple weeks, maybe."
"From the same place?"
"The driveway of the trailer park. Where I live."
She nodded. The light seemed to reflect back from her, like she was glass. She was smooth and flawless. Pretty. Marianne wiped her eyes. She felt too many things, all trying to get out at once.
"How did you find him? Were you playing at magic? Girls your age like that kind of thing."
There were girls at school who messed around with weird books from the library: broomstick-skirt-wearing girls who got pissed off about hot dogs and talked about Mother Earth and corners or quarters or something.
"There was a light. One of those ones from in there." She closed her eyes, trying to remember. "It was like the forest changed. Or the trees." She shrugged. "I don't know. Something like that."
"You might have been able to see it at a Thin Place, and opened the way." Ash swung her feet lightly. "It took some boldness to go exploring that kind of thing alone."
"I didn't know what it was. I was just curious. It was different. From anything. I guess it was stupid, though."
"You'd have had no way to know. It's rare that people can open a gate. That's why there's only seven of those beasties."
"Beasties. The lights?"
Ash nodded.
"He said he needed nine."
"To permanently open a path between his world and ours."
"That's bad."
"Very much so. His power would overwhelm this world. His beasts thrive here. They'd multiply into swarms that would cover the land. It took great wars to defeat his kind, and even so, they could only be banished. They creep ever closer even now."
She was glad that the dark hid the humiliation of it. Or she thought it did.
"You aren't to blame. He has long years of practice behind him. You're new."
"I'm eighteen."
"Still young," Ash smiled, "as his kind count time."
"You're different from them?"
"Very."
"What is he?"
"He's magic, and ancient. Older than you can know, and from another place."
"He said this was his world."
"Only as a conqueror. It's good that you don't know him. It means that they've been gone so long that they've passed out of memory."
"Is he like, a fairy? Like the real ones, not Tinkerbell."
"Old, powerful, otherworldly, wielders of great magic. Some people might mistake him for such a creature, if they didn't know their business."
Marianne looked down. The cutbanks were steep, rocky and solid at the top, breaking down into sand at the bottom. Steep enough to be frightening, not enough to kill you unless you were really unlucky.
Am I lucky or not?
"He was going to hurt me, wasn't he?"
"It's hard to say what those beasties feel. They seem happy enough, but the people that they were are gone. It's a kind of death, in the end. It would be a great pity to see you suffer that fate."
"Why did you come? How? It was like you just appeared."
"You called me there. You drew me."
"How?"
She gestured behind them. "Your pain and fear opened that gate, and it appeared there in front of me." She waved at the forest. Marianne wondered what she was doing up here.
"And you came? Why?"
"Maybe we bonded."
"At a gas station?"
Ash smiled. Marianne felt a little more normal. If anything could be normal now.
"Ah, well, it does sound strange in a certain light. Nonetheless, I could feel your fear, and hear your call, and you could pull me into a place that I'd been banished from."
"You know E—"
Her fingers touched Marianne's mouth. She stopped short, surprised.
"Don't say his name. The name he gave you to call him is like a beacon. Nor should you forget it, because it will help you see him." Marianne nodded. "I've clashed with him before. I haven't been this close in a long time."
"You can kill him?" She looked over her shoulder, feeling as though the tear in the world was still there. Just the creepy leftover feeling, maybe. "Why didn't you?"
"I wasn't prepared. I was lucky to have what I did. Iron hurts him. Given enough planning and time, I might finally destroy him. Not tonight, I'm afraid. But even if I can't kill him, I can still keep him from getting into this world."
"How?"
"By keeping you from going back."
"I'm never going back there! I'm not a fucking idiot."
"That's good then." Ash nodded. "His creatures, that slipped through while we were there, I'll hunt them down. Then the threat of him will be faint again."
"But they'll multiply? Those things?"
"More slowly, if he's still locked away, but there's some urgency to it, yes."
"You can find them?"
"If you know what to look for, anyone could."
"Could I?"
It came out before she could stop it. Before fear and second thoughts had time to work. Or talk sense into her, anyway. She felt like she was about to jump up and run straight down the hill, wild and out of control.
"You're too young for such a hunt."
"I was old enough to fuck up big time. I can at least help fix it."
She fought to keep some kind of poker face, staring hard at the river. It sparkled. It was so pretty, from here.
"Never begrudge being allowed to avoid a fight. Especially not with something like him."
"But you're going to hunt his things. Creatures."
"Yes."
"If you have a chance, you'd try and kill him, right?"
"It would be best."
"Good. Good. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!"
She slammed her fist against her thigh. It helped a little. Kind of. She could
swallow back the rage and the embarrassment.
Ash touched her arm. Her hand was cool and smooth. There was something comforting about it. Familiar. Something teased at her memory.
"You'll not be blaming yourself for this. It's what he does, and he's had thousands of years to hone his magic. From the first moment you passed into his land he held sway over you."
She remembered how long he'd spoken sometimes. What had he told her? Was it like some weird hypnosis? And the desire she'd felt, was it real? Or something that he'd done to make her want to stay?
"I don't really understand. I don't...even know if it's all real."
"It is. But that's what I'd be inclined to say, isn't it?" She thought Ash winked. She definitely sounded amused.
"Is it...Why was it me? Just because it was near my house? The gate, I mean?" She paused. "Is that why you were at the station?"
"I was just passing through."
"But why you?" Help. "Why was it a stranger?"
"Maybe I was just the closest helper to hand."
"How would I know that?" It came out sharper than she meant it. The very fringes of her composure were beginning to unravel; she could feel it.
"Something in you did." Ash looked over her shoulder. "Just like you know how to open doors."
"So that's…real?"
"There are more things in heaven and earth…"
"Than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Marianne finished. Ash smiled.
"There have been lots of people chosen, I bet."
"Not so many, for all the ages that he's dogged our world."
She looked at Ash, and her still face. "What are you, if you aren't like him, but you know all of this stuff about him?"
Ash smiled, and her teeth were very sharp.
"Jesus Christ!" fuck fuck fucketty fuck oh fuck
"I won my long life in quite a different way."
Marianne looked around wildly, thinking about how very fast she'd moved. At the same time, she realised that Ash had lifted her hand away, very deliberately, and had laced her fingers together on her lap.
"You don't have to be afraid of me." Her voice was oddly soft. Wistful.
"He said mostly the same."
"Ah, yes. So, it's down to your heart, then. I won't be hunting you. You'll go home to your family. I'll do my work and leave you in peace. I can hunt down a few creepy-crawlies and keep you away from the gate and him from you. My word on it."
"You saved me."
"I did."
"You're a…" The unravelling was continuing. But was it any weirder than lights and the not-her and a magic door? "You saved me. I want to help. If those lights were people and now they aren't, that means he killed them, right? And he was going to hurt me, and he'll hurt other people. Whoever is going to stop him is a good guy. Even if you're..."
Ash saw her working it out. "I feed, but I don't kill, if that helps. I don't need to."
Marianne rubbed her eyes. Her shoulders were throbbing where he'd gripped her. She was tired, confused, and she had a creeping suspicion that humiliation would wake her up in the middle of the night for years to come. And now she had an hours-long walk ahead of her to get home, because apparently her escape hatch was nowhere near the trailer park.
She looked west, watching headlights crawl silently along the highway, wishing the busses hadn't stopped or that she had money for a taxi. Or a pay phone to call one. In movies people could just flag them down, and they always had money.
"Let me help. Please."
Ash shook her head. "It isn't for you, this fight. Come, I'll take you home."
Marianne followed her through the trees, careful on the unsteady ground. All the threads were falling away, and she didn't trust her feet anymore. After a short trek they came to a log house, its high fence and tidy yard entirely surrounded by forest. She tried to guess how far it was from neighbours, and a little shiver of unease touched her again. On the other hand, there were lots of houses that were isolated at the end of long driveways. People just liked their space, and there was no reason to think there was anything dodgy about it.
"You live here?"
"For the time being."
They came around from the back. The moonlight touched one of the hottest cars she'd ever seen.
"That's..."
"Isn't she gorgeous?" Ash smiled.
"Mustang."
"'68. Right off the lot."
It had a rumbling purr. Marianne sat in the leather seat, bag on her lap, and smiled as the headlights flashed over the trees. She had to resist the urge to give roundabout directions to the trailer park, just to have more time in the car. When Marianne asked, Ash stopped at the side of the road instead of driving in. She wasn't sure if her mom was home, or if the neighbours would notice and say something. She just didn't have the strength right now to make up lies.
Marianne looked at the trees beside the driveway. They seemed so normal.
"It's safe enough. Remember, the gate is yours to control."
Marianne looked at her quickly, then out the window.
"Take care of yourself, my girl. Don't go creeping around strange lights, and never trust a silver tongue."
Chapter 7
She ran the water slowly, so she didn't wake her mom. Or John. From the sounds of the snoring, he was there again. She paused in the hallway, fishing around for the sour resentment that came along with every other man her mom dragged home. Tonight, she couldn't seem to feel it, and she didn't know if it was because John wasn't an asshole or if it was everything else that had happened. She felt a little surge of gratitude towards him for being nice and felt strangely comforted by the peaceful snores.
Her shoulders throbbed, reminding her that she had stuff to do, and standing in a dark hallway staring at her mom's bedroom door was a little weird.
In the mirror she examined the wounds, touching them gingerly. That was a mistake. Her T-shirt had stuck to the punctures, though. She closed her eyes and tore it free, swallowing back a whimper. The wounds—eight on her front, two on her back—started to bleed sluggishly. She thought of the long scratches on the side of the trailer, but Ash said he was stuck in that world, so it couldn't have been him. Not if she believed Ash.
She slid into the hot water. Her shoulders weren't the only part of her that hurt, Water stung the palms of her hands and her knees, and worked at aches and pains beneath the skin, too. She sank as much of herself under the surface as she could without drowning.
Drops fell from the tap. John snored. All she'd done in twenty-four hours was run in a circle that had gotten her hurt, and her big ambitions didn't mean anything.
It rolled over her in waves: fear, humiliation, anger, and back to fear. Under each wave was the blank disbelief that it had happened at all.
She pressed her hand against her eyes. Tears crept out, anyway. How fucking cool? How awesome was that? Crying until she needed her mom to come wipe her snotty nose.
Stupid bitch.
Finally, she scrubbed at her face. There was a little shudder, but she could breathe again, and she felt better.
She cleaned the dirt and leaves out of her hair and dried off. The puncture marks had mostly stopped bleeding. She dabbed at them with some ointment, wondering what kind of alien infection a thing like him could give you.
They were so bright in the sick bathroom light. She stared at them, a bit of blood welling up from a particularly deep wound. That was something, right? If Ash was a...thing like that...she didn't exactly get all monster-y at the sight of blood. That sort of made her better than…him.
"Oh god." She covered her face. For a minute she wished, just a little, that she was going crazy. She'd read that people would hurt themselves and not even remember doing it, and say that it was ghosts. That would be better than magic doors and…whatever Ash was. It would be a lie, but a comforting one.
She shoved the ruined T-shirt under the bed and curled up under her blankets. Her mind beat sleep away even though her body ached for it. Whe
never she tried to close her eyes they'd pop open on their own, imagining those weird, lumpy shapes crawling between the trailers, bending the untrimmed grass. Or the flying thing. How far would the flying thing go? Long after the room brightened her mind wouldn't stop imagining them. The flying thing that wriggled. Shouldn't the light chase away the nightmares? But they weren't nightmares, fading with time. They were real. The sun wasn't going to kill them.
She listened to her mom and John getting ready, then the door shut, and they were gone, too.
The trailer fell silent. Not even a dog barked. The lumpy shapes hadn't come, but that didn't mean that they weren't looking for someone, somewhere. Beasties, whatever they were. Somewhere out in the world were things that had crawled out of the muck and escaped through a doorway that she'd made. Even if she hadn't known what she was doing, it was on her.
And there was something else, too. Whatever Ash said, she had to admit to herself, in the guilty, squirming part of her mind, that he hadn't seemed right. She'd ignored it. That's why it was her fault. He'd used her like she was a stupid kid. That's what she was, too. A stupid kid.
That afternoon she retrieved her T-shirt and took it out to the burn barrel shared by the trailer park's residents, doused it, and set it on fire. The heat from the barrel joined the dusty, warm day. Sweat stung her shoulders. Black was a bad choice for the hot day, but she usually hid from the sun, and most of her clothes were dark.
She looked at the driveway. Iron, Ash said.
Her mom kept the pots and pans in the drawer under the stove. There was a small cast iron pan that her mom had rescued from the bottom of a yard sale box and rehabilitated with lots of oil and smoke. She called it curing and would shout at Marianne if she so much as waved it near water. It would fit into her bag. She was testing the weight of it, swinging it carefully in the small kitchen, when the phone rang.
"Hey, Mare. What's up?"
"Nothing."
Bobby waited, expecting more.
"Haven't seen you for a while. Just wondering, you know. We okay?"
"Everything's fine. Just been busy. Looking for a second job. You know. Stuff like that." She stabbed at the air a few times.