by R. Cooper
“I’ve been… we aren’t really sure what to expect, or who to ask. Or even what to ask. There’s only one that’s ever really been on record in a concrete way.” Arthur spoke in a rush. “There’s recordings and pictures and even some poor quality video. But very little in the way of real life experience for us to go on. But this glow has been happening sometimes lately. And now shine.” Arthur looked at Clematis with somewhat dazed eyes. “Clematis, I would like you to do something for me.”
Clematis felt ice all down his spine. There were very few things anyone ever needed him to do for them. But he didn’t think Arthur was asking for sex.
He came forward anyway, because he owed Arthur, and they both knew it. And Arthur was good. Protective and clever, but good in a way every fairy could see.
Arthur pulled the stroller away from the bench so it was angled slightly toward where Clematis was standing awkwardly in front of him. He looked up. “I am going to trust you with something, because you actually believe what you just told me, and because, though you might not realize it, at this moment, your life is in my hands.” He held Clematis’s gaze for another long, tense moment, then reached over to pull the baby blanket on top of the stroller up and out of the way.
Clematis put a hand over his eyes, and Arthur made a small, shocked noise, as if even he was surprised by the amount of light that spilled out. After a stuttering, frozen moment, he pulled the blanket part of the way back down, leaving only the two of them bathed in the strange, wonderful radiance.
“It’s not all shine?” Clematis wondered distractedly, then bent down and looked closer at a sweet, chubby little face.
The baby cooed, not entirely in the way that human and fairy babies often made sounds like doves.
Clematis stared at wispy black hair and alert, interested brown eyes and had no concern at all for the tears trailing down his cheeks.
“What magic did this?” he asked in awe, barely audible.
“Love.” Arthur was equally soft. “It’s still hard to believe.”
“Not from someone like you.” Clematis wanted to reach out but didn’t dare. “Hello, beautiful,” Clematis greeted Arthur’s baby, although they were not a newborn and perhaps he shouldn’t think of them that way. He studied their tiny, clumsy, fat fingers and felt so much his ribs were tight around his heart. The child was not human, or not completely human, anyway. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before, not in person, but he recognized it from the cover of one cassette in his collection. He’d only ever seen one glow like that, and the picture did not do it justice. “This is a firebird.”
He sensed how Arthur startled, but didn’t turn to look.
“That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event. That’s a miracle, as humans would say.” Clematis absently wiped his eyes. “Oh, you have to be careful, Arthur. You have to be strong. They don’t—people see beauty and they will want to destroy it. You have to protect it.”
“Her.” Arthur stood up next to him and reached down, easily, to touch his daughter’s face. She turned toward him, and he sighed a little, happy and worried. “Eleanor. Alia-anor, really, if we’re being technical. Bertie likes a historical troublemaker. Alia-anor Mingzhu MacArthur-Jones. What a mouthful.”
A name for an empress, Clematis thought, but all he said was “You gave me her name.”
What David would say about that. A human simply giving their child’s name to a fairy, to a fairy like Clematis, no less. There were countless legends instructing humans to never do that.
Arthur startled again, as though he hadn’t really considered or even remembered the old nonsense about fairies until Clematis had brought it up. “I did, didn’t I?” Arthur put a hand to his face. “Bertie teases me for guarding books with my life and accepts new security systems and all my lists, and then I just give her to you, at least as far as a bunch of stories are concerned. Oh my God, I must be tired.”
“Maybe—” Clematis wet his lower lip anxiously. “—maybe it means you still trust me a little. I would not be a good godfather, but I would never hurt her.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it and quickly kept talking. “I could give you something in return? I don’t have anything equal to her, but I could try.”
Several emotions flashed across Arthur’s face in only a few seconds. He didn’t cry at all. Clematis envied that and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand one more time before turning to face the tiny empress in the stroller.
He wondered how old she really was. Being children were never quite like human children, even fairies, who looked almost human until around four or five. He wondered how long she would live. He didn’t know much about firebirds, or the dragons they were almost always linked with.
She blinked up at him and cooed again, exactly like a fluffy little bird.
Clematis carefully reached down to touch one soft cheek, leaving a trace of his tears behind. “Eleanor, who exists because of love, you will be headstrong and spoiled with affection. You will grow up in safety, adored, doted on, protected. You will be a force. I know the type, but you will outshine them all.” He paused, breathing hard, his body overflowing with the sudden push of magic. Arthur gasped, but Eleanor did not look away. “You will gain wisdom,” Clematis promised her, “not easily, but not with more than your share of suffering. Because you will not be the sort to hide from their heart. You will see it and know it and claim it, and woe to anyone who gets in your way.”
“Clematis.” Arthur put a hand on his arm.
“I always liked the idea of fairy gifts in the stories.” Clematis smiled at her for a second longer before turning to Arthur. “I would have said no suffering, but I don’t think anyone escapes that.”
“You blessed her,” Arthur whispered in amazement, then added, firmer, “Sit down. You’re shaking.”
“I’ve never done that before.” Clematis sat on the bench while Arthur tucked his daughter in and straightened the blanket to hide her. “I’d do it again, maybe better, but I don’t think I can right now.”
“A blessing and a burden.” Arthur plopped down next to him as if exhausted as well. “But that’s how it is. It’s never easy, is it?”
Clematis had no answer for that. “I am sorry. I wouldn’t have known how to make you happy, and I shouldn’t have imagined that I could have. You should have known you were wanted.”
Arthur waved a hand in dismissal or maybe asking Clematis to stop apologizing.
“I’m glad you love her so much,” Clematis went on. “You won’t ever let her go, will you? That’s good. So many children….” He realized he was taking up too much of Arthur’s time and stood to leave.
A distant, indistinct voice broke through the evening air, muffled, like someone talking into a loudspeaker or a bullhorn. The human students around them turned to follow it, almost straining to listen. So did Arthur. Then some of the students looked at their phones and bolted, all of them heading down the same path.
The other humans did not look calm as they all kept glancing at their phones. Some headed quickly in the opposite direction. The rest seemed frozen.
“Arthur,” Clematis said nervously, “something is going on. Do you know where the MCC table is, near the main entrance? Maybe you should take Eleanor there. There will be beings to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need beings to keep us safe,” Arthur replied, but stiffly. “I have—”
The ground shook, and then a roar split the evening air, silencing every last human around them.
Clematis had never heard that sound, but he had no doubt what it was. “Dragon,” he whispered, right as Arthur said, “Bertie.”
“My husband,” Arthur added in explanation as he got to his feet.
Of course he’d married a dragon. Arthur had probably won that dragon’s heart in mere moments.
“Are you going to go to him?” Clematis reached for his phone, but then the ground shook again. The person talking through the loudspeaker returned, ordering people to stay calm.
Arthur worked
his jaw. “He just came to give a lecture, like he does once or twice every year. But there were protestors outside the hall and one or two in line to hear him, so he asked me to wait here. Which I did not want to do, but….” He held tight to the handle of the stroller.
Clematis nodded. “I’ll go.” If the hateful humans were there, then some of the MCC likely were as well. And beings would have gone to a lecture by another being anyway. “I’ll go,” he said again, to make it real. “Just to see. But you should still go toward the main entrance and find the other beings. For Eleanor. Okay? I’ll go but if I’m not back soon, or the roaring gets worse, go find the other beings. I bet your dragon would want that too.”
“I can—” Arthur had always been stubborn. But he stopped himself before glancing down at his daughter. “Bertie will be fine. He will. But I don’t want him to worry. I’ll take her to the main entrance and wait.” It didn’t lessen Clematis’s anxiety, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Arthur’s pretty golden angel. “Clematis!” Arthur called him back before he’d taken two steps. “Just don’t… don’t approach Bertie, if you see him. And don’t tell him your name!”
Clematis wouldn’t have gone anywhere near a dragon in normal circumstances—their eyes were said to see too much—but he looked at Arthur and twitched at the sudden memory of Stephanie telling him a dragon had been asking about him.
Arthur stared at him stubbornly and didn’t explain, not that he really had to. Flor would probably feel the same as that dragon, in his place.
Clematis left without another word. He followed a few more of the students who were hurrying in the direction of the history building and saw more students heading that way from different paths or running over the grass. The voice on the speaker repeated for people to stay calm, which was when Clematis started to run.
If there had been a fight or a scene with those humans and Flor was on campus, Flor would be there too. Clematis skimmed through the air for part of the way, then fell to his feet, skidding to a stop to see the chaos around the history building.
People were everywhere. Most of them seemed to be shouting at each other or at several of the Human Heritage members, who were shrinking under their own banner as furious students surrounded them. Others were yelling at the campus police, who were either in front of the hateful humans to protect them or commanding the other students to stand down. Amid the mass of swirling bodies were glimpses of brilliant shine, but no one Clematis could identify.
Then, from near the steps of the main building, came another terrifying roar.
Clematis took a step back. He stumbled into someone, then was shoved forward as someone took off toward the center of the scene. He landed on his hands and knees, wincing at the slight pain, but didn’t get a chance to scramble back to his feet before someone seized his arm and yanked him upright.
“That’s enough.” The campus police officer was tall and big and spoke into her walkie-talkie while Clematis stared blankly at her. Her grip hurt, but he didn’t think to protest. She had to yell to be heard above the noise. “You have a student ID?”
“The campus is open to nonstudents,” Clematis answered automatically, tumbling closer to her when she pulled on his arm again.
“Always have an answer, don’t you?” She was out of breath and not amused. “Get over here.” She didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, or to move anywhere, before she pulled out a set of plastic cuffs to bind his hands at the wrists. She pulled it too tight, pinching the skin, but he barely noticed.
“What?” Clematis asked belatedly, mouth dry, but another officer appeared and the first one pulled out a canister of pepper spray before heading into the crowd. Several more officers joined her. Some looked like the city police. Clematis turned to the human holding him. “What’s going on?”
The second officer tugged him forward roughly by his plastic cuffs and didn’t answer. Clematis glanced back toward the mess of outraged humans. He tripped, more than once, until his feet left the ground, and then the officer yanked him down hard before ordering him not to do that again.
If fairies were a threat, humans should really have a better way to arrest them by now, Clematis thought hysterically, and took another quick look behind him to see some of the crowds dispersing at the show of force from the campus police.
He was pulled to a small patio area on the west side of the history building, where several officers were standing guard over a few people, most of them cuffed like Clematis, all of them sitting on the ground.
Clematis noted some pointed ears, some massive shoulders, but it wasn’t until he saw Mishi that he understood.
“You’re only detaining beings?” he demanded, voice too high. “Why? What have we done? I wasn’t even there!”
“Sit down,” the officer ordered, then seemed to remember Clematis could fly away. “And stay, or we will make you stay.”
“Clematis,” Mishi called out before Clematis could make himself stop trembling. She was cross-legged on the cement with her hands behind her back. Her eyes were too wide for calm, but she was trying to seem as if she was. “Clematis, don’t make a scene.”
He shuddered away from the officer and fell gracelessly against Mishi on his knees, the pavement tearing his jeans. “Mishi,” he said to her shoulder before raising his head, “are you okay?” There wasn’t a scratch on her, but he wanted to be sure.
“I went quietly.” Mishi gave him a wobbly smile. “That’s what we’re supposed to do. It makes us look better and them look worse. But I’ve never done it before. Done this,” she whispered. “I’m kind of glad you’re here. Which is terrible. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.” Clematis shook his head. “I’m no use here. I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Mishi glanced over at the watching cops, then leaned closer to him. “Someone punched one of those Heritage jerks. I don’t know who,” she added quickly when she saw Clematis’s face. “It wasn’t him. Okay? It wasn’t Flor. Just someone, probably human since a being would have done a lot more damage if they wanted to. Probably one of their own, to be honest. It’s the kind of crap they’d pull. Beings put up with a lot every day. I doubt any one of us lost it because those idiots were protesting a history lecture given by a dragon. Then everything seemed to happen. I don’t really know what went on. I picked up some people who’d fallen down and two campus police threatened to tase me—which wouldn’t work because I’m a troll. What were they thinking?—they brought me here.”
Clematis clung to her arm. “You aren’t hurt?”
“A little,” she admitted, but then sniffled and shut her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I didn’t want to be alone.”
“They can’t keep us here.” Clematis looked furtively around at the others. Most of them were sitting quietly, their eyes downcast, but a few looked back at him with furious, frightened gazes.
“Yeah, I don’t think they have the right to detain us,” Mishi agreed.
Clematis turned back to her. “I have no clue about that, but they physically can’t hold us here. Do they know that?” He could fly away, take almost any injury and survive. Mishi could as well, and one set of plastic cuffs would not hold her unless she allowed it to. “Humans make no sense. Does this make them feel better to see us like this?” He pressed himself to her and released a shaky breath. “This has been a very emotional day.”
She snorted, surprised. “Dr. Jones kept roaring and telling people to stop, but those stupid Human Heritage people took that as a sign to get louder.”
“Dr. Jones.” Clematis briefly hid his face. The dragon was a PhD. “His husband and child are on campus. He was probably worried.”
“Oh. Oh no.” Mishi sucked in a breath. “Oh, I hope they’re okay. For his sake and for everyone else’s.”
Clematis shied away from any thoughts of what would happen if humans caused any harm to a dragon’s treasure; he knew that more than just one dragon would take it personally. He didn’t say anything fo
r several minutes, and neither did Mishi. It was enough to sit with her and try not to shake.
Then Mishi nudged him. “It’s good to see you, you know. Not like this, but… it’s been weird without you.”
He kept his eyes on the campus police but shook his head. “All I did was calm Flor down.”
“That is a lot. You don’t even know.” Mishi wriggled. “Could you scratch my nose, please?”
Clematis sat up straight so he could gently rub the tip of her nose. “Is there anything else I can do?” She shook her head, so he settled back against her side. “Do you think they’ll let us go soon?”
“I hope so. I have to pee.” Mishi grumbled under her breath. “They know I had nothing to do with anyone getting punched. But who do they nab? All the beings. You’re a fairy!”
Some fairies, certain fairies they both knew, were more than capable of punching someone. But Clematis didn’t argue. Humans would do what they always did. Blame the ones they were scared of instead of the ones who had caused it all.
“Why were you here anyway? To see him?” Mishi asked, maybe for something to do. The cement was unforgiving on Clematis’s ass. Mishi had to be very uncomfortable since she’d been here longer. “All he’ll tell us is that he’s waiting. He’s been a bear, just so you know. Never leave again. You shouldn’t anyway, because you’re a surprisingly stabilizing influence on everyone, but also for his sake.”
Despite everything, his wings stirred.
“Hey!” one of the campus officers shouted. “No flying!”
Clematis flinched and hunched down. “You know I’m not a threat. You’ve seen me around campus.”
“You’re also bleeding,” one of the other officers pointed out, and Clematis abruptly noticed the holes in the knees of his jeans. “Or were. And you spend time with the mouthy one and the others. So maybe you were more involved than you’re pretending. Now sit still and be quiet until we have all the agitators in custody.”