Forests of the Heart

by Charles de Lint

  Fiona gave her a considering look. “You mean for real?”

  Miki nodded.

  “You’re supposed to tell me you’re kidding now,” Fiona said.

  “I’m serious.”

  “And that’s what’s scaring me,” Fiona said. “I mean, I like getting spooked as much as the next person. A little Anne Rice. Checking out Scream and stuff like that. But then I always have the comfort of knowing that when I close the book, or leave the theater, I’m back in the real world.”

  “I’m not going to be able to do that.”

  “You’ve actually seen these guys?”

  “I’ve been on the periphery of them all my life,” Miki told her. “I guess I was just lucky that I didn’t catch their attention until now.”

  “And your brother’s connection is?”

  “He thinks they’re going to make him immortal, too. That they’ll give him the power to pay back every wrong that’s ever been done to him, imagined or real, and nobody’ll be able to call him on it because he’ll be this supernatural hard man then, too. Just like them. One of the Gentry.”

  “Why do you keep calling them that?”

  Miki shrugged. “That’s just the way everybody referred to them when I was growing up. Calling them by their real names is supposed to be bad luck— puts their attention on you and you don’t want that because they’ll turn you into a newt or something.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “I know,” Miki said. “It’s a lot to swallow. I’m surprised you haven’t laughed me out of the room by now.”

  Fiona gave her a funny look. “I guess,” she said after a moment, “it’s because no matter how rational we think we are, we always suspect that there’s more out there than we can see. It’s like the old boogieman under the bed, as if—right? I know he’s not there, not really, but I still don’t sleep with a foot or a hand hanging over the edge of the bed.”

  “But it’s just me telling you about it,” Miki said. “You don’t have any proof that any of it’s true.”

  “No. But I’ve worked with you for a long time now and the Miki I’ve always known isn’t the same as the Miki who came into the store with Hunter this morning. I knew something really weird and serious had happened to you and it wasn’t just your apartment getting trashed. You’ve been through a lot of shit and that kind of thing would only piss you off.”

  “I was pissed off.”

  “Yeah, but you were scared, too.”

  Miki nodded. That was true. It was still true.

  “And I guess I’m kind of primed for this sort of thing,” Fiona went on. She waved her hand in the general direction of her Anne Rice books and the skull on her mantle. “For it to be, you know, more than just make-believe.”

  They fell silent then. Miki returned her attention to the wet streets outside. The last CD they’d been playing had finished, but Fiona didn’t get up to put on a new one.

  “So do you really think they’re going to come after you?” Fiona asked. “That they could track you down here?”

  “I don’t know. They’re probably not even thinking about me anymore. I’m no threat to them and they made their point in my apartment this morning.”

  “Except you hold grudges, too, don’t you?”

  Miki shrugged.

  “And if they don’t know it, Donal will.” Fiona shook her head. “I know he’s a self-centered little shit, but I can’t believe he’d take sides against you.”

  “Yeah. That… hurts.”

  More than she could possibly put into words.

  “So maybe we should do something,” Fiona said. “Protect ourselves.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. We could call the number Jessica gave me for the Creek woman and ask her advice.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Or barricade the door. Or—”

  At that moment the power died and they both jumped with fright. A sudden stillness settled over the dark apartment. All the normal murmurings of fridges and clocks and the like were gone. And because of the weather, the streets outside echoed that strange oppressive quiet.

  “Do … do you think they had anything to do with this?” Fiona said.

  “No, it’s just the weather,” Miki told her, hoping she was right. “Look. They still have power across the street. I guess they’re on a different part of the grid.”

  “Why doesn’t this comfort me?”

  Miki laid her accordion on the floor and stood up.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s light some of those candles of yours.”

  “And make sure the front door is locked.”

  Miki hesitated a moment, head cocked to listen, sure for a moment that she heard Gentry boots on the stairs coming up to Fiona’s apartment.

  “And make sure the door’s locked,” she agreed.

  14

  It was almost midnight before Donal finally made it up to Kellygnow. He never did find his van and it took forever to flag down a cab, mostly because there were none out on the street by the time he left Hunter at Miki’s apartment. Who could blame them? The weather was worse than foul and there were no fares to be had anyway. The whole city was shutting down. Donal trudged past closed restaurants, convenience stores, clubs, theaters, diners. The only people he met were city and hydro workers. The only vehicles belonged to police and other emergency services, so there were no rides to be had. He was happy to keep his distance from the former and wouldn’t have presumed on the latter.

  But a cab eventually stopped for him. The driver was off duty, on his way home and heading west anyway. He took pity on Donal, driving him across town and over the river at Lakeside Drive, before finally letting him out at the bottom of Handfast Road. Donal tried to pay for the ride, but the cabbie shook his head.

  “Do somebody else a good turn,” he said.

  “Thanks, mate,” he told the cabbie. “I will.”

  Maybe stick a blade in the guts of one of the Gentry. Rip the smug smirking grin from a hard man’s gob as he felt his life turning to shite and bleeding away on him. That’d make for a good turn wouldn’t it?

  “Drive carefully,” he added as he shut the cab door.

  He stood in the freezing rain and watched as the vehicle pulled a one-eighty, piece of cake on the icy street, and headed back across the river. Donal was impressed. You had to be a damn fine driver to pull a trick like that in these conditions. When the cab’s taillights finally blinked out behind the hump in the road that rose up in the middle of the bridge, he started up Handfast. And got nowhere.

  The road proved impassable. It was so steep and slick with ice that he couldn’t get a foothold. Eventually, he went by the back way, up through the backyards of the big expensive estates, breaking the thick crust of ice on top of the snow with each step. It was just as wet and miserable as being on the street, but Jaysus, at least he had traction. For the first time since he’d left the hotel where he’d woken up earlier this evening, he felt as though he was actually in full command of his own limbs, instead of simply trying to keep his balance. Still, the going was slow.

  The night was full of sound as he went. He kept hearing the sharp crack of tree limbs breaking, the thumps of the branches falling, the tinkle like breaking glass as the smaller twigs and bits of broken ice went skittering across the crusted ice.

  Halfway up he saw the huge limb of a Manitoba maple split from the main tree trunk and come crashing down on the side of a house, stoving in the roof, walls, windows. The house’s security system kicked in and a shrill alarm began to bleat.

  Donal paused, wondering if he should see if anyone needed help, but then shook his head and continued on. The fat buggers in these houses thought they shat roses. Let them have a little taste of real hardship. Do ‘em bloody good.

  The alarm followed him up the hill, until it was suddenly turned off. He glanced back, but the place was out of sight by now. His gaze moved on to take in what he could see of the city through the winter-bare trees. The carpet
of lights he’d been expecting was present, but there were patches here and there where areas were blacked out. Power failures. As he watched, another section, a few dozen blocks, winked out, just like that.

  Jaysus, what a bloody night. It was like magic, more power to it. The whole world feeling a bit of his own misery. Inconvenienced, are you? Power failed and you can’t run out and spend your cash? Well, sod you. Sod on the lot of you.

  He was grinning as he finally made it up through the trees behind Kellygnow, soaked to the skin and shivering, legs aching from the hard trek of breaking through the ice crust with each step.

  “In a good mood, are we?” a voice asked him from out of the darkness.

  “Why not?” he replied. “It’s a fucking beautiful night.”

  One of the Gentry stepped out from the trees, a smile flickering on his lips.

  “You’re the hard little shite, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Maybe. But not as hard as you lot.”

  “Don’t you forget that, boyo.”

  All Donal wanted to do was grab him and start pounding his Gentry head against the nearest tree, but that would serve no purpose except to allow him to vent his anger. There was no percentage in it. Nothing to be gained. Donal could be patient. Time enough to deal with them when he had the mask. Until then, they were simply walking dead men, so far as he was concerned. But powerful enough in their own way. No need to test their mettle.

  So he put on a friendly mask, the one he always wore around the Gentry, a little hard, a lot wary. They liked it that he stood up for himself, but they liked to think they scared him, too. He could accommodate them. He’d always been good with masks, but then most people were. Who showed their true face, their true feelings, anymore? The Green Man mask would simply be one more, though more potent to be sure. When he had that, all the other masks could be thrown away.

  For now he squinted at the hard man. He was looking for something you wouldn’t know was there unless you knew to keep an eye out for it. The heavy sleet continued to pound down on him while the hard man was unaffected and Donal knew why. It was because he stood between, in that uncertain and shifting place that separated this world from faerie. It wasn’t a place Donal could find on his own, but with the hard man there, he could mark its boundaries. He slid a foot forward, concentrated on not looking straight at it, coming to it sideways, and then he was there, too, watching the rain, rather than feeling it, sensing the cold, but untouched by it.

  He wiped the water from his face, raked his fingers through beard and hair to break up and dislodge the ice that had crusted on it. That was better.

  “What’re you up to tonight, boyo?” the hard man asked him.

  “I’ve come to see Ellie, but I got a little delayed by the weather.”

  “She’s gone. Drove off in that van.”

  With Tommy, Donal thought, translating the shorthand. So they’d actually gone off to make their rounds in the Angel Outreach minivan. Well, good luck to them in this weather. Considering what he’d seen on the way over, the only people they’d be serving up toddies and treats to would be police and repairmen.

  “She’ll be back,” Donal said.

  The hard man shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. There’s been a problem.”

  Donal turned to look at him.

  “Your man in the music store,” the hard man said.

  “Hunter?”

  “That’s a good name for him, considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “How he’s up and murdered one of us.”

  Donal’s eyes widened slightly, the mask almost slipping. Jaysus, he thought. Good on you, Hunter. I didn’t think you had it in you. But you’d better run far and fast now because you’ve gone and signed your own bloody death warrant, don’t think for a moment you haven’t.

  “So what have you done with him?” he asked.

  “Nothing. He’s under her protection.”

  “Her?”

  “An dealbhóir. The sculptor.”

  “Ah.”

  None of this made sense. What was Ellie doing with Hunter when she was supposed to be out in the van with Tommy? And then there was Hunter himself, killing one of the Gentry. Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph. How was that possible? A few days ago Hunter had been incapacitated by a simple sucker punch, and now he was killing Gentry?

  “So now what will you do?” Donal asked the hard man.

  He shrugged. “We’re thinking on it.”

  They were cunning, these hard men, capable of putting together plots of Machiavellian complexity, but not particularly bright, for all that. The thinking could take a long time, so maybe Hunter had a chance. If he traveled fast and far enough.

  “Well, I’m off,” the hard man told him. “There’s a thought an dealbhóir might be reconsidering her bargain.”

  That made Donal snap to attention.

  “She wouldn’t,” he assured the man.

  Jaysus, she’d better not, or he’d be left without a bargain himself.

  “Then why’s she heading north?” the hard man asked. “Into the mountains where the enemy lives?”

  “There’s some reasonable explanation.”

  The hard man shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find out. The others are already on their way. We’ll follow and see who she meets, and if it goes badly …” He ran a finger across his throat. “We can find another.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  The hard man gave another shrug. “We can be patient.”

  “But to be so close.”

  “Aye, there’s the rub. You ask me, we’ve been listening too much to the old hag in her cabin. Since when did we need a mask to have our way? Why rule, when you can simply kill?”

  “Because there’s so many of them. A Green Man can run them off the land like lemmings over a cliff.”

  The hard man spat. “I don’t like it.”

  As he started to walk away, Donal called after him: “Do you mind if I hang about awhile? Stay dry while I’m waiting for Ellie to come back?”

  He knew they didn’t like anyone messing about in their territory and if this between wasn’t, then what was?

  “Might be a long wait,” the hard man told him. “And what happened to the fucking beautiful night you were telling me about?”

  “Lost its charm with your cheery news.”

  The hard man laughed. “Do what you want. But watch out for the shadow. The little shite’s been sniffing around again tonight.”

  Donal had yet to fully understand what the shadow was, and why the Gentry didn’t simply get rid of him if he bothered them so.

  “I’ll be careful,” he said.

  “Like I give a fuck,” the hard man told him.

  Donal watched him slip away under the trees until he was lost from sight. The smile on his face disappeared and he turned back to look at the house. It wasn’t quick he wanted them to die, but slow. Let them remember every cold word and disdainful smirk they’d given him.

  He slid down, back against a tree, and sat on the ground, dry here, in the between, tufts of dried grass cushioning his rear.

  Don’t mess this up on me, Ellie, he thought.

  He’d wait here until morning, then go round by the house whether she was back or not. Worm his way inside, look around. That Spanish woman fancied him, no matter what Ellie thought. She’d be his ticket.

  Because he had his own ideas about how necessary a new mask was. The old one had belonged to a hundred Kings in the Wood in its time, bestowing a Green Man’s mantle on them all. Who was to say it wasn’t potent enough for one more change on its own, just as it was? The Gentry couldn’t know. It needed a mortal man to work its enchantment, and they were anything but.

  Still, they could die by a mortal’s hand. Hunter had proved that much. Truth was, he hadn’t been so sure, for all his brave words to Hunter.

  He shook his head, still surprised. Jaysus. Hunter killing a man. Who’d have thought he’d find the balls?

  Been hanging
around with me too much, he thought with a grin. A little bit of courage had to have worn off on him.

  15

  Once Tommy agreed to drive up to the rez, Ellie didn’t want to waste any time, decision made, let’s do it. But it wasn’t that simple. For one thing, the van would never make it, not unless they had it towed up there by some treaded behemoth like a front-end loader. So after they cleared off the windshield yet again, Tommy drove them back to Grasso Street where they could swap the van for his pickup. While he and Hunter transferred what they needed from the van to Tommy’s truck—more warm clothes, blankets, candles, and the like, which the residents of the rez might be needing about now— she went inside to replenish their supplies and check in with Angel.

  The office was deserted, but there was a note from Angel on the desk addressed to all of the volunteers saying that they should call it a night.

  “Okay, it’s a night,” Ellie muttered as she continued to read.

  Angel herself was working with a couple of the local churches, prepping basements and meeting halls for shelters in case they were needed and anyone was welcome to come down and help out, but the streets had become too treacherous for them to keep the vans out tonight.

  Ellie felt a little guilty that they were taking off and abandoning Angel like this, but she didn’t see that they had any other choice. There were times when your personal life took over and if this didn’t count as one of them, then what did? Thank god she didn’t have to explain things to Angel—where would she even have begun? Considering how little patience Angel had for Jilly’s stories, it would have been a tough sell.

  Happily, all she had to do was scrawl a note at the bottom of Angel’s, letting her know that they’d brought the van back and were safe. She chewed on the end of the pen for a moment, wondering if she should add that they were going up to the rez, then decided that it would only give Angel something to worry about. And what if the Gentry came by and read it? That’d be all they’d need, to have those guys realize that she was backing out of whatever deal they thought she’d made with them. Better the three of them just lost themselves up on the rez and hope that Tommy’s aunts could sort something out for them.