Gatewright (13 page)

Pain,
thirst, hunger, exhaustion, and cold beat at my consciousness.  I forced
myself to keep moving, one step after another.  Riven’s grim expression
reflected how I felt.  We’d survive as long as we kept moving, but right
now, it was hell. 

We
finally staggered into Nellysford that afternoon.  We got odd looks (and
no offers for rides) as we approached the center of town, past farms,
cul-de-sacs, new homes, and ranch houses.  Every step hurt.  My shirt
was still stained navy from fey blood, I was covered in dirt, my boots were
scarred and worn, and I probably stank.  Riven wasn’t much better
off.  The first promising building I spotted was a white church with a car
sitting in the gravel parking lot.  A modest steeple rose above the
pitched roof, and thick, unkempt hedges lined the sides.  The paint needed
work, and it struck me as cared for but suffering from the rampant poverty that
plagued rural, Appalachian America. Of all places, I hoped a church would let
me make a phone call.

I
thought about making Riven stay outside, in case they were one of the
denominations that were utterly convinced fey were devils.  The opposite
side of the coin was leaving Riven alone, defenseless, when he was so easily
identifiable, in his fey clothes and long hair, ripe for the pummeling by a
roaming band of human supremacists.  Small town Virginia was not generally
known for its tolerance.  I figured it would insult him less to just bring
him with me.

“What
manner of residence is this?”  Riven asked as I knocked on the front door.

“It’s
a temple.”  I explained in Anowir.  “A temple to the god that most
humans worship.”  Even if they disagreed about the specifics.

I
knocked at the door of the church again, waited another minute.  I scouted
around the building when I still didn’t get a response until I found a worn
wooden side door with vintage doorbell.  I heard it ‘ding’ inside, then
shuffling.  An older woman with grey, almost white hair, opened the
door.  She squinted at us with clear, pale blue eyes.  “Come in,
welcome to the Church of Jesus our Savior.  You both look like you have
come a great way.”  Her movements were stiff, the beginnings of
osteoporosis hunching her over, but not hindering her energy.  She
completely ignored how rough we both looked.  At least fey blood was a
different color, so it wasn’t totally obvious I was a killer.  “May I
offer you some dinner?”

“Thank
you,” I told her earnestly, stunned she’d taken the six-foot elf on her door in
such stride.  “Yes, please.”  It had been over two days since my last
actual meal outside of trail mix, mushrooms, and berries.

As
she led us to the kitchen,
Riven
whispered, “Is she a
priestess?”

“No,
I think she’s the church scribe.”

The
woman continued to chatter on.  “We had a potluck yesterday to celebrate
Pastor Ken’s 50
^th
birthday, and the Mitchells forgot to take their
pot roast home with them so I stuck it in the fridge.  I can heat that up
in a jiffy if you’ll wait just a few minutes.”

I
would have gnawed on it frozen, but manners got the best of me.  “Thank
you so much, you have no idea what we’ve been through.”

“Well,
I saw you didn’t have a car, so I assumed you must have walked here.  You
must be pilgrims.”  She smiled when she saw the hesitation on my face, and
continued with sticking the pot roast Tupperware in the old microwave. 
“Whether you realize it or not.  Almighty God brought you here, and I’ll be
taking care of you.”

I
was perfectly ok with that.  Being inside for the first day in so long
felt bizarre, as if I’d stepped through to yet another alternate reality. 
Our host, Mary, pointed us toward the bathrooms, and I gladly dragged myself to
the ladies’ room.

The
facilities were simple, with two stalls and ancient plumbing.  The mirror
was pocked with age, but didn’t conceal my own reflection.  I blinked in
horror.  How had my face become so gaunt so fast?  I washed my hands
and face as best I could, rubbing them until they were raw and pink.  The
skin on my face was peeling… I hadn’t realized that I’d been sunburned on top
of everything else.  The only thing I couldn’t get out were the dark blue
stains under my fingernails.  I returned to the kitchen to take a seat in
supreme relief.

Silence
settled as we ate the rest of the Mitchells’ pot roast; I struggled desperately
to eat slowly enough that I wouldn’t be horribly sick.  I barely refrained
from licking my bowl clean, and thanked her profusely.  Riven bested me on
that one, with formal thanks and bowing that I suspected was a bit excessive
even for the fey.  Human culture was definitely new to him.

“Could
I trouble you for one more thing?”  I asked our host, Mary.  “Could I
use your phone?”

She
led us upstairs to the church office, regaling us with stories about her five
grandchildren.  I excused myself for privacy, and dialed home.  It
was the only number I knew by heart anymore.

“Hello?” 
My stepfather’s voice, Nicholas.

“Um,
hi, this is Jan.  Is Mom there?”

“Jan! 
What are you doing back?  We expected you to be gone for another week.”

“Is. 
Mom.  There.” I repeated.

I
heard him holler for her, and I waited, tapping a lone paperclip against the
wood of the church’s desk. 
Finally
she picked
up.  “Jan?  What happened?”

“I
kinda need a pickup.  I’m in Nellysford.”

“How
did you end up
there
?  Shouldn’t you still be in Azry?”

“Um.
 Sort of.  And I have a friend with me.  It’s kind of a long
story, and honestly, I don’t get half of it myself.  But essentially, I
don’t have my wallet, and I need to get home.  The church lady has been
very nice to let me use the phone.”

I
heard Nick’s voice in the background as he demanded to know what was going on,
then Mom’s muffled voice as she told him to get the keys.

“Jan,
do you know the address?” she asked me calmly.

I
read her the address on the business cards on the desk. 

“Okay. 
Stay there, honey.  We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

I
thanked her and hung up the phone.

Alone
in the office, tears of relief ran down my face.  This ordeal was finally
over… or so I hoped.

I
caught up to Mary and Riven in the sanctuary, a lone “Happy 50
^th
Birthday” balloon drifting near the ceiling.  Riven listened politely,
kindly, as Mary told a 15-minute condensed version of the gospels to a fey who
literally had not heard the Good News.  I think she was having the time of
her life, and I waited until she was done, that awkward moment where she’d be
forced to ask Riven if he wanted to become a believer, to interrupt them. 
“My mom and Nick are on their way here to pick us up.”

Riven
acknowledged it, then turned back to Mary.  “What kind of magic did this
Jesus use?  None of our magic is able to transmute water to wine, although
I’m confident
amayi
could work with both.”

“Speaking
of which, what
can
magic do?”  I asked.  I had the time, and
at this point, it would probably be a good idea for me to know.

Riven
sounded like he was reciting a textbook.  “Manipulate the elements and touch
the…” he looked helplessly at me, and asked in Anowir, “What is the translation
of
lianti?”

I
frowned.  “It’s sort of like the essence of a person, right?”

He
nodded.  “It’s the part of the person that is anchored to the flow of
magic and the part that disappears when they die.”

“Soul,”
I decided.  “Maybe spirit?  But soul translates from what it sounds
like.”

Riven
turned back to Mary, who had watched our exchange in blank confusion. 
“Yes.  We can touch the soul.”

“So
the fey believe in the soul?”  Mary mused, and Riven nodded.

I
wondered if ‘touch the soul’ was
nagali
, but wasn’t confident. 
Jack had probably left something out in his explanation. 
Again. 
“How
did you know you were
atsili?
”  I asked, curious.  We knew so
little about magic.

“Mages
listen to the flow of magic.  Some of us hear different sounds, you might
say.  I hear best the flow of fire.  If I listen closely, I may be
able to hear a little bit of the flow of water, but nothing of wind, and
certainly not anything of earth.  Earth is the element most distant from
fire.”  His eyes crinkled with a smile and he switched to Anowir
again.  “At least for me, my ability was far from a surprise. 
Accidentally making a portal?  Now that’s something else.”

I
couldn’t help but return his smile, a moment of warmth after days of
cold.  Maybe everything would be ok.  I had my parents, Jack, Riven,
Rose
… we’d figure this out.  We were
alive.

Riven
and I stepped outside to wait, but we didn’t have to sit on the old concrete
stairs for long.  Just half an hour after I’d called, my mom pulled up
with Nicholas in the Jeep.  They must have broken the speed limit the
whole way.  The gravel flew as they pulled in to the church parking lot,
and Riven looked about ready to firebomb the strange, roaring metal machine.
 My mother was out of the car before it fully stopped, running forward
with a cry to grip me like I was going to slip out of her fingers. 
Breathing was difficult, but I savored the smell of her shampoo and relaxed a little.

As
soon as she was satisfied I was indeed physically present, she stood back to
inspect me.  I couldn’t help but grin with giddy relief.  Nick jogged
up to join her.  “What happened?” she asked.  I guess I didn’t seem
too traumatized, because she added, “you look like hell swallowed you up and
spat you out.”

Riven
jumped in, speaking in Anowir.  “Don’t tell her that you made the
gate.  Blame it on me.”

The
attention of both of Mom and Nick snapped to Riven, really seeing him for the
first time.  My mother surveyed him up and down with a raised eyebrow, and
she gripped my shoulder protectively.

“Gonna
take all the credit, huh?”  I growled at him.  “Why can’t they know?”

“Just
do it,
” he said, exasperated.

I
muttered something impolite and turned back to my cautious, bewildered parents.
 Hadn’t they ever heard me speak Anowir before?  “Mom, Nick, this is
Riven, one of our fey guides.  He made a gate because there was an
emergency in Azry.”  I looked back to Riven, trying to find a way to
explain our strange relationship.  Indigo eyes met mine, patiently
listening, allowing me to take the lead.  I needed to convince my parents
that he was a friend, but his vow was far too personal to wave in their faces. 
“Riven saved my life.”  A slight smile flickered across his face, and I
couldn’t help but respond in kind.

 I
thought for a moment before continuing, trying to figure out how to keep my
mother calm. “We’ve been walking through the woods for a little longer than we
would have liked.  Right now, three things sound absolutely amazing: a
shower, a beer, and my bed.”  I hid my pain as best as I could; they
didn’t need to know how long and how far we’d walked.  Invoking
hypothermia and starvation would not improve the situation.

“That
can be arranged,” Nicholas declared, and stepped forward to offer Riven a
handshake.  “Thank you for protecting Jan.”

Riven
opened and closed his hand a few times, almost in practice, before delicately
holding Nicholas’ sturdier grip.  Nick was forced to do the actual shaking
himself, and Riven’s face twitched with distaste.  Nick sized him up
suspiciously, not oblivious to Riven’s discomfort.

Nick
was kind and thoughtful enough to leave a generous donation at the church,
after I briefly introduced them to Mary and thanked her for her
hospitality.  I limped into the back seat of the yellow Jeep, one step
closer to home.  Riven followed, cautiously examining the vehicle and its
interior.  “I assume this is what is called a ‘car’?” he asked.

I
explained to Riven how to use a seatbelt, and once we hit 30 mph, his eyes grew
wide.  By the time we hit 50, he was gripping the panic bar.  He put
on a brave face, but it reminded me distinctly of when I had to drive my
roommate’s cat across town.  If he had had claws, they would have been
firmly embedded in the upholstery.

Thomas
panicked as soon as he saw who was knocking, and for good reason.  He’d
only opened the door a crack, trying to block my apartment from view, but I
shoved him out of the way in irritation.  My mouth hung open as I took in
my dear, tiny home.  I’d thought my place was a mess when I’d
left. 
Now it had graduated to spectacular disaster.  My brother’s dirty
clothes were spread everywhere, along with empty PBR cans and my entire set of
mismatched dishware.  I was glad I’d hidden the liquor and wine, but if
he’d drunk my last beer I would have his head on a pike.

“Jan,
what the hell?”  Thomas protested.  “You said you wouldn’t be back
for weeks yet!  And why is Mom with you?”  He squinted past me and
saw Nick and Riven.  “
And
Dad?  And who the hell is
that?  Is that a
FEY?
”  He refocused on me.  “And you
look like shit.  What is that blue stuff on you?”  His brows furrowed
as he began to get the idea that things had not gone as planned.

“Now
you ask,” I breathed. 

My
mother suddenly recovered from gaping in horror at my apartment, zeroing in on
her wayward son.  “Thomas Lawrence, get your things
now.
  You
are going home.”

He
instantly dived into the room, trying in vain to toss PBR cans without his
parents noticing, but stealth had never been his strong suit.  My mother,
like the Terminator on a mission, walked after him, shoulders stiff with fury.
 Hands full of clothes, he dashed into the bedroom, Mom hot on his heels. 
My eye twitched slightly.  I was definitely changing the sheets before I
laid down in there.

Nick
left Riven with me and went to join the rest of the family in my bedroom,
shutting the door behind him.  My mother’s voice started to rise, and I
grimaced, recalling her wrath all too well.  I’d done worse, but I hadn’t
gotten caught, thanks to Rose.

Riven
stared at my apartment in wide-eyed wonder.  “Is this a standard human
lodging?”

“Well,
it’s never this much of a mess.  But if you mean as far as size, I can’t
afford anything better.”  I kicked off my shoes in profound relief, then
dug through a pile of sports magazines to find my long-neglected
cellphone.  “I only work part-time.”  As I waited for my phone to
boot up, I tried to offer him a better perspective.  “In some places in
the world, this would be luxury.  In America, this is standard for the
poor.”

“I’ve
never been to other lands in Azry,” Riven admitted wistfully.  “Although I
think this latest adventure of ours should count for quite a lot.”

My
phone finally started warbling with a storm of notifications. Ten voicemails,
twelve text messages, and almost fifty emails.  That was going to have to
wait.  “What’s that?” Riven asked.  I hadn’t heard him approach, and
now he was looking over my shoulder, peering at the display.

“A
cellphone.  We use it for long-distance communication.”

“I’ve
heard of those!” he exclaimed.  “How far does it reach?”

“Pretty
much anywhere in the world, if you’re willing to pay the bill.” I answered
frankly.

“In
the world?”  Riven’s eyebrows shot up. “Not just in this county, but
reaches others?  How long does it take the message to reach?”

“Instantly. 
You can have a conversation as if you were in the same room.”

Riven
paled, and looked vaguely sick.  “Mass coordination without distance as a
factor.”

I
nodded, disturbed by how seriously he was taking in my phone.  It wasn’t
like we were planning an invasion. 
Oh, shit, were we?
  I’d
been out of the loop for a couple of weeks.

My
bedroom door opened to reveal Thomas with a duffel of all of his things, face
dark with teenage rage.  Honestly, he took after my mother more than I
did.  Nicholas almost forcibly dragged him out of the house and
potentially into rehab.  For better or worse, Nick had always cut me a
good deal of slack.  From his face, Thomas wasn’t getting that
privilege. 

My
mother’s eyes still flashed as she saw them out of the door.  “I sent them
home.  Thomas will be back soon to clean up.”  I translated that to
“free maid service for a year” with a smile.

“Mom,
you should go home with them,” I encouraged her.

Her
eyes darted to Riven.  “I don’t want to leave you alone here.  He may
have helped you before, but that doesn’t mean he’s got your best interests at heart. 
He might just have been trying to save his own skin.”

Oh,
shit.
 She didn’t know Riven spoke English. She’d only
heard him speaking Anowir.  I carefully refused to check his reaction and
chose my words carefully.  “He’s following the fey code of honor.  He
is currently my guest.  He won’t harm me.  You should go home,
Mom.  Please.”

“You
call
me if you need anything.  Anything at all.  I’m only
fifteen minutes away.”  She frowned at Riven in warning and reluctantly
left, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

“I’m
sorry about that, Riven.”

He
shrugged.  “You are her child.  It’s understandable.”

I
breathed out in relief. “If you’ll excuse me, I desperately need a
shower.  Please feel free to help yourself to whatever you find.”  I
ducked out of the room, grabbed a change of clothes from the bedroom.  At
least it wasn’t a disaster like the living room and kitchen.  It was more
or less how I’d left it.  I shrugged out of my coat, and realized Jack’s
knife was still in my coat pocket.  I’d gotten so used to its weight I’d
almost tossed it.  The coat itself went into the trash can, as much as it
pained me.  There was no way I was ever getting the dark stains out.

I
held the knife, torn.  On one hand, I’d survived because of it.  On
the other hand, I’d killed a fey.  I wanted to clutch it to my chest and
never let go; I wanted to throw it out of the window. 
Throwing away
this knife won’t bring them back. 
And it might save my life
again.  With the knife and my change of clothes, I shut myself in the
bathroom, and enjoyed the wonderful world of an actual shower.  It may
have been the longest shower I’d ever taken.  I tossed the rest of my
bloodstained clothes.

I
came out refreshed, rubbing my face to get the last of the grime off.  My
joints and muscles still ached painfully, but I’d bandaged my tattered feet
thoroughly enough that at least I didn’t feel the sharp pain of the blisters.
 After I’d scrubbed and dried Jack’s knife, I’d considered putting away my
tiger’s eye necklace, the only other object that had survived Azry with
me.  Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was indeed a good luck
charm.  A memory flashed, the stone warm on my chest when I’d considered
jumping into the carriages.  Perhaps it was magic after all.  I
fastened it securely on my neck, after I scrubbed the last of dried blue blood
from its setting.  The knife fit snugly in the front pocket of my cargo
pants.

Riven
sat stiffly at the kitchen table, uneasy in the strange environment.  His
eyes flicked to the knife and the stone, noting both without expression. 
Behind him, all of my dishes sparkled from the drying rack.  So that’s why
the shower had suddenly run cool a few times.  “Hey, thanks for doing the
dishes!”  I exclaimed.  “Did you eat?”

He
shook his head.

“There’s
food in the refrigerator.”  I pointed, in case he hadn’t gotten that in
his English primer.  “Also in the cabinets.  We use a lot of
packaging,
you can just throw it away.  You are welcome
to sleep on the bed, since you are my guest.  I’ll sleep on the couch,” I
offered.

“Guest?”
He shook his head. “Guardian, perhaps.  Sleep in your own bed.” I didn’t
argue.  I liked my bed.  A lot.

I
brought him my baggiest tee and a pair of my sweatpants.  Nothing else I
had would remotely fit him, unless I gave him a dress. I wasn’t sure if he
would accept my clothes, bright yellow, polka dots and all, but I wanted to
give him the chance to get out of his fey clothes and into something
fresher.  Specifically, something that didn’t smell of unwashed fey.

Without
hesitation, he stripped off his stained tunic.  I’d never seen a fey
shirtless before, and couldn’t help but stare openly.  His ribs were
clearly visibly under his pale skin.  He might have been skinny for a fey
to start with, and a few days of starvation had obviously taken their
toll.  Disturbed, I was almost glad when my t-shirt went over his
head.  What I didn’t expect was that he would strip off his pants then and
there.  I spun away as soon as I realized he’d grasped his waistband.

“Why
are you peering at the wall?” he asked me curiously.

Of
course.  Fey were entirely comfortable with nudity.  How to explain
it?  “Um, it’s not polite to view a naked person.”  Well, that wasn’t
entirely
true.  “In America.  Nakedness is generally reserved
for intimacy,” I stammered.

“I
am clothed,” he reassured me a moment later, and when I turned around, I had to
struggle not to giggle at the bright yellow sweatpants.  They were the
biggest I had, and fit snugly around his hips, but ended mid-calf.  “I
apologize if I offended.”

“No
offense taken!  Learn something new every day, right?”  I went
straight to the kitchen, looking for something to feed him.  “Say, you
hungry?”

My
beer was indeed all gone, thanks to Thomas and perhaps a few of his friends,
but he had left a box of semi-stale donuts.  We dug in, and I couldn’t
help but feel sorrow for the half-starved fey inhaling junk food.  In
between bites, I rested my hand on his arm.  “We’ll get you home,” I
assured him.

He
looked from me to my hand in confusion, and I belatedly remembered how the fey
interpreted physical contact.  I yanked my hand back, and felt the impulse
to justify myself.  “I just want you to be comfortable.”