The Year's Best Dark Fantasy and Horror (81 page)

Tom takes off the hat, unhooks his wings and steers Sam into the backseat. He puts the hat and wings beside him. When he straightens up he looks at me.

“Did you drive here?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I’m taking the bus home.”

“I’ll give you a lift when I get back.”

“Or he could just stay the night,” Juliana says.

Tom laughs. “Or you could stay the night.” He gives Juliana a gentle poke in the shoulder. “But not in your room, young missy.”

I’ve never been around people like this before. Is this how the rest of the world lives?

“Thanks again, Joey,” he says. “I’ll see you kids later.”

I walk Juliana around to the passenger’s side, then get in the car myself. I adjust the rear-view mirror and see that Sam’s already passed out.

“So what’s he supposed to be dressed as?” I ask.

“What’s he wearing?” When I describe his outfit, she says, “He’s a steampunk faerie.”

“Should I ask?”

“It’s a faerie look inspired by a mash-up of—oh, I don’t know. Jules Verne and
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
with maybe a dash of Tim Powers and some pirates.”

“I’ve no idea what that means.”

She smiles. “It’s just another look. It hasn’t been around long but Dad likes it because they’re really into the tooled leather.”

I start up the car.

“I forgot to ask your dad for directions,” I say.

“There’s a GPS in the glove compartment, but I can tell you where to go. I won’t be able to tell if you make a wrong turn, but we should be fine.”

“I’m in your hands.”

For some reason that makes her giggle, which is just as endearing as her laugh, and I realize I’m in trouble.

When it comes to girls, I’m not the most experienced guy in the world. I’ve never fallen for one before; I’ve just hooked up. Stoned or drunk at a party, maybe in one of the bars in VV that will look the other way for a minor who’s got the cash. The longest “relationship” I’ve had lasted a weekend.

And I’m not saying I had a lot of hook-ups, though to be honest, I can’t really remember. Those days just blur into each other. I remember my times in juvie, but I was sober then. Juvie’s like jail: rehab for poor people, and it doesn’t usually take. But I’m good right now. Ten months and seven days, counting jail time. That’s the longest I’ve been straight since I was twelve.

I remember how scared I was, the first few times I got locked up. But this is scarier. Maybe Juliana’s just slumming, having some fun as she flirts with me. But if she’s not, if she’s feeling anything like what I’m feeling, I’ve got to step up to a world of responsibility. I’ve got to do right by her. And for damn sure I can’t start something I can’t finish.

I’m getting way ahead of myself. Who knows what she’s thinking? But that’s the funny thing about hope.

I opt to use the GPS so we don’t get lost. We drop Sam off at his apartment. I take him upstairs and get him laid out on top of his bed.

“You’re on your own now,” I tell him.

He pushes his face into his pillow and I doubt he hears me leave. When he wakes up he probably won’t even know that I was here in the first place or that I drove him home.

Back in the car, I set the GPS to “home” and read out the address it gives me.

“That’s us,” she says.

It’s not far to the Hills’ house and I’m feeling nervous right up until when we pull into the driveway. I was expecting something fancy, all modern lines and expensive. I see old buses and cars parked along one side of the property. The house itself is a bungalow that’s been added onto a few times so that it does this zigzag walk into the backyard. A couple of lanky dogs get up off the porch to greet us and I feel right at home because none of this would be out of place back on the rez.

“That’s Lucky and Bud,” Juliana says as the dogs push their noses into my crotch.

I move them away.

“I would have thought they’d have faerie names,” I say as I help her out of the car and walk her towards the porch.

“What, like Titania and Oberon?”

“I don’t know who they are, but yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Can you see these guys with faerie tale names?” she asks as Bud shoves his nose back into my crotch.

“I guess not.”

I’m not saying she was particularly timid moving around earlier, but she gets way more confident as soon as we step onto the porch. I suppose it’s got something to do with her being on home ground. If I were in her position I’d have memorized where everything is and all the steps in between.

She takes a key out of her pocket and fits it smoothly into the lock, using a finger to guide her. Swinging the door open, she reaches around the doorjamb to turn on an overhead light. I follow her inside. The dogs collapse back on the porch like they suddenly have no bones.

The room we’re in is the kitchen—a big friendly and very cluttered space with rustic furniture standing shoulder-to-shoulder with modern appliances. From where we stand I can see another room past the kitchen. It’s poorly lit at the moment but it seems just as welcoming and cluttered.

“Want to see my room?” she asks.

I laugh. “Maybe later.”

When her parents are home.

“Okay. How about some coffee or tea?”

“Sure, I—look, I’m new at this, but I’m just going to go with the assumption that if you need help with anything, you’ll ask for it. Is that okay?”

She smiles as she effortlessly finds the kettle, fills it, then takes a couple of mugs and a box of some herbal tea down from a cupboard.

“That’s one of the things I like about you, Joey,” she says as she plugs the kettle in. “With most people my disability is like a third person in the room that we don’t really want to have hanging around, but there she is all the same.”

“Don’t you think that people are just being sympathetic? That they only want to help you?”

“Oh, I know that’s most of it. But it also makes everything awkward because they can’t forget about it either. So it never just feels normal.”

I feel bad for her. I think about how few people there are in the world that I’m close to. But that’s always been my choice—or if I’m going to be honest, the result of the bad decisions I used to make. The thing is, I never really tried to fix it. Juliana’s had it pushed on her through no fault of her own.

When the tea’s ready she leads me through the cluttered dining room into an equally cluttered living room where we sit together on a fat sofa. But for all the books and magazines and what-have-you scattered around I notice that the spaces between the furniture are all clear.

“So tell me more about faeries in Baltimore,” I say to keep the mood lighter. “Or maybe this Bordertown you were talking about.”

“Only if you’ll tell me more about Jimmy Littlecreek.”

“Deal. But you first.”

“It’ll be easier to show you,” she says. “Are you coming back to FaerieCon tomorrow?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. Do you think I should?”

She taps her fist against my shoulder. “Of course I do. It’ll be fun.”

“I can’t really get away until later on in the day. We’re doing the set-up for a motivational speaker tomorrow.”

“That’s okay. Things don’t get hopping until the evening. Everybody gets all dolled up and parades around the halls and then we all go to the Good Faeries’ Ball. Mom says she’s got some surprise outfit for me that she picked up in Eugene—that’s where she’s been, visiting a friend from college.”

“I don’t really do costumes,” I tell her. “Even back on the rez. At the powwows, I was always the kid sitting under the bleachers swapping a bottle with the other reprobates and making fun of the dancers.”

Her hand brushes my arm, butterfly light. “You really have had a hard life, haven’t you?”

“It’s just what it was,” I say. “I’m working on making it different.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence and I wonder if I’ve said too much and who knows what’s going on in her head because of it?

“So, let’s forget about that stuff for now,” I say. “What about this Good Faeries’ Ball?”

She brightens up. “There’s live music and dancing and just, you know, fun. But you’d probably like the dance on Saturday night better. That’s when we have the Bad Faeries’ Ball.”

“You think I’m more into bad faeries?”

“No, but you’re a guy and the girls wear some pretty sexy outfits.”

“And are you going to have a bad faerie costume?”

She smiles. “I’m thinking about it. I guess it depends on if Mom’s willing to help and Dad’ll let me out the door.”

I laugh. “So they’re
that
sexy, are they?”

“You’ll just have to come and find out.”

I want to put my arm around her shoulders. No, that’s not true. I want to lie naked with her on the sofa and forget about everything else in the world but her. But if I know anything, too much too soon is never a good thing if you want to stay in it for the long run. Doesn’t matter how flirty she is with me. Except then she rests her head on my shoulder and I think the hell with it. I put an arm around her and lean down to where her lips are lifting towards mine and then headlights flash on the walls and we hear the tires of a car crunching on the dirt and stones of the driveway.

She sits up, though she doesn’t move away from me.

“Perfect timing,” she says ruefully.

I start to move my arm away but she lifts a hand to hold it in place.

“Come to the Good Faeries’ Ball with me tomorrow,” she says, “and I’ll let you take me to the Bad Faeries’ Ball on Saturday night. And no,” she adds as I hesitate, “you don’t have to wear a costume. You can be my mortal consort.”

“I’ll be there,” I tell her.

The kitchen door opens and I stand up to meet her mother.

Alana Hill gives me a glimpse of the beauty that Juliana’s going to grow into. She’s a tall, striking woman with a spill of long reddish-gold hair that hangs almost to her waist in a waterfall of curls. After the introductions have been made she holds onto my hand and studies me for longer and with a more penetrating seriousness than her husband did.

“Mom,” Juliana says.

Her mother finally lets go of my hand. I can’t tell if I passed muster or not, but at least she smiles.

“Come on,” Tom says. “I’ll give you a lift home. And thanks again for helping me out.”

“Can I come?” Juliana asks.

I figure that’s not going to happen, not with her mother having just come home from being halfway across the country. Alana looks to her husband who gives her a helpless shrug.

“Of course you can go,” Alana says.

Juliana takes my arm, but we all know she doesn’t need any guidance here in her own home.

“We shouldn’t be long,” Tom says.

Uncle Herbert’s building isn’t much to look at, but I already know that the Hills are pretty casual when it comes to this sort of thing. They’re not going to judge me on where I live. Tom pulls the station wagon over to the curb.

“Look the other way, Dad,” Juliana says, then leans over and kisses me. “So, see you tomorrow?”

She sits back in her seat before I have a chance to react.

I nod. “Soon as I get off work. Thanks for the lift, Mr. Hill.”

“Just Tom’s fine.”

“Then thanks for the lift, Just Tom.”

Tom smiles and Juliana giggles as I get out of the car.

After they pull away, I stand there outside Uncle Herbert’s apartment building watching until the taillights disappear. When I go inside, I feel like I’m walking on a cloud.

Uncle Herbert is still up, which means he trusted me enough to go off on my own, but he was still worried. He smiles at what I’m guessing is the goofy look on my face.

“You’re looking happy,” he says.

“Yeah, I—I just never had such a good buzz before that didn’t come out of a pipe or a bottle.”

“Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Joey. Do you think you’re the only person in this family that ever had a problem with booze?”

“Are you saying—”

He waves the question off and pushes himself out of the chair.

“We can trade war stories some other time,” he says. “Right now I’m going to bed.”

I do the same. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. But I lie in bed for a time, just grinning at the ceiling, and when I do fall asleep, instead of dreaming about being back in juvie, I dream about people who not only walk around with faerie wings, but they can fly, too.

As soon as we get finished up with the job on Saturday, I go home and take a shower. Afterward I’m standing there in my jeans looking at the half-dozen T-shirts I own when Uncle Herbert comes in. Maybe Juliana won’t be able to see what I’m wearing in any kind of detail, but I still want to look good when I’m with her.

Uncle Herbert tosses a long-sleeved shirt onto the bed.

“I think this’ll fit you,” he says.

I hold it up. It’s a soft, thick white cotton with a Kikimi pattern embroidered above the pockets in rusts and pale greens and browns. The colors of the desert.

“I can’t take your shirt,” I say.

“It’s just a loan. But if you’re going to be seeing much of this girl you might want to take a few dollars that you’ve got saved up for that truck of yours and buy a couple of nice shirts.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“How’re you getting there?”

“The No. 12 goes right by the hotel,” I tell him.

I didn’t want to ask him for a lift.

He nods, then hands me the keys to his truck.

“I’ve found,” he says, “that a girl likes a guy to have his own transportation.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

It’s not just the fact that he’s loaning me the truck. It’s that he trusts me enough to not screw things up.

He grips my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“You’ve been doing so well since you got here,” he says, “that Tía Luba thinks I’m bullshitting when she calls to see how you are. You’ve earned a few perks, Joey.”

I’m not much of a touchy-feely guy, but I give Uncle Herbert a hug.

I find Juliana sitting on the edge of a seat in the lobby when I come into the hotel—she has to, just to make room for her wings. They have to be three feet long, gossamer sparkling wings that lift above her head. Her hair is piled high, showing off her slender neck and the little pointed tips on the ends of her ears, and instead of sunglasses she’s wearing one of her dad’s masks—a slender green wave of leather with the tiniest of eyeholes.