Authors: Jennifer Safrey
He lowered his gaze to the mat and didn’t respond. At Smiley’s, we all understood the language of hurt pride.
“I could tell you was having a bad day,” he finally said. “Weren’t all there, right from the start. It’s okay. No one’s watching.”
I looked around me to confirm. Just a couple of guys here on a Thursday afternoon, working the heavy bags. Shirley having a one-on-one with Smiley.
And Svein sitting on a folding chair, looking right back at me.
“Crap,” I muttered, and Not-Rocky thought I was still in conversation.
“Next time,” he said, “ain’t letting you off so easy.”
“Next time, I’ll be the one apologizing,” I told him. “But I’m not going to mean it.”
He nodded gamely, tapped me on the shoulder, lifted the ropes, and hopped out of the ring.
I glared at Svein, who didn’t move a muscle to acknowledge it. I pushed the ropes down and hopped over them, slid off the mat to the floor, and walked slowly over to him. I would have liked to say the slow walk was deliberate, but it was really all my sore gut would allow.
I sat beside him and slumped, my butt sliding down and my legs straightening out. He said nothing. We shared the silence for a few minutes before I stretched out my right hand to him. “Make yourself useful,” I said.
He began to unlace my glove. We’d met daily for more training sessions every day this week, but we’d kept the lessons under an hour each, and limited our dialogue to the training manual, Root operations, and emotional control of my new abilities. I didn’t trust myself with the last one yet, and frankly I didn’t think Svein trusted me either, but if we waited until I became still water and Zen, we would be old and gray and I’d be in no shape to war against anyone, except maybe a nursing home attendant. But I was better with control than a week ago, if only in theory. Svein assured me—and himself—that control would come with practice.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him now. “Thought I had a day off.”
“Curiosity,” he said. “I’m impressed. Although not as impressed as your bravado had led me to believe I’d be.”
He’d loosened the laces enough for me to tug my wrapped hand out, and I did, going to work on my left glove myself. “I’m freaking tired,” I told him quietly. “I’m not getting any sleep at night.”
“Why not?” He lowered his voice as well. “You haven’t been out on assignments. I took you out of the rotation until we’re done with basic training. Flying’s your last lesson. Easy.”
Between him
and
Not-Rocky saying they were letting me off easy, I snapped. “First of all,” I said, keeping my voice down but not bothering to mask the anger in my face, “I told you during training that flying is
out
. So if that’s the only lesson left, then I’m done. And the reason I’m not getting any sleep is because I’m lying to Avery. Guilt isn’t much of a sleep medicine.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I have a lot at stake here. I need more of a reason for this.”
I watched Shirley and Smiley talking in the corner of the room. Smiley demonstrated a punch in slow-motion, pushing his shoulder and hip into it, then stopped to explain something as Shirley nodded. I tugged off my left glove, and let my sweaty hands dangle between my knees.
“I’m sorry,” Svein said. “I didn’t realize that the Olde Way quest, hundreds of years in the making, a legacy that will restore our world of innocence and ensure everlasting peace for our species and every species with whom we share it, was not enough of a reason for you to be involved in this.”
“That
is
why I’m here,” I said, still quietly but now through gritted teeth. “However, I could do that at any time of my life. I could have waited a couple of years to pick up my part on the path. I didn’t need to choose the most inconvenient time for me, professionally and personally. But you and I both know the reason I’m here
now
—the reason the fae searched me out
now
—is because there’s a threat, and they—
you
—need me to fight it.”
I tossed my gloves onto the floor, and one bounced off my foot. “If I’m going to jeopardize everything that’s important to the human side of me,” I said, turning my head to look at him, “then I deserve the respect of not having that time wasted. You need to tell me about the threat, and you need to do it pretty damn soon, while I still believe this is worth it.”
“Bricks,” I heard above me. Not-Rocky had approached us, and cast a wary eye on Svein while he spoke to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“This guy’s not bothering you, is he?”
“This guy,” I said, jerking a thumb toward my fellow fae, “bothers me like you wouldn’t believe. But it’s under control. Thanks.”
So funny. I was always treated like an equal at Smiley’s, even from my first day. Of course, I was treated like an equal that first day because Smiley threatened to toss anyone out who gave me a hard time, but they treated me like an equal now because I was one of them. Still, deep, deep down, they felt obliged to protect me. Deep down, Brickhouse was still Gemma, the woman in the room. I tried not to smile as Not-Rocky narrowed his eyes at Svein.
“I’d be crazy to mess with her,” Svein said, standing and putting out his hand. “Svein Nilsen. I’m a friend of Gemma’s.”
“Don’t be throwing that term around too loosely,” I muttered as Not-Rocky put out a glove. I didn’t assist in introductions, and maybe it was rude, but I couldn’t help wanting to keep my normal life and my weird life separate.
The door banged open and Trey stomped inside. He didn’t close the door. He just never stopped moving forward, as if he were on the grill of a Mack truck in the fast lane. He didn’t stop until he was in front of Smiley. Then he started screaming.
I didn’t know what he was screaming about, exactly. It was the kind of screaming that didn’t come out in sentences, just venomous words flung out one after another. He was shaking, and his shoulders suddenly tensed. I knew that body language. I knew what was coming.
I launched myself out of my chair and ran. I pushed in front of Smiley just as Trey pulled his arm back, and I took it hard on my cheekbone.
My vision went glassy for a minute. It was a wild, unskilled punch, but he’d hit me with his bare knuckles. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I shook off the daze and saw that Shirley had stepped behind Trey and pinned his elbows behind his back. Shirley
is
a Mack truck, so it was interesting to see the surprise on his face when he realized he actually had to use two hands to restrain this child-turned-thrashing hellion.
Trey’s fiery gaze locked onto mine and he stopped moving, just for a second. In his eyes I saw rage, but as he looked at me, it was as if recognition had dawned and behind that rage emerged a black fear. “You,” he said.
I blinked.
Then he kicked.
I managed to evade with a small slide to the right. My right fist curled, but I was not going to hit a skinny teenager, even a crazed, combative one. But Not-Rocky, who’d also run over, didn’t have that restraint. He reached forward and thrust a glove into Trey’s gut. It wasn’t the kind of hit that would drop anyone else here, but Trey blew a hard breath out of his mouth and stopped struggling.
“Stop,” Smiley said. “Everyone knock it the hell off. You,” he said, pointing at Not-Rocky. “We don’t hit kids here.”
“Sorry, sir.” Not-Rocky did look sorry. It wasn’t a hard hit, and I didn’t really blame him for stopping the fight in the only way most of us here knew how.
“You,” Smiley said to me. “Go in my office for ice. Take care of your face.”
“Okay,” I said, and I moved aside, but I didn’t go anywhere.
“You’re done,” Smiley said to Trey, who was doubled over, not looking at him. “Everyone in here has got a second chance at some point, but they don’t get a third, and neither do you. You leave this gym and do not come back. Ever. If you do, I’m tossing you in the ring and letting one of these guys have at you. Just see if I’m joking.”
No answer.
“Do you understand me?”
Trey raised his head, and despite his obvious pain, and despite being restrained by a heavyweight champion, and despite being outnumbered, he narrowed his eyes and said, “Go fuck yourself.”
Shirley gave him a threatening shake but Smiley said mildly, “Let him go. He’s leaving.”
Shirley shoved Trey in the direction of the door. He shuffled a few steps, but then he stopped, turned and glared at me. “It’s you. I know.”
“I don’t see you leaving,” Smiley said. “And the ring’s free.”
What happened to this boy? Did he think I was someone else, someone who’d hurt him? I didn’t remember ever saying anything more than hello to him. I hadn’t done anything to offend him.
Troubled child. Maybe mentally ill. He seemed to be waiting for a response but I just shook my head at him. He backed away, then ran out the door.
“What the freaking hell?” Not-Rocky said. Shirley rubbed my shoulder, then shrugged and went over to the heavy bag as if this had all been nothing more than a blip in his schedule. Smiley did the same, slipping into his office.
I turned and saw Svein. I’d forgotten he was there, because he’d only watched the events unfold. A fae, unable to jump in and fight. I twisted my mouth. “Weird.”
“That it was,” he replied, and didn’t seem to want or need to say anything more about it.
I stuffed my own gloves into my gym bag, and zipped a purple fleece sweatshirt over my tank top. It was warm enough to get away with my black shorts, but I changed into street sneakers while Svein and Not-Rocky chatted. “See you tomorrow,” I told my sparring partner.
Svein bent over and lifted my bag onto his shoulder. I let him, and we emerged into the city sun.
He turned left on 9
th
Street rather than right, away from the Gallery Place-Chinatown Metro station I usually used to go home, and toward Mt. Vernon Square. I decided to let him have his way, for the time being. We walked along in silence for a while.
“His name is Dr. Riley Clayton,” Svein finally said. “D.M.D.”
D.M.D.? “A
dentist
.” I stopped short. “The threat is a dentist.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not.”
One dry, silent laugh escaped from my open mouth, and my chest heaved to expel it. I shook my head and looked at the sky. “That’s what this is? That’s why I’ve been called to action?”
“A threat is a threat,” Svein said.
“No,” I said. “It’s not. This is bullshit.” I pressed my palms to the sides of my head. “I went to a fae meeting the night I discovered my—who—what I am. We all joined hands and I didn’t connect to the Olde Way and groove with peace and nature like everyone else. Instead,
I
had some kind of acid trip that blew me back in time, into the bodies of warriors past. A warrior who burned down the house of a dark witch. A warrior in a
prison
camp, who
died
. And the warrior who chose, forever, morning over midnight.”
I laughed again, hard and mirthless. “And
this
is what I’m risking everything I care about for? A dentist with a bad attitude?”
“Gemma…”
I stepped closer to him and set my jaw. “This isn’t a destiny. This is a joke, and an insult, not only to me but to those who came before me. If this were a movie, this would be the point where I leave the theater.” I threw up my hands and turned away from him.
I was supposed to walk away now. Why wasn’t I?
Behind me, Svein said, “This is where we live. In the twenty-first century in a safe, democratic civilization. We don’t kill people to take their land, and we don’t have to take down woolly mammoths to eat. There’s no war on our soil, at least for now. You are the warrior of
this
time and place, and to help us, you won’t have to run through a forest with a spear. You might not
need
to do anything violent at all, and I’m sorry if that disappoints you. We don’t know what we’re up against. But it’s something, and it’s getting worse every day, and we can’t get to it without you.”
I opened my mouth and before I could speak, he said, “It’s the dark fae. It’s always the dark fae, always with a different weapon. This guy, he’s the weapon this time.”
It embarrassed me to have been disappointed that my fight didn’t seem to be a major one.
“Besides,” Svein added, “I haven’t told you everything yet.”
I turned back to him. “Fine, let’s go. Wherever we’re going.”
We walked in silence. I was grateful to be left alone to smooth out my thoughts, but after about a block, I said, “Wouldn’t all dentists be our natural enemies?”
“No,” Svein said, amused. “In fact, they’re unwittingly useful to us if they can get kids to brush and floss their teeth.”
“So why’s this Clayton guy a threat? And how could he even
be
a threat unless he knows the fae exist and what we’re up to? I thought humans weren’t on to us as anything other than bedtime stories.”
“That’s the thing,” Svein said. “Clayton is fae.”
I stopped short. “A fae dentist?” I thought of both instances where I’d touched a tooth—with Frederica and at Watergate—and I’d lapsed into an Olde Way mini-coma. “How can he be around kids’ teeth all day and not be passed out on the floor every second?”
“A fae dentist isn’t unheard of,” Svein said, steering me gently by my shoulder to the curb after a woman, encumbered with supermarket bags, huffed angrily around us. “But most of them treat adults. There are a few fae specializing in pediatric dentistry who do their part by donating teeth from routine extractions. They also help kids keep their teeth healthy for us. They bind some of their abilities in the Butterfly Room so they can work
without
passing out on the floor all day.”
“So if Dr. Clayton is one of those fae …“
“He’s not. He has nothing to do with our collection process.”
“But he’s fae. Can’t you
make
him give you teeth if he has them?”
“We operate on free will,” Svein said. “Even you—as much of a pain in the ass as you are—
chose
this.”
“What fae wouldn’t?” Again, I tried to remember the light and colors and purity of the visions I had when I held the teeth, and instead felt it humming inside me, moving with my blood, pumping in and out of my heart. I slowed to a stop and breathed with it.