Gatewright (15 page)

“Are
you and Jack a couple?”  Riven asked.  He’d set aside to laptop to
focus on me.

Surprised,
my cheeks reddened.  Why did everyone think that?!  “No.  He’s
my friend.”

“He’s
very familiar with you,” Riven growled quietly.  “His actions are
inappropriate for a fey who is not courting you.”

“What,
a hug?”  I sat down across from him.  I’d rather deal with this now,
than later.  “He has shown signs of affection that are culturally normal
for our relationship as friends. We’ve never been interested in each other as
anything else.”  I prayed this would be the end of the story.

Riven
leaned back, thinking.  “I’ll accept that.  But if he ever makes you
uncomfortable, I’ll fry him.”  A flash of anger in his eyes gave me
pause.  That was new.

Currently,
I was a little dubious as to whether Riven actually could, but I appreciated
the sentiment.  “I will tell you if that happens,” I promised.

He
grunted, not entirely satisfied, and dug back into his meal.  “Besides
that, he’s married.”

“
WHAT?
”
I almost shouted.  “That goddamned fey never tells me
anything!
 
How the fuck
do
you
know, anyway?”

“His
hair is not tied back?” Riven pointed it out, as if it was obvious.

Had
I ever seen him with his hair up?  Not that I could remember.  “Well,
I didn’t know about the hair thing till you told me,” I growled.  “I’m
just mad because he pulls this kind of shit all the time.”  Riven scowled
in disapproval, and I felt the need to justify my outburst.  “I mean, he
only told me that
nagali
existed before I left, and left out the part
where he
was
one.  I figured out that when I got to Azry.”

“He
told you about
nagali?
”  Riven gripped the table in alarm. 
“Do you think he’s told anyone else?”

“Not
a chance.”  I shook my head.  “Getting information out of him is like
trying to squeeze water out of a rock.  He doesn’t talk about his life
before Exile, ever.  Like it doesn’t exist.”

Riven
seemed slightly comforted at that. “Well, I can tell you he hasn’t forsaken his
marriage vows.”

God,
that was romantic.
  It made a lot more sense why I’d
never seen him trying to date anyone.  I’d had so many guesses over the
years about why he’d remained staunchly uninterested in women. 
Was he
gay? 
I’d thought. 
Is he not attracted to humans? Do fey not
have a sex drive?
  I’d wondered if he’d had a special someone back in
Azry, but I’d never thought of Jack as a married man.  Was he single out
of habit now?  No way he’d been celibate for eleven years.  Or had
he?  Had his wife remarried?  Did she miss him?  How long were
they married? 
Was he a father?

A
million other questions ran through my head.  Once again, I couldn’t
conceive what he’d lost when he’d been exiled.  Just imagining the pain
broke my heart.  Did I even know him?

Exhaustion
crept up on me despite the coffee.  After another minute, I wished Riven
goodnight, and buried my face in my pillows.  Perhaps finally sleeping in
my own bed would ward off the dreams.

It
didn’t.  Fire, death, and blood woke me, sweating, panicked, and shaking,
again and again.  At least I didn’t scream… I didn’t want to alarm
Riven.  The fourth time I woke up, I knew sleeping pills were in
order.  The seventh time, I knew therapy was.

Jack
returned early, as promised, with a blue
Virginia is for Lovers
t-shirt
I’d never seen him wear and a pair of paint-stained baggy jeans.  Riven
disappeared into the bathroom after I provided him a towel and showed him how
to turn the shower on and off, without setting the water so hot he’d scald
himself.  My shower was pretty damn sensitive.

As
was Riven.  Several times already this morning he’d bristled at even the
most jovial insult from Jack, hands clenching in the habit I now recognized as
a grasp for the magic he couldn’t reach.  Particularly after his shower,
his expression was stone, although now and then I could catch a muscle
twitching in his jaw.  Not that I spent much time studying his
jawline.  I didn’t know what was bothering him, and when I peered
questioningly at Jack, he gave me an infinitesimal frown and shake of his head.

I
was going over our checklist with Jack when my mother showed up, rapping
sharply at the door.  I welcomed her inside as she made disparaging remarks
about the way my brother “took care of” my apartment.  Jack excused
himself to the kitchen, where Riven was enraptured by the power of the Internet
and my laptop.  I’d taught Riven ALT-CTR-DEL this morning; he was catching
on at a frightening pace.  At least that seemed to be going well.

“Now
will you tell me what happened?”  My mother probed, and I felt an edge to
her question.  Then she looked down.  “Jesus, your feet!”

I
waved her to a seat on the couch and joined her.  “Contrary to the song,
these boots were not made for walkin’.”  I tried to comfort her with a
winning smile.  “I can’t exactly tell you what went on in Azry, Mom, I’m
sorry.  I’m still trying to figure it all out myself.  Honestly, from
everything I’ve heard, it might be safer for you and the family not to be
involved.”

She
sighed in exasperation.  “Dammit, Jan, you’re being
just like your
father!
”

“Why?”
I wasn’t going to let it go, even if it was a sore subject.  I had to know
more.

“He
was always
off
places, and wouldn’t tell me where he’d gone.  I
thought at first it was drugs or alcohol, but he always seemed ok, never high
or drunk.  I wondered if he was
selling
drugs, but he was always
broke
.  Every time he managed to get a job, he’d end up
fired, or quit, a few months later.”  Her eyes welled with angry
tears.  “I was trying to raise my daughter, you were just a little one,
and daycare was too expensive.  And he had the balls to
quit!
” 
She paused to regain her self-composure.  My mother was not normally this
emotionally raw… my adventure must be stressing her more than she let on. 
“I’ll never know why he kept disappearing, sometimes for days at a time. 
Was he cheating? 
He never told me.
”

Distant
memories of shouting, my mother throwing books, and me, a small child, wailing
at them to stop.  I barely remembered what my dad looked like.

“So,
I got fed up with his bullshit, and told him to either be there for me and his
own
daughter
, or to get the hell out of our lives.  So don’t you start
pulling that
-“ she
broke off as she saw Riven and Jack
emerge from the kitchen.

With
his new clothes, Riven’s physical changes were even more apparent.  At
this point, he almost could pass as a human.  “Thank you for your
assistance, Mrs. Leeman,” he bowed his head.

“Actually,
it’s Mrs. Jenkins,” she corrected him, not entirely happy with his
presence.  I had no idea what she imagined his role in all this was, but
it wasn’t so sunny that she hadn’t sent Jack in.

A
flash of confusion passed across Riven’s face.  Jack interjected. 
“Sometimes when a woman remarries she takes her new husband’s name but the
child does not.”

“Humanity
is utterly confusing,” he sighed, resigned, and excused himself to rummage in
the kitchen cupboards for more food.  At this rate, I wouldn’t have to
worry about anything going bad.

Jack
and I accepted the large wad of cash my mother produced with many thanks. 
I promised repeatedly to pay her back, then gently shooed her out the
door.  As soon as the door shut behind her, Jack pulled me aside.

“Riven’s
going through a rough time,” he informed me gently, keeping an eye on the
doorway to the kitchen.  “Be careful.”

I
blinked, confused.  “The plan is to take him home, right?  What’s
bothering him so much?  He’s going to get his magic back one way or the
other.”

“It’s
not that simple.  Without magic, his body adapts to this world.  With
that, there are a lot of physical changes.  To put it bluntly, he’s never
had to deal with that much testosterone in his blood stream before.”

“So
you’re telling me, Riven is going through puberty.”  If Riven hadn’t
seemed so irritable, I would have laughed.   I’d been very
entertained when Thomas went through puberty.  Granted, I hadn’t been the
one living with him.  I could guarantee my mother had a different
perspective on the experience.

Jack
grinned.  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that analogy. He’s demonstrated
incredibly good self-control so far, more than I did when I was first exiled,
that’s for sure.” He paused to shake off a memory.  “You’ve been seeing
his changes appear gradually, but I bet you anything looking in the mirror this
morning was an unpleasant surprise for him.  Fey don’t like surprises, fey
don’t like changes, and Earth is full of those.  This is why fey visit
only here for a day or two at most.  Anything more than that, slow torture,”
Jack started to rant. “Because the fey justice system is fucking lazy.  No
second chances.”

“This
container of peanut butter has been emptied,” I heard Riven holler from the
kitchen.

I
caught Jack by his arm as he started to move toward the kitchen to address the
tragic loss of our condiment.  “The changes… do they reverse themselves
when you go back?”

“It’s
easier to break something than to repair it,” he murmured quietly, a shadow of
pain in his eyes.

Did
Riven think that he was being slowly broken?  I shuddered, and made a
mental note to be gentle with him.

Later
that morning, we took off for Explore Park, taking 64 West through Waynesboro,
merging with 81 South near Staunton.  Riven sat in the backseat, eyes
glued to the window.  He murmured appreciatively as we passed small towns
and farms, markedly calmer than his first car ride.  Jack drove, since I
didn’t have an ID and didn’t want to
get
ID’d, either.  He was a
bit rusty, and some of his merges made me nervous.  I loved my trusty
Sadie, an old Mercedes-Benz that Nicholas had bought off of one his business
partners and passed to me as a high school graduation present/not-so-concealed
leverage to get me to visit on weekends.

Nicholas
was an entrepreneur who sold his dot com when he got married to Mom in 1999,
just before the dot com bubble burst.  The money from that sale provided
much of our family stability, and allowed my mother to go back to school and
get her Associates degree in graphic design.  He’d gone on to own a small
web consulting business, which Mom helped him with and kept both of them happy,
employed, and busy.

I’d
been gloating far more than desirable when I’d been 18 with a (used)
Mercedes.  Rose had dubbed her “Sadie” after the fourth time I’d crowed
about going to the store ‘in my Mercedes’.  “She’s not a status symbol, so
don’t treat her like one,” Rose had declared with perhaps a tinge of
jealousy.  “She’s more than just her looks, you know.”

I’d
failed to convince her that Sadie wasn’t a good opportunity to make an analogy
about feminism.  ‘Sadie’ she remained.  Now, with having clocked over
160,000 miles, she was more than a little senile.  I crossed my fingers
that she wouldn’t decide to quit on me. 

Visitors
crammed the asphalt parking lot of Explore Park.  Blue collar and white
collar workers alike fled the monotony of daily life to savor a Saturday
afternoon in the open air.  The crisp breeze smelled of fall and
harvests.  I gladly stretched my legs, free of the car.  I’d moved my
seat up to accommodate Riven’s longer legs during the ride, and now I paid the
price.  The voices of families serenaded my ears, from the pitched shrieks
of children let loose to the vibrant laughter of college students.  A
visitor’s center, a long L-shaped farmhouse with a sharply slanted grey roof,
offered warmth and a bit of history to the curious resident or tourist.  A
park staff member in a polo shirt was peeling Halloween decals from the
center’s windows and replacing them with cornucopias and turkeys.

I
turned to smile at Riven, proud of this little patch of happiness in the midst
of our world, but my joy faded just as quickly.  His face was clouded and
intense, far from the subtly animated Riven that had teased and challenged me
in Anowir.  He absently touched the hair above his ear.  Jack had
brutally insisted that Riven couldn’t wear his braids in public, and only after
Jack had invoked Riven’s vow to me had he angrily undone them.  Braids
would give him away, and thereby, give me away.  Jack was right… but it
still pained me to watch Riven’s identity slowly ripped from him. 
But
at least the new hairstyle is only temporary
.

Jack
pointed us in the direction of the trailhead, and scavenged a walking stick as soon
as we arrived at the treeline.  We took the ‘Old Salem Turnpike’ to
‘Palmer’s Pond Trail’ to ‘Deer Run Trail’ to ‘Turkey Scratch Loop’, a mile’s
walk we hiked in relative silence.  I’d wrapped my feet in enough blister
packs and gauze that I couldn’t even feel my old pair of sneakers through
it.  I’d been worried I’d end up aggravating my feet, but only my muscles
and joints ached.

At
least this time, I’d brought a thicker winter coat, and I snugged the hood
around my ears against the November cold.  Riven carried our food and
water supply easily in Jack’s old backpack.  He’d tried to decline a puffy
winter coat I’d dug out of my closet, but I unkindly reminded him he didn’t
have any fire to keep himself warm.  Riven had scowled at me and grabbed
the coat, no more grateful than I was kind.

“What
is that?” Riven interrupted me from my thoughts.

“Huh?” 
I followed his gaze to a couple with a young child and beagle.

“THAT!” 
He pointed.

“The
beagle?”

“But
what
is
it?”

“A
dog?”

“I
thought dogs were tamed wolves.  That is not remotely related to a wolf.”

I
exchanged a look with Jack.  His mouth twitched and we simultaneously lost
our composure.  “Wait till you see a Chihuahua!” I gasped between waves of
giggles.  Jack’s belly laugh rang out, as refreshing as the forest air
itself.

At
the farthest point from the visitor’s center trail network, at the peak of
Turkey Scratch Trail, Jack led us deeper into the forest on what seemed to be a
deer path.  The leaves crunched under us, and birdsong echoed through the trees,
calming my nerves.  When we came to a slight clearing, Jack nodded. 
“This’ll do,” he said, and set down his small pack.  “Jan, I want you to
take some time and carefully remember exactly what it felt like to open a
gate.  I want you to just capture that feeling for the present.”

“I
literally jumped out of the way,” I sighed.  “I jumped, and fell
through.  I didn’t even feel myself make it.”  Other than the
nails-on-a-blackboard feeling I couldn’t explain.

“Ok,
so start jumping.  Jump for an hour, if that’s how you do it.”  He
growled at me.  His patience was wearing thin, probably used up dealing
with Riven.  “Go!”

I
scowled at him, but what the hell, that’s what I said. Maybe jumping would do
the trick.

It
didn’t.  I jumped up and down, I jumped over a log, I jumped backwards and
forwards and every direction I could think of.  My body complained each
time.  I was profoundly glad we had privacy.  I must have looked
ridiculous.  Meanwhile, Jack apparently had convinced Riven to work out
with him.  Seeing the pair of them trying to do pushups and jumping-jacks
was entertaining, and I got the sense that Jack was trying to tire Riven out
and Riven was trying to best the older Exile.  Good of them to keep busy.

As
noon approached, I was gasping, dripping in sweat, angry, and frustrated. 
My coat was long-abandoned on a nearby log.  “This isn’t doing
shit.”  Well, it was a great cardio exercise.  My doctor would be so
proud of me.

“Then
let’s try it my way.  Meditate,” Jack suggested benignly.

“I’ve
never meditated in my life,” I wheezed, but gladly plopped down onto the log
and closed my eyes.

Jack
nudged me.  “I don’t think sleeping is meditating.”

“Oops.” 
I blinked.  How long had I been asleep?

Jack
sat next to me and waved Riven over.  Riven had broken a sweat, whatever
they’d been doing while I was ‘meditating’, and he didn’t seem that pleased
about it.  He collapsed onto the log next to me.  Jack chewed on a
piece of grass.  “Tell me exactly how it felt when you jumped over.”

I
shrugged helplessly.  “I had your knife, Jack.  I’d just finished….”
I took a breath and forged onwards. “Killing.  I killed a fey,
Jack.”  My voice shook as a sudden wave of emotion crashed into me. 
The memory was as clear, as fresh, and as painful as if it had happened just
moments ago.

Jack’s
shoulders slumped.  “I had hoped you wouldn’t need to use it.  I’m
sorry, Jan.  But you did the right thing.”

I
kept talking.  I wanted to talk about
anything
but that.  “One
of the other attackers zeroed in on me, and I saw his hands glowing, like yours
do, Riven.”

“Like
mine
did,
” he muttered.  Oops, again.

“I
saw them lighting up and I knew that I was about to be toast, so I jumped out
of the way as far and as fast as I could.”

“Were
you aiming at anything?” Jack inquired.

“No,
I was pushing, or reaching, or both.  I thought I was going to die.” 
I sighed, defeated.  I’d tried jumping with every mindset I could
summon.  Each time more ridiculous than the last.

“So
did I.”  Riven added, stretched out on his back.  “You should have
seen all of our faces, Jan.  It’s like when you throw a snowball to a wolf
and it lands in the snow.  They knew you were there, somewhere, they saw
you jump, but they couldn’t see you.  It broke their focus.  
That gave me the chance I needed to end the
nagali.
  The
atsili
blew himself up when he saw I was going to try and interrogate him.  That
was inconvenient.  If I hadn’t been
atsili
myself and able to
dampen the flames, I would have been severely injured.”  Riven squinted
over at me. “Speaking of which, I don’t think I ever expressed my appreciation
for you slaying my enemy.  Instead of running, you grasped an inferior
weapon and attempted a suicidal attempt to avenge your companions.”

 “Inferior
weapon?”  Jack muttered incredulously, striding off.

Riven’s
indigo eyes met my own as he smiled at me, and I felt my stomach flop. 
Oh, that was
not cool. 
I felt my cheeks warming, and his smile
started to spread.  Then his face froze, and his eye practically
twitched.  Something had just happened in Riven’s brain, and it had a
chilling effect.

Jack
moved, and before I could react, swung his walking stick down with force,
stopping precisely at Riven’s temple.  Riven’s hands clenched desperately
as he snarled at Jack.

“Death
comes in many forms,” Jack said.  “Apparently, the fey didn’t teach you
that.  Human ancestors started killing each other with rocks and clubs a
long time ago.  While we’ve always leaned on magic, they’ve
perfected
the art of killing.  You’re confined to thinking of combat always in
relationship to magic.  But magic has its limits, it’s predictable, and
fey power structures are entirely built on who has the most magical
muscle.”  He pushed against Riven’s chest roughly with the end of the
stick.  “Remember: even the Queens rely on magic alone to keep their clans
in check.”  He brought the staff upright again, and Riven jerked to his
feet, fuming.  “You don’t need magic to hide a weapon.  We bleed just
the same as humans, and humans are really fucking good at killing.”  He
paused.  “Hit me.”

Riven
didn’t need to be asked twice.  He rose to his feet in a fluid movement,
but almost overbalanced.  “What is the stance used without magic?” Riven
asked, and I applauded him silently.

Jack
stepped back, eyes dancing.  “Hit me,” he repeated.

Riven’s
swing was wild and Jack easily moved around it, pulling his arm behind him into
a lock.  “You’re dead.  Again,” he said jovially, almost sing-song.

As
soon as Jack let go,
Riven
shook out his arm
angrily.  “I am
atsili,
not a brawler,” he growled.

“Then
be atsili,
Kusay.  See how that works here.”  Jack aimed a
punch, and Riven easily dodged it, moving quickly to the side.  Jack
followed up with another, faster one, stepping closer, but Riven maneuvered
around it again.  The fey’s movement was practiced but entirely defensive.

“You
move well,” Jack commented, not even short of breath while he continued to
smoothly deliver attacks that Riven evaded.

“
Atsili
must move or die.  Not all attacks can be countered with fire,” Riven
explained, switching to his native language.  His focus was very obviously
on not getting hit.

“The
same principles of movement apply to offense,” Jack offered.  “Placement
of the body in relationship to another.  Start blocking my attacks.”

“With
what?” Riven exclaimed.  “I don’t have magic!”

Jack
paused, and sighed heavily.  “With your
body.
”  He
demonstrated an arm block that reminded me strongly of ‘wax on, wax off’. 
“Maintain your distance.  Use your arms.”

After
a few clumsy attempts,
Riven
got the hang of the
simple movement, and fell into a rhythm with Jack leading.  I watched for
a little while, but as soon as I caught myself admiring Riven, I removed myself
entirely from the small grove, splashed some water on my face, and experimented
with jumping
toward
and jumping
away. 
A few times I thought
I felt my fingers tingle.  It was fleeting, and infuriating.  Had I
imagined it?

As
the sun set, we gathered our things, exhausted, sweaty, and hungry.  We
took hurried showers in our hotel room, and piled back into the car.  We
wisely chose the Chinese buffet for dinner.  Riven decimated the teriyaki
chicken.  I was glad that the buffet was a flat rate and not by the
pound.  Jack and I had the opportunity to introduce him to ice cream
cones, which fascinated him to no end.

We
arrived at the hotel well into the night.  Our lodgings had seen better
days, but at least were a step above a rent-by-the-hour motel.  Two
stories of rooms opened on a concrete and ironwork balcony that wrapped its way
around the U of the building.  Riven paused to take it all in before he
followed us to the office.

Jack
checked in under his name, while the front desk attendant eyeballed his odd
companions.  Riven still looked fey enough that he probably flagged in her
mind as an Exile, and she squinted at me, trying to place where she might know
me from.  Whatever her conclusion, she didn’t say anything to us, and kept
her business strictly professional.