Gatewright (2 page)

Refreshed
after a solid night’s sleep, I wondered if the whole thing might be a cruel prank:
the letter had no return address and no contact number.  Lucky for me, I
knew who to call.   Though, “DIDA” didn’t sound nearly as sexy as “
Ghostbusters”.

At
9am sharp, I dialed the Department of Interdimensional Affairs (DIDA). 
I’d interned with them for three months, full time, the summer before I
graduated with my Master’s.  Half of my work had been stereotypical:
filing papers, making coffee, and setting up meetings.  The other half had
been fascinating: summarizing lengthy requests from Exiles, researching
individuals applying for Outer Circle permits, and creating tourism information
packets for fey visitors.

I’d
gotten some attention when I’d streamlined the request process for Exiles by
redesigning the form to conform to Anowir logic.  Jack had pointed out to
me how hard the form had been for even him to fill out, and we’d worked
together to improve it. I’d even added little voiceovers in Anowir describing
what exactly the form was looking for.  We’d reduced confused calls by
40%.  I probably would have gotten a job out of it, too, if it wasn’t for
budget cuts.

The
mechanical voice welcomed me.  I pressed ‘3’ for the administrative
offices, avoiding the runaround associated with ‘1’ for Exile-related issues or
‘2’ for Circle passes.

Kelsey,
as usual, answered the phone, and didn’t believe me when I told her about the
letter.  My stomach started to sink.  This was a prank, wasn’t it?
 I tried to imagine which of my friends would have been behind it. 
Maybe Shawn, my ex.  I’d thought we’d broken up on relatively good terms,
but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d misjudged him.

“Can
you ask Briana?” I insisted.  Briana always knew what was going on.

Kelsey
sighed loudly into the phone, ensuring I knew what a terrible inconvenience I
was.  “Fine.  I’ll check if she’s even here.”  She put me on
hold.  Apparently, DIDA’s reduced unwelcome phone calls by placing the
least
pleasant person as the general contact.  Or, being the general contact
transformed an otherwise congenial lady into a bitter, grumpy bitch.  I
would hate to find out… I wanted to work there full-time.  If I didn’t
retire a millionaire first.  Maybe I’d just contract with them.

“Jan?” 
Briana picked up.  “I’m between meetings.  What do you need?”

“Have
you heard anything about a trip to Azry?”  I asked tentatively.

“There
was never any official release about it here, so I assumed it wasn’t
happening.  How did you hear about it?”

When
I’d finished telling her about the letter, I heard muffled curses, then she
spoke politely into the phone.  “Let me get you to someone who knows
what’s going on.”  Her anger was gone as quickly as it had come.  I’m
not sure whether her unusual temper was a gift, or just downright
unsettling.  Or both.

She
put me on hold, and I stayed there.  And stayed there.  I picked at
my fingers, then rifled through my cabinets for breakfast.  I’d given up
hope when my phone suddenly came back to life, and I almost choked on my
cereal.

“Jan,
this is Deputy Director Kim Hyun.” His voice was warm yet professional.

“Good
morning, sir,” I coughed out.  Kim was famous for coming up with inventive
solutions to fey/human points of conflict.  He’d been with Homeland
Security in the early days of the negotiation process, and transferred to DIDA
when the government created the agency a year later.  He had publicly
insisted that the Exiles were not to be interfered with, and I secretly wished
that I would be like him when I grew up.

He
continued, “This is the real deal.  We knew the candidates had received
letters, but we never received the final list of who the fey selected. 
I’m pleased you are going.” 

“So
DIDA’s not behind this?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being rude.

“Not
exactly.”  Kim didn’t sound very happy about being kept in the dark. 
“We provided a list of candidates based on their criteria, and they took it
from there.  In addition, we helped guide them on what activities humans
generally do on tours and what might alarm them.  Beyond that, the fey
have not communicated.”

“Oh. 
Well, thank you for putting me on the list!”

“I’ll
be seeing you soon, then.  I’m also going.”

My
shoulders relaxed with tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.  Kim
could handle any fey situation we ran into with grace.  Plus, it gave me
the opportunity to pick his brain to pieces.  Maybe even get myself a job
while I was at it, if I managed to impress him enough.  “I’m so
glad!  Any packing suggestions?”

He
didn’t have anything to suggest that I hadn’t already packed at
least
one of.  I thanked him profusely for his time before we hung
up.   This was actually happening.  And the fey didn’t really
seem to care one way or the other about DIDA.  Typical.

Confident
I wasn’t being pranked, I invited my best friend and partner in crime to my apartment
with cryptic, teasing text messages.  [Rose, I have super big news. 
I just told my parents.  I want to tell you in person.]

[I’m
@ work.  ur the worst] she kindly replied.

[When
do you get off?]

[that’s
what
she
said!  gimme an hour.]

Rose
burst into my apartment almost two hours later like she owned the place. 
Wispy blonde hair framed a cherub-like face, accented with pink lipstick and
dimples. Her cornflower-blue eyes were wide.  “Are you pregnant?” she
exclaimed, half horrified and half thrilled.

“Nope,
not it!”  I grinned at her from where I sat cross-legged on the couch, in
the middle of my Ramen lunch.  “Two more guesses.”

She
plopped down beside me.  “Did you get a new job?”

“Nope.” 
I shook my head.  “One more.”

She
searched the ceiling for ideas.  “Did you get back together with Shawn or
are you dating Jack?”

I
counted on my fingers.  “One, that’s two questions.  Two, Shawn is
never happening again.  Three, Jack isn’t interested, and neither am
I.”  I pouted at her.  “Come on, you of all people know that.”

She
shrugged, and stole my fork for a bite of my noodles.  “Yeah, but admit
it, you see each other all the time and you’re both single.  It’s not a
stretch.”

I’d
had this argument before.  With my parents.  With Shawn.  With
Rose, at least half a dozen times.  “Yeah, and one day a man will come
along and you’ll give up your lesbian ways,” I shot back a little harsher than
I meant to.

“Point
taken,” she accepted, then winked at me as she chewed on her stolen
Ramen.  “So you gonna tell me or what?”

I
waited for the suspense to build.  Then: “I’m going to Azry.”

She
stared at me, frozen in place.  “Are you shitting me?”

I
couldn’t hide my massive grin, and she let loose with shrieks of delight. 
After she calmed down, Rose demanded that I write long journal entries every
day for the sixteen days I was scheduled to be touring.  She had strong
fey blood in her (“probably on my mom’s side, she loves fairies”), and since
she’d discovered that, she’d been almost as obsessed as I was about Azry.

Most
humans were at least a little bit fey, since Azry had been exiling their
criminal population to Earth for the past millennium, although few humans had
the chance to find out how much, if any, fey blood they had.  When I’d
given Rose a guided tour of the Outer Circle, right after I’d gotten my job
there, we’d both noticed her ears getting pointy and her eyes slowly
slanting.  She’d been delighted that the magic leaking from the gate had a
definite impact on her.  “I can
feel
it!” she’d exclaimed, over and
over again, until I wanted to strangle the life out of her.  I wasn’t
nearly as fortunate.

I
was one of the rare people who was indeed 100% human, and hadn’t felt a thing
despite the years I’d been working in the gate’s magical shadow.  When I
started working in the Outer Circle at 20 years old, during my lunch breaks I
would lurk near the Inner Circle doors and compulsively feel the tips of my
ears for any change.  After a few weeks of disappointment, I bitterly
abandoned the idea that I had fey blood.  I could have tested for it, I
suppose, but it came with a hefty price tag.  And if I couldn’t feel it
that close to the gate, what use was it anyway?

The
gate to Azry leaked invisible magic for a square mile or more into our
world.  Fey, Exiles, and mixed-bloods could detect magic, as well as a few
pieces of sensitive technology designed for picking up unusual energy
signatures.  According to Jack, the magic dissipated fairly quickly, and
the spill size wouldn’t continue to grow.  I’m sure if DIDA knew that, they’d
probably breathe a sigh of relief.  The expensive electronics they used to
detect magic were primitive compared to Jack’s senses.

The
Inner Circle protecting the gate had been built as soon as humans noticed a
portal sitting wide open on their front porch.  It wasn’t enough. 
So, a grand Outer Circle had been built for three reasons: one, to give fey
visitors a safe place to come; two, to keep most humans at arms’ length; and
three, to ensure that the criminals exiled from Azry didn’t have a chance to
sneak back in or soak up too much magic.

Both
Anowir and humans closely guarded the portal itself.  The partnership
worked well.  Humans wanted to ensure that the fey didn’t run unchecked
over the world, although the Anowir didn’t seem to have any desire whatsoever
to do that.  They tended to think that our world was a kind of special
hell.  They guarded the gate on our side, and we had to assume they
guarded it on their side as well.

Rose
had enrolled in a mixed-blood education course last fall, open only to those
who showed physical signs.  The Saturday morning seminars, a collaboration
between both cultures, educated mixed-bloods about their special heritage. I
personally suspected it had much more to do with both humans and fey wondering
what the magical potential of these descendants might be, but considering I
hadn’t actually
seen
any magic (either from mixed-blood or Exile), I
assumed that magic didn’t work here.

Rose
shared everything she learned at the Academy, which gave me a definite
advantage in graduate school.  That, and Jack’s invaluable (although
sporadic) input.  He was generally more tight-lipped about his far more
personal connection to Azry.  Exiles weren’t beloved among humans in
general, and tried to stay under the radar as much as they could.  Exiles
looked
human rather than fey, but I wasn’t sure at what point or why they
transformed.  Undoubtedly, it was an advantage.

Jack
didn’t share that he was an Exile until months after we met.  By that
time, I’d already pieced it together from his unusual features, uncanny
knowledge of the fey, and odd accent.  When he had cautiously revealed his
secret, I’d seen the raw pain in his eyes.  I never asked what
happened.  Exiles were supposed to be condemned criminals, and I couldn’t
but guess what he must have done.  Jack was more inclined toward mischief
than murder.  Whatever it was, I was sure, had been a conscious decision
on his part. 
That
was the Jack I knew.

I
stopped by my folks’ place late that afternoon to break the news to my mother
and stepfather.  The small, two-story building was nestled at the edge of
town, uncomfortably close to a set of railroad tracks.  I’d lived there
for ten years, and had every corner of the house memorized.  Nicholas, my
stepfather, had gotten a head start on Halloween, and had spread spiderwebs
over the hedges in front of the covered porch.  Little skeletons blew in
the wind like chimes.  No one I knew could match Nick’s enthusiasm for
holiday home décor.

Nicholas
answered the door and welcomed me in, hollering to the kitchen that I was
home.  My timing during the dinner hour was intentional – I wasn’t above
trying to wheedle free meals (and maybe even leftovers!) out of my mom. 
Nick offered me a beer and we set the table together.  Dinner was a casual
affair most days of the week, but this was Shabbat.

Nick
had been my father since I was 7, but that hadn’t stopped him from spoiling me
rotten.  I’d really,
really
hated him when he first joined the
family.  My biological father, Ishmael, had separated from my mother when
I was 5, and I had kept hoping they would make up and he would come back. 
Nicholas meant an end to that hope, and boy did that hope go screaming to the
grave.

By
the time I was 10, I’d warmed up to him, but he still enjoyed spoiling
me.  He was six years older than my mom, now in his late 50s, with
grey-speckled dark hair and a close-cut beard that was mostly grey.  When
I’d first met him, he’d been lean and fit, but years at a desk and my mom’s
delicious cooking had worked their evil magic.

Thomas,
my brother, loudly thumped his way out of his upstairs room and took the stairs
three at a time as soon as dinner was announced.  Tossing long, curly hair
out of his eyes, he welcomed me with a casual, “Sup, Jan?”, but the tiny smile
he let slip reminded me so much of when he was little.  Since he was eight
years younger than me, I’d spent a disproportionate amount of time babysitting
him.  I would come back from junior high, mobbed by a baby brother who
wanted nothing more than to hang out with me and play video games.  These
days, depending on his mood, either he was ‘too cool’ to be associated with me
or he saw me as the hip older sister who could not only buy him ‘M’ rated games
at a discount, but also give him the cheat codes for the boss.