Mercy (12 page)

“What am I supposed to know?”

Shimma sat on the ledge her back to the window, her fingers gripping it hard. Pux got to his feet slowly and looked at her for approval. “Currency.”

Pux’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Money?”

Pux closed his eyes for a long moment. “I could trade my goat.”

“You don’t have a goat. People don’t trade things. Try again, and speak English. It’s really weird to hear you talk like that.”

Pux gulped, his Adam’s apple bouncing. “Beltiono?”

Shimma laughed, unfamiliar warmth spreading through her. He was more attractive as a human, add Greek and it was tough not to think about sex. “That’s Greek. I suppose it’s a gateway to English, but try again.”

Pux hung his head. “I’m never going to learn enough to be near her.”

Shimma closed her eyes and drummed her fingers on the ledge. Krishani was there. She could … well she didn’t know what she could do but he was with her and they weren’t … it wasn’t like it was before. Maybe … she had a chance. She pushed off the windowsill and handed Pux the folder. “I’ll come with you.”

Pux beamed. “Are you serious?”

Shimma groaned, feeling crazy on the inside. “You better open that package before I change my mind.” She went into the bedroom and grabbed her suitcase from behind the door. She was used to moving around so she didn’t have a lot of things, a bag of toiletries, a few pairs of shirts and pants, the essentials. Pux leaned against the doorframe and she looked up from the other side of the bed, folding a pair of pants.

“Robert Goodfellow?” he cocked an eyebrow.

Shimma smiled, amused by his discomfort. “Did you honestly believe humans wouldn’t write poetry and plays about you?” She reveled in the nauseous expression on his face. “It’s not my fault the humans know you by that name. You made all the trouble yourself.”

Pux clapped the passport shut. “The humans have lore … about me?”

Shimma’s jaw dropped for a second, out of relief. She blinked as she zipped up the suitcase. Pux spoke in perfect English, his accent faded. “I was beginning to worry about my capabilities.”

“What?”

“You’re speaking English.”

Pux raised an eyebrow. “I’m not thinking in English.”

Shimma grabbed the handle of the suitcase and ushered Pux into the living room. He backed up, hands in the air, passport in his left hand. She looked him up and down. “Language aside, we have a lot to do.” She slid on her flats.

“What do the humans call you?”

“They don’t know my name.” She unlocked the tumblers and slid the chain off the door. She looked at Pux who seemed to be rolling around a sarcastic comment in his brain. He pulled his eyebrows together, opened his mouth but nothing came out. He pressed his lips together, preparing to try again but Shimma cut him off. “The Weird Sisters.” Pux laughed so loud it echoed off the walls. She pointed a finger at him. “If you repeat it I will take away your humanity so fast you won’t have time to blink.”

Pux frowned. “That’s not funny.”

Shimma opened the door and pulled her suitcase along behind her. “Come on, I’m going to give you a crash course in being human.”

***

Chapter 13
Passports and Terminals

Weeks passed before Shimma agreed to go to Canada. Samhain came and went, and other than a few people lighting candles and a lot of people going to big buildings Shimma called Cathedrals, nothing special happened. Apparently Samhain wasn’t a huge festival on Earth anymore.

Pux shifted on the vinyl upholstered chair trying to get comfortable. Airport terminals were a whole other thing for him. Sliding his carry-on bag down a conveyor belt and stepping through a metal detector, being wanded down by a man in uniform, passing the kiosks on their way to the rows of chairs. Pux was nauseous the entire time and Shimma’s only answer was Gravol. She handed him a paper bill and pointed to the nearest generic kiosk. He downed six tablets before the flight attendant began calling out rows. Shimma stood, rolling her small carry-on into line with everyone else. Through the big glass window Pux saw the gargantuan airplane. He grabbed Shimma’s forearm and she shot him a look.

“Are you sure we can’t call the boat?”

Her blue eyes widened, squares of fluorescent lights reflecting off them. “Calm down. People do this all the time.”

Pux looked at the blue carpet. “Not me.” He shuffled foot-to-foot wanting to get the queasy feeling out of his stomach and throat. He counted backwards from one hundred as the line moved forward. Shimma handed the woman her passport first and something beeped.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Kristiansen,” the attendant said.

Pux stepped forward, uncomfortable in boot cut blue jeans and button down light gray shirt. Shimma bought him a whole new wardrobe, but refused to let him wear Hawaiian shirts. They were the only thing he liked. Jeans scratched against his skin, and runners made his feet ache but they were the most comfortable the store had to offer. After trying to explain to the sales rep he was used to going barefoot, he clapped his mouth shut and bought the damned shoes. He handed the woman his passport, watching as she scanned the barcode and handed it back to him. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Goodfellow.”

Shimma waited for him in the narrow chute leading to the plane. He caught up to her and took long strides, trying not to lose his balance on the downgrade. He glanced at her. “You didn’t take Istar’s name?”

She shrugged, the corner of her mouth rising. “I’m not going to tell them I’m Shimma, Daughter of Lord Istar of Avristar, am I?”

Pux laughed. “There isn’t a translation is there?” He tried to keep his mind off the cramped space inside the plane and knocked his shoulder into Shimma’s sending her a bit off balance, her right hand flashing out to touch the side of the chute. He winced as she regained herself and shook her head, moving ahead of him. She stepped onto the plane and Pux followed, nodding at the flight attendants in blue, white, and red suits, gold nametags fastened to their lapels, bright red lipstick covering their lips. He took in every little detail, including the one woman in a red and white suit, wearing red flats, red lipstick, and no nametag. She had long auburn hair and was nearly as tall as the other women. She stood off to the side, looking at the floor. Pux shook his head and followed Shimma to their row. She took the window and forced Pux into the middle seat.

“Can I have the window?”

Shimma gave him a withering look. “You don’t want the window.”

Pux fastened his seat belt and leaned in. “Was that Atara on the plane?”

Shimma shook her head. “No. Nobody’s seen her in thousands of years, Pux.”

Pux sat back, as a young girl took up residence in the seat beside him, her chestnut brown hair landing on his shoulder as she sat. There were little televisions on the backs of the seats and Pux played with the channels, flipping through them while he waited for the plane to take off. Shimma opened her hand, two capsules in her palm.

“Down these before takeoff.”

Pux concealed them. “What do they do?” He’d learned enough about medicine to know that the old ways of herbs, tinctures, teas, and pastes were a thing of the past. These days’ humans had a pill for everything.

“Sleep.”

A lump rose in his throat. He put the pills in his mouth and tried very hard to salivate so he could swallow. On the third try he got it, and settled into his seat. The attendants ran the safety course, and the plane taxied to the runway. Pux’s eyes blurred as the sleeping pills took effect and he nodded off.

He spent the rest of the journey half asleep, waking when Shimma told him it was time to get off the plane and dozing off again when they collapsed at the next terminal. It took three different planes to get to their destination in Toronto, at which point Shimma said they couldn’t fly anymore. It was late afternoon, sun slicing through big windows like a flash of lightning, throwing sparks of light into Pux’s eyes. He constantly found himself rubbing his eyes. Shimma shoved him onto a cement platform and stood in a line for taxis. When it was their turn, a man in a turban grabbed Pux’s suitcase and threw it into the trunk along with his carry-on. Shimma climbed into the back seat and motioned for Pux to follow. Too tired to care he crawled in beside her and fastened his seatbelt.

He nodded off until the car stopped abruptly and Shimma jumped out, handed the driver a twenty and grabbed Pux’s hand. He didn’t know what she was doing but the effects of the sleeping pills were wearing off, a blazing headache mushrooming across his temples. He rubbed his forehead trying to soothe the pain as she pulled him across another parking lot and into a small office that smelled like mint. He sat on a chair in the waiting room beside a plastic picnic table, crayons scattered across the surface.

A while later Shimma herded him out of the office and they followed a guy through the lot to a black car with red interior. The side of the car had the words “Camaro” glued onto it. Shimma smiled at the guy and took the keys, popping the trunk. She loaded their suitcases.

“You have seven days to register it,” the sales rep said as she unlocked the doors and Pux opened the passenger side, sliding into the wide comfortable seat. Shimma took the wheel and roared out of the parking lot. Pux felt dizzy as she weaved through cars on the freeway and then everything about the big city faded and rocks, evergreens, and strips of sunset surrounded them. A semi rolled down the other side of the two-lane road and Pux flinched.

“Are you okay?” Shimma asked.

Pux nodded, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He really wasn’t okay, his stomach was twisted from the constant moving, his ears popped a million times and his vision was blurry but he was excited, nervous, and worried about seeing Kaliel. He kept reliving the last conversation he had with her, the way she looked so defeated and afraid of herself punching him in the gut every single time. He should have said something, or stayed with her. He shouldn’t have left her to fight all alone. Not that there was anything he could have done against the storm, but … he should have taken her back to Avristar with him, not left her to freeze to death. To that effect he shouldn’t have left Jack either, but … he doubted Jack would have left his parents and the villagers, even if Pux gave him that option.

It was colder in Canada. His breath made opaque shapes in the air when they were outside and he zipped up the sweater until it almost pinched his neck, wanting something warmer. The heat inside the car made it bearable. Shimma had the radio on, German techno music blaring through the speakers. He let out a breath, fogging up the window.

“What … what did they write about me?”

Shimma shrugged. “Everything they could find I suppose. Shakespeare wrote about you, and Istar and Atara, all of Avristar really. There were others, scholars writing about King Arthur.…”

“That was his name,” Pux exclaimed. Shimma shot him a look and he looked at his lap. “Sorry, I … I visited his grave a few moons ago.”

Shimma pointed at his mouth. “That, is a word you need to stop using.”

“What?”

“Moons. And you can’t go telling people you saw King Arthur the other day, what are you? Insane?”

“But that’s what I did.”

“Let’s get this straight. I’m your cousin from Norway. You lived in Toronto until you turned eighteen.”

Pux gave her a skeptical look. “And my parents?”

“They live in Toronto. Think of Istar as your dad or something.”

“Avristar is my only parent. I’m not going to pretend Istar is anything to me because he follows the Valtanyana and he betrayed all of us when he pledged his life and his land to them.”

Shimma gulped, looking uncomfortable. She concentrated on the road, not answering him right away. “You need to work harder at being eighteen.”

“I’m not eighteen. I’m … nine hundred and um … eighty-six … I think.”

Shimma sighed and turned down the radio so they weren’t practically shouting at each other. “Pux, you can’t tell people that. Darkesh will find her. He will find you, and me, and Krishani. We can’t fight them, so we need to blend in. Do you understand?”

Pux looked out the window at the blanket of stars across the sky. He nodded blithely, trying to clear his head and the mish mash of thoughts racing through it. He watched the landscape blink by them under the star light. “Nobody wrote about Kaliel … did they?”

Shimma didn’t look at him and he could only make out her faint reflection in the window. “Actually …”

“What did they write?” Pux asked, pouncing on the opportunity to talk about something other than their airtight cover story. He didn’t like not being able to fit seamlessly into Kaliel’s life without a series of lies to keep her from knowing who he really was. Being with Kaliel was like breathing, he couldn’t imagine how he’d gone without her, how many empty, boring days had passed without her living down the hall from him.

“You don’t want to know,” Shimma said.

Pux looked at her. “Was it bad?”

“They don’t write about her like she’s a person, Pux. They write about her like she’s a thing.”

Pux’s head swirled with dizziness. That was exactly what the Valtanyana thought of her—a thing. It sickened him how much influence they had over Earth and everyone living on it.

Pux tried not to think about the boat. It was bad enough he dreamed about Evennses all night, he didn’t need to have the boat distracting his thought process during the day. His mind screamed at him that taking the boat would be faster, but then another voice in his head told him he had to be human. He couldn’t satisfy the internal battle so he made Shimma stop for snacks and spent most of the long drive eating candies and chocolate bars. He tried a bag of chips but the salt made him so sick he threw up all over the floor of a gas station bathroom.

Shimma parked in front of a cement block, the apartment building looking like a rundown motel. Balconies lined the upper levels, a set of slippery metal stairs leading to the apartments. An hour later, Shimma emerged from one of the ground level apartments, keys in hand. Pux noticed the numbers two seventeen on them. She took her luggage with her, footsteps rattling the metal stairs. Pux shuddered; pulling his hood over his head, feeling weird his ears didn’t point up anymore. He rubbed his hands together. Shimma paused at the top of the stairs.

“You’re going to freeze down there,” she called. He heard her bump the door with her fist, pushing it open. He slipped on ice and gripped the car, his fingers feeling frozen the instant he touched metal. He slipped towards the trunk, narrowly grabbed his packs and stopped, bending his knees a little to get used to the ice. Suitcases in either hand he carefully ascended the stairs, using every ounce of strength he had not to slip. He made it into the apartment which was nothing special. There was a round kitchen table, fridge, microwave, deep freeze. The living room sat behind a large arch. Down the hall were three doors, one for the bathroom and two for the bedrooms. Shimma took the larger one at the end of the hall, leaving Pux to the one beside the bathroom. He stashed his suitcases in the corner, not bothering to turn on the light and sat on the bed, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Can we leave?” he asked, poking his head out of the room. He found Shimma in the bathroom loading toiletries into the large cupboard behind the mirror.

She shook her head. “It’s another seven hours to Kenora. I can’t do that tonight.”

“I can drive.”

Shimma scoffed. “I taught you European driving … on deserted roads. You don’t know how to drive in Canada.”

“I can learn,” he said, thinking back to the Great Oak and its opinion about his learning disability.

Shimma glared at him, her blue eyes resembling deadly poison. “Do you know what you’re going to say to her?”

Pux backed up, pressing his back against the wall. “I haven’t really thought about it. I thought she’d just … know who I am.” Shimma laughed, throwing her head back. She closed the door and Pux heard the shower. He banged on the door not wanting her to ignore him or ridicule him for the umpteenth time since he enlisted her help. “Please tell me what do.”

“Wait until tomorrow!”

“Can we eat? I’m hungry.”

Shimma opened the door a crack, steam billowing from the room. “We’ll order in. Need to keep a low profile.” She shut the door again.

Pux hung his head and shuffled back into his room, flopping onto the bed. He drummed his fingers on his stomach, practicing what he’d say to Kaliel when he saw her.

***