When Libby Met the Fairies and her Whole Life Went Fae (6 page)

She forced herself to stand up and walk to her bedroom door, stepped out into the hall—and ran smack into Maisey.

“Aunt Libby, do you
hear
that?”

Libby flicked the light switch.

Nothing happened.

And then she knew what the noise was.

Tree limbs breaking.

“It’s the ice. It must still be freezing rain out there. The weight of the ice is breaking the trees.”

“Tyler’s up, too,” Maisey said.

“What time is it?”

“A little after 3:00.”

They went downstairs. Maisey and Tyler had lit the pillar candles on the fireplace mantel. Tyler was sitting up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. He opened it up, inviting Maisey to sit under it with him.

Libby pressed her face to a windowpane but she couldn’t see much. She went to the kitchen and got a flashlight. Suddenly there was another, huge CRACK followed by the sound of breaking glass.

“Oh no,” she groaned. “The cars.”

The property had no garage. The two cars were parked on the driveway. Right under an ancient sugar maple.

Libby stood on the stoop, Maisey and Tyler behind her. The air felt weird, a swirling mix of warm and cold and dampness and stinging rain. The sound of the trees snapping, now that they were outside, was vivid, sharp, like gunfire, sometimes close, sometimes distant, constant and arrhythmic.

The flashlight beam was just strong enough that they could tell it was Libby’s car that had been hit. She couldn’t see exactly how much damage had been done, but she knew it wasn’t good. The top of the maple had snapped off and her Toyota had taken a direct hit.

“Oh, Aunt Libby!” Maisey was giggling, excited. “Your car is soooo totaled!”

“C’mon. We need to shut the door. It may be awhile before they get the power back on. We don’t want to cool down the house.”

“Good thing you have the fireplace,” Tyler said.

There was a half face cord or so of wood stacked up along a shed in the back yard. But Libby shook her head. “The chimney hasn’t been cleaned or inspected. We can’t use it. But it’s not very cold out, fortunately.” She remembered something else. “Just don’t open the fridge, okay? If we keep the door closed, it will stay cold until they get the power back on.”

“Sure thing.”

“There’s nothing we can do until morning. I’m going back to bed. You too, Maisey.”

“Should I call the power company?”

“Is the land-line working?”

Maisey picked up the phone in the kitchen. “Dial tone!” she reported.

“Okay. Call them. Stay off your cell phone, though, just as a precaution. Conserve the batteries.”

Libby climbed back into bed.

And she remembered.

That thing—that creature—had told her to move her car.

She lay there, listening to tree limbs break, and wondering how the hell a hallucination had known that a tree was going to break off and fall in one particular spot nine hours in the future.

♦ ♦ ♦

When she woke again it was light out.

But it was still going on—the crack of tree limbs snapping under the weight of ice.

Libby shivered as she checked a light switch.

Nothing.

She put on her robe and headed downstairs.

Maisey grinned when she saw her. “Morning, Aunt Libby. Guess what Tyler’s doing? Making coffee!”

If anything could have made Libby change her mind about her two unwanted houseguests, those last words came pretty close. “How’s he doing that?”

“Gas grill,” Maisey said proudly.

“Ah.” The grill had come with the house. Along with a lot of other junk Libby hadn’t had a chance, yet, to clear out. It had been left uncovered, up against the shed, she’d barely paid attention to it, much less considered trying to run it. It was pretty rusty. “What did he use for water?”

Maisey looked at Libby like she was asking a dumb question. “What do you mean?”

“Did he use tap water?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Okay.” Libby thought a moment. “Look, we need to be careful with using the water. What we have now—it’s whatever is in the compression tank in the basement. But the pump on the well can’t refill it until the power is back on. Once the tank is empty, we’re out.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll tell Tyler.”

They watched him from the kitchen window. Tyler and the shed and the grill were the only things out there that still had their normal shape. Every plant, bush, tree was disfigured, drooping under the weight of ice, sagging, and where the branches had touched the ground, they were fused to it by the shield of ice, pulled by the ice down from the sky and trapped against the ground.

“There must be an inch of ice, at least. Has the plow gone by?”

“Not that I’ve seen. The phone’s out now.”

Libby lifted the handset in the kitchen to hear for herself. Silence.

Tyler came in, carrying the coffeepot—a white enamel stovetop percolator Libby had picked up at a garage sale. Because it was decorative. Country chic and all that. He poured coffee into the three mugs lined up on the counter and handed one to Libby. Polite of him. The warm mug felt good in her hands and the coffee smelled sharp and bitter.

Maisey glanced at the fridge—she took milk in her coffee.

“No,” Libby shook her head. “If we keep the door closed, stuff will keep for a few hours—until the power’s back on. Otherwise . . .”

She paused. It suddenly occurred to her: it might not be realistic to assume they’d have power again in a few hours. “Ty, how much propane is in the tank, you think?”

“Dunno. Half a tank, maybe?”

Another tree branch snapped. It was from a tree near the house. They could hear the clatter of ice shards against the ice-clad ground as the branch fell.

“Hey, Ty, would you mind walking out to the road to see if the plow’s been by? Stay away from the trees.”

They watched him walk down the driveway. He had trouble keeping his footing. On the way back he took a little detour and looked at Libby’s car.

“There’s a power line down across the road,” he said when he was inside again. He gestured toward the north.

“I’m calling Paul,” Libby said.

♦ ♦ ♦

Fast busy signal on his landline.

She tried his cell.

“Hi! You got power?” she said.

“You’re joking, right?”

Not the answer she’d expected. “No.”

“Whole area got slammed. Aren’t you listening to the radio?”

“Huh? How am I supposed to—”

“Aw, Libby, don’t tell me. Living out in the middle of East Jeepers and you don’t have a radio?”

“Paul, it’s the 21
^st
Century. Not Little House in the Prairie.”

“For crying out loud—”

“You don’t have to be like
that
about it!” She noticed Maisey and Tyler were paying close attention to all this and turned her back to them, lowering her voice. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m sorry, Libby. It’s just that—this is bad. Really bad. State of emergency. People are in a panic. And you—you’re too far away for me to . . .”

Yeah. He’d wanted her to buy a place in the city. Actually, he probably wanted her to move in with him. But she wasn’t ready for that yet.

Okay. “I’m fine,” Libby said. Then remembered her car. “Well . . . except my car.”

“What happened to your car?”

“Tree fell on it.”

“Aw, no. Drivable?”

“I doubt it. But Maisey’s car is okay.”

“Okay. Good. When they open the roads Maisey can bring you up here.”

So the roads were closed. Right. State of emergency, that would do it. She hated to admit it, but he did have a point about the radio.

“You’ve got a fireplace there, right? So you can keep yourself warm?”

“Yeah,” she said. Little white lie. “And enough firewood to last a week, at least. Plus a gas grill, too. We had coffee this morning.”

“Okay. Better save your cell.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry I snapped at you, Lib. I’m a little stressed. I’ve got a ton of crap to do at work and I’ve only got about an hour’s worth of charge left on my effing laptop.”

“It’s okay. They’ll get this sorted out by tomorrow.”

He sighed. “Maybe. Look, I’ll call you back later, okay? To make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

“At oh-thirteen hundred hours.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

She closed her phone and looked at Maisey and Tyler. “Roads are all closed. I’m going to put on something warmer.”

Then she thought of something else. “Don’t flush the toilets. We may need to dip the water out of the tanks. It’s drinkable.”

Maisey made a face, but Tyler said, “Sure, man, it’s like, ultimate survivor mode. Cool.”

9

Being without power can be kind of fun for a couple of hours.

With the right attitude, it can be an adventure when it lasts for a day, even.

By day two, though, it gets kind of old.

Especially when you’re not even slightly prepared.

So Libby had discovered.

Then, come day three, forget it.

The house smelled like it had before she’d moved in—that dank, unlived-in smell empty houses have because the heat isn’t on and the windows are all closed up. It had that damp chill of an empty house, too. And also the quiet. No refrigerator hum. No furnace fan. Nothing, except the occasional creak as it shifted and settled.

Outside, it had finally warmed up. Mid-forties. The ice had begun to slide off the trees and the trees, released from the weight, were trying to spring back. But they didn’t look right. Nothing looked right, nothing looked normal. Some of the tree limbs were permanently bent, disfigured. Others were snapped off. It looked like someone had rolled a giant bowling ball over everything in sight.

Maisey and Tyler were heading to the city.

Maisey had a friend, Alicia, who was home from college—spring break—and her parents were one of the few lucky ones who hadn’t lost power.

“You can come, too,” Maisey had told her after she’d talked to Alicia on her cell. “I asked.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be fine.” Nothing against Maisey, but Libby couldn’t see popping up on some stranger’s doorstep asking for favors. Some things that work for nineteen-year-olds just don’t anymore, when you’re supposed to be an adult.

Maisey didn’t ask a second time. That’s another nice thing about being nineteen. Other peoples’ problems seldom loom very large in comparison to your own. On the other hand, Maisey was going to KILL herself if she had to go ONE MORE DAY without a hot shower.

Libby helped Tyler carry their stuff to Maisey’s car. Then the two of them exchanged glances and Maisey said, “Aunt Libby?”

“Yeah.”

“Would it be okay—can we siphon your gas? I’m sort of on empty.”

“Go ahead.” Libby’s car sure wasn’t ever going to need it.

“We’ll pay you back,” Maisey offered.

“Never mind.”

They watched Tyler perform the operation. He used a bit of garden hose he’d found somewhere and didn’t get any gas in his mouth, either. Even straggly-bearded teenagers have their talents, apparently. “Be careful,” Libby said as they got into the car. “If you see any downed power lines, turn back. You can live another day without showers.”

Maisey grinned and waved and they were gone.

♦ ♦ ♦

Paul’s idea, of course, was that she should catch a ride with Maisey and Tyler and have them drop her at Cal4. That’s where he was now, camped there, along with a handful of other staffers, because the office park’s power had come on the day before.

“I’m eating Lean Cuisine right now,” he’d said, to entice her. “Piping hot.”

She’d noticed the chewing. “Does Barb know?” Barb was the one who stashed Lean Cuisine in the office freezer.

“She’s stuck in Sodus. She won’t mind. I’ll replace it. So what do you say? I’d feel better if you were here.”

But there was no way she was going to sleep with him in his office, with everyone knowing about it. Not even for one night. She’d so hated the feeling of everyone gossiping about them when she was an employee, for starters. And what if Robbie saw her hanging around? You could never tell with Robbie. Let alone any of the new managers who didn’t know her, who might be staying there, too. And who might get the bright idea to start talking about
Skin Tones
. Out of sight, out of mind, and Libby’s little freelance gig was definitely safer.

“I’m fine,” she told him.

“You know the forecast, right? It’s going to get cold again.”

So what? She’d dress in layers. “I’m fine. I have a ton of books.”

♦ ♦ ♦

She also had enough food, at least for now.