Broken Wings (21 page)

A tiny metal window snapped open. “What you want?”

“I’ve come to see Knife,” Rye said.

“You a member?”

“I’ve got business with Knife,” Rye said. “Knot Knapweed sent me. He knows
Knife. Yeah?”

A shout carried down the street. Rye turned. She heard a scuffle, a crash, then
nothing.

The door opened. Rye blinked in the sudden wash of light. She stumbled forward.
A claw pressed her chest.

“Not that.” The claw belonged to a bulky goblin with close-set yellow eyes and
razor-blades piercing his huge, pointed grey ears. “Not inside.”

Rye reluctantly set her broom down just outside the door. “It won’t get stolen,
will it?”

The goblin slammed the door shut.

“Right,” Rye said.

She stood in a luridly decorated corridor with fake gilt on the wallpaper, but,
oddly, a bare wooden floor. A tawdry, over-decorated door led off to the right.
That was where the voices, laughter, and music came from. The place reeked of
dreamweed smoke. Rye felt the doorkeeper’s malevolent gaze on her.

“Um. Is Knife in there?” Rye asked.

“Back room.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Rye’s wings ached from their defensive tightness. She could feel the goblin
watching her. She climbed up a short set of steps and walked around a bend. She
stood in a nearly dark dead end. Something scuttled across her foot. She knocked
on the only door.

“If that’s you, Slug, you can fuck off,” a deep female voice called.

“No, I’m not Slug,” Rye said.

“Who the fuck are you? Come in. Don’t make me shout through the fucking door,
you fucking idiot.”

The thick smoke congealing the air made Rye cough and her eyes water. She
blinked at the huge goblin woman in an improbable mauve negligee reclining on a
sofa.

“I’m looking for Knife,” Rye said.

“Shut that fucking door,” Knife said. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Rye. A friend of Knot Knapweed’s.”

“That gap-tooth fucking toad owes me money. You got it?”

“I don’t know about that. Sorry.”

Knife’s moist nostrils twitched. “What the fuck do you want, then?”

“Um. Knot said you could get me a new ident number.”

Knife’s ear tips rose and her eyelids lowered. “Did he?”

“Said you were the person to see.”

Knife took a long bubbling pull from a hookah. When she exhaled, she shifted.
Her negligee drew tight across her ample front. Rye had no idea that goblin
women had so many nipples. The effect was not erotic.

“It’ll cost,” Knife said.

“Yeah. I figured. I need two. How much?”

“Seven hundred. Each.”

Rye tried not to look dismayed. Knife didn’t strike her as the sort to haggle.
Well, she could do without one herself for now. She’d just get one for Holly.
“Okay. When could I get the number?”

“After you give me the fucking money. I ain’t no fucking charity. No money, no
numbers. You got that?”

“Yeah. I got it. Okay. I’ll… I’ll get it and be back.”

Rye turned. Her head was beginning to spin from the sickly sweet smoke. The door
burst open and knocked her backward. She tripped on the carpet and landed on her
backside.

“Hey, Knife! What the fuck?” A fat young goblin female with her pointed ears
painted toxic green stared down in surprise at Rye.

“Get her off my fucking floor,” Knife said. “What do you fucking want? Can’t you
see I’m busy?”

Rye was already rising when the young goblin grabbed her with strong claws and
hauled her up. She gave Rye a hearty slap on the back. The blow caught Rye
painfully on the top of her right wing bud and made her grunt.

“Hey!” The young goblin scowled at Rye. “What’s on your back? You ain’t hiding
no weapons, are you?”

“Weapons?” Knife said.

The young female grabbed Rye before she could deny it, shoved her face-first
against the wall, and roughly patted a claw over her back. “Fuck! This is just
like that whiny fairy that was here. Them’s wings, ain’t they?”

“So, you’re a fairy freak,” Knife said.

Rye wanted to bolt. But the young female barred her way, and it was unlikely
that the sleazy queen of the underworld would turn her over to the Immigration
Service.

“They gonna send you back?” Knife said. “That why you need a new number? Your
fucking lot don’t like thems that get away, do they? Do some bad shit to the
poor fuckers they get back, don’t they? This makes it different. A big fat
fucking difference. Numbers for fairies are two thou each.”

“What?”
Rye said. “Two thousand? But you just said seven hundred.”

“Two thou,” Knife said. “Or do you want to fucking argue and pay more, flying
freak girl? Or maybe you want to go back home? To the prayers and whips.”

Fey.
“Two thousand. Okay.”

As Rye closed the door behind her, she heard Knife chuckling.

Rye lifted the jug to swallow some more beer. She still had a couple of hundred
in savings, so she could afford to sell her broom for a bit less than she paid
for it. She’d ask around at work tomorrow. She’d get Berry’s number off Knot and
ask him if he knew of anyone who was looking for a broom.

The door opened. Rye shot to her feet and strode to the hall. Holly glared at
her.

“We need to talk,” Rye said.

“I’m tired.”

Holly strode to her bedroom. Rye stepped into the doorway to prevent Holly from
slamming the door.

“I’m pretty tired, too,” Rye said. “I’m tired of you pulling this shit. Don’t
you think you should have told me that you were going out?”

“Why?” Holly turned her back and began undressing. She threw her shoes at the
wall.

“Because I’m your sister. Because I care about you. Because I’d worry myself
stupid if you just walked out and I had no idea where you’d gone. Because I’d
never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Because I’m getting tired of
feeling like shit in my own home.”

Holly rounded on her. “I never asked to be your sister! I never asked to live in
this dump! I never asked to be a fucking fairy!”

“Oh, grow up! Life is shit! You deal with it. You don’t whine about it! And you
don’t play stupid games!”

Rye slammed the door, stomped across to the living room and slammed that door,
too. She sagged onto the couch. She had come that close to hitting Holly.

Rye woke before her alarm. She dressed and trotted down to Cloudnut’s
All-Purpose Store. He let her have a couple of old newspapers free. She sat
poring over the broom wanted ads while she drank her breakfast tea and ate a
bowl of budget beech nut flakes. She heard Holly’s alarm and continued with her
reading. Holly’s bedroom door opened. She paused before approaching the table
and sitting.

“The play was scathing,” Holly said.

“Yeah?”

“Frond Lovage is an astronomical actress. I bet the reviews will be white hot.
Can I look?”

“This is yesterday’s paper.”

“Oh,” Holly said. “You can see why everyone says that she’s the best new
shooting star. Daisy’s mum was crying in the last act. It wouldn’t have been so
bad if she didn’t keep blowing her nose really loud. Daisy and me wanted the
earth to eat us whole.”

“Sounds like you had a good time.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

Rye stood and carried her bowl and empty mug to the sink. She grabbed her
sandwiches for lunch and carried them into the hall.

Holly appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Rye?”

“What?”

“I guess I should’ve told you. About going to the play.”

Rye stared at her. She looked sincere. “I would’ve appreciated that.”

Holly folded her arms across her chest and frowned down at the floor.

Rye put her jacket back on the peg and walked toward Holly. “What’s been going
on?”

“That stuff you said about Fairyland. Is it true? Is that what would happen? Or
did you make it up to scare me?”

Rye wanted to hug her. “It’s not going to happen. You’re not going back. I
promise you.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? I’ve been reading books about Fairyland. I never have
before, because I thought someone would guess I was a fairy. But I’ve read every
book about it in the school library now. And they do some horrible shit. But…
but that stuff. Like you said. With… with the men. That isn’t in any books.”

Rye gently brushed an errant curl from Holly’s face. “We’re not there any more.
Sure some of what happens is ugly. We wouldn’t have run away from a terrific
place to live, would we? But don’t let it get to you, Holls. Yeah?”

Holly nodded. “Okay.”

“Good. I’ve got to fly. You be good, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Rye pulled her jacket on, shouldered her work bag, and reached for the door.

“Rye? I saw Flora at the play.”

Rye twisted around before she could stop herself. “Yeah?”

“She wasn’t anywhere near us. She was in a VIP box. I don’t think she saw me.
She was wearing the most scathing gown. And this astronomical headdress.”

Rye could imagine Flora looking gorgeous. Just like in that magazine article.
With Frond Lovage, the star of the play. But Flora couldn’t have lost her buds
yet if she was still wearing stuff to partly cover her hair. Buds that she got
for Rye.

Rye shut the front door with more force than she intended. It should not bother
her that Flora was going out, or that she was dating other women. Rye had
refused to keep seeing her. It was only natural that Flora continue her life.
Hadn’t she been seeing that Frond creature before?

Rye yanked the broom closet door open with a shriek of rusty hinges. She grabbed
her broom and slammed the door.

“Rye?” Holly stood in the front doorway. “You haven’t forgotten that I need that
stuff filled in for my applications?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten. It’ll take me a couple of days, okay?”

“I have to send them in soon.”

“I’ll keep my antennae tuned,” Leek the sprite said. “If anyone asks about a
broom, I’ll tell them about you. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Rye said. “Sure. Thanks.”

She trudged back up two flights of unfinished stairs. Knot straightened from
taking a measurement on the floor.

“Leek want your broom?” he asked.

“Nah.” Rye shrugged and grabbed the shovel. “I’ll keep looking. Someone is bound
to want one.”

Where could she find two thousand pieces? Perhaps Letty Elmwood might know of
someone who needed a dinner cooking. That might be worth a shot. Holly would
just have to wait a while. She hadn’t said when the deadlines for the
applications were. Perhaps they had a few weeks. It was worth a try.

At lunch, Rye ate a sandwich as she flew to Noonpine.

The Lightning Tree Gallery was quiet and calm. Rye wiped her hands on the back
of her ragged work pants before she wandered inside. Celandine the unnerving
sylph was nowhere to be seen. Rye heard voices from the mezzanine. One was Letty
Elmwood’s. Better not interrupt. Rye walked over to Flora’s weaving. They had a
fancy little plaque on the wall beside it now.
Flora Withe “You In Me.”
There
was no price.

Rye stared at the hanging. The pattern reminded her of the chaotic rainbow of
coloured skeins beneath Flora as she lay naked on the mess on the floor of her
workroom. Rye had never seen anyone as beautiful or as desirable. They had made
love. Awed, amazed, and already deeply in love, Rye had peeled off her clothes
to reveal herself as a fairy. Flora had not recoiled. Flora had reached out to
touch her. Rye could feel the ghost of warm fingers on her wing membranes. She
could feel Flora’s breath just before they kissed. The press of Flora’s lips.
She could feel Flora’s warm body in her arms. She could hear Flora’s laugh. She
smiled, because the echo of Flora’s happiness made her happy. She had wiped away
Flora’s tears. She had shared Flora’s laughter. She felt again that thrill,
which was part surprise and part awe and part disbelief, that shook her every
time she saw Flora again after a few days apart. It was as though Flora was
still inside her:
You In Me
. Rye had thought most of it ripped out as she had
watched Flora run across the park. But, as she stared at Flora’s weaving, Rye
felt it as strong as ever.

“Flora?”

Rye started. She jerked her head up to stare at the mezzanine. Her heart
stopped. Flora stood at the railing looking down at her. Pale. Unsmiling.
Watching her stare at the weaving inspired by their love.

“We should be going.” Another dryad woman stepped close to Flora. “Flora?”

Flora kept staring down at Rye. Rye stared back. There was not another woman in
Infinity like her. Would she read in Rye’s gaze how Rye still yearned for her
and loved her?

The strange dryad woman wandered out of sight. Letty Elmwood spoke. Flora
reluctantly turned.

Rye watched. Everything else in Infinity ceased to exist. Flora was just up
there. How long had she been standing there? Had she stood at the railing when
Rye walked in and Rye had not noticed? Impossible. Rye would have seen her.

Flora walked away from the railing, but shortly reappeared at the top of the
stairs. The other dryad walked behind her. With an unpleasant jolt, Rye
recognised Frond Lovage. After a shocked moment, Rye’s attention fixed back on
Flora. Rye watched her walk down every step. Getting closer. Step by step.
Apart from a couple of glances where she was treading, Flora returned Rye’s
stare. Flora looked like she was searching Rye’s face for something.

At the bottom of the steps, Flora halted. Rye watched her. It was all she could
do. There was only four paces between them. Infinity became just that short
space keeping them apart. Flora glanced at her hanging then back at Rye. She
looked like she was waiting for Rye to answer a question.

Every particle of Rye yearned across the gap. She imagined her soul tearing out
of her body. It would stride those four paces. It would softly touch Flora’s
face. It would feel the warmth of her. It would smell that hint of pine sap. It
would lightly and reverentially kiss her lips. Then it would fall to its knees
and wrap its arms around Flora’s waist and hold on as if it would never let her
go.