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Her cigarette burned with the same low intensity as her eyes. Her breath didn’t fog in the cold- there was only smoke. From the cigarette and from her regular breath.
“You’re my escort?” Edith asked. “I was told I could pick up things they were able to get out of the house.”
“Guess we are,” Lucy replied.
“Ugh, more walking,” Verona groaned. Julette peeked out from the folds of Verona’s scarf at her neck. The cat’s body made it look like she had a hunchback, or a very overdone scarf. “We just did a loop around town, basically. And I hit the shrines today.”
“I hoped it would be Matthew.”
“Edith-” Lucy started.
“I’m not surprised it isn’t. But I hoped.”
Lucy watched as Edith took a drag of the cigarette. She noted the state of the cigarette. “Cig found you?”
“Mm hmmm. Stopped me at the perimeter, suggested I should wait for an escort. Or… not quite the perimeter here, but it’s the first semi-comfortable spot near it.”
“I see,” Lucy replied. She studied Cig for a second.
“He didn’t say or do anything inappropriate. There were no secret messages passed. He’s not rejoining Charles’ efforts. He was just doing his job, and I showed up…”
The ember at the end of the cigarette burned as Edith took a draw on it.
“…And provided me a neverending cigarette. You could argue he’s killing me, so really, isn’t he doing you a favor?”
“That’s not what we want,” Verona told her. “I don’t think it’s what Cig wants.”
“Cig’s wants are strange, aren’t they?” Edith asked, removing Cig from her mouth and looking at him. “No dopamine, no cortisol. It’s hydrogen cyanide, traces of lead, formaldehyde, bits of arsenic and ammonia, toluene, butane…”
“Weird line of thought,” Verona said. “You think that’s how he functions?”
Edith shrugged. “I’m in a weird mood. Dwelling on odd things, trying not to think about certain other things.”
“It’s Christmas Eve and you’re choosing now to show up?” Lucy asked.
“It is, I am,” Edith agreed, looking out over toward Kennet. “I told myself it was because family is stressful. They have expectations for me I’m not living up to. To them, I’m the loser. After Edith James woke up and spent two years quote-unquote ‘relearning’ the skills she had lost, her family was so happy.”
Lucy noted the change to how Edith was referring to herself. Or to how the Girl by Candlelight was referring to herself.
Edith went on. “The tests are fine, doctors are surprised I’m doing so well, but there’s no reason, they say, for me to struggle. My mental faculties are good, I can work, I can exercise. It’s becoming more of a strained patience. Edith James tried to kill herself and the refrain from her parents and sisters now is that she’s still given up on life, stopped trying at it. But… I’m not Edith. And that house isn’t my home. Kennet is. So coming here for Christmas feels… better. Even like this. That might be the real reason I came tonight.”
“But you did burn that bridge, you know,” Lucy said.
“And shat on the sizzling wood,” Verona added, unhelpfully.
“Charles and Lis burned and shat,” Edith said, just a little bit wry, as she borrowed Verona’s term. “They’re still here.”
“We’re not exactly skipping and dancing over it,” Lucy replied.
“Instead, you’re walking, out on the cold. You asked me why I was here on Christmas Eve. Why are you?”
“My brother’s helping a friend from high school,” Lucy said. “So I’m getting stuff done. Or was.”
“If I’m keeping you from I can leave. I don’t care that much.”
“Don’t,” Verona hurried to say. “No, it’s fine. This won’t take more than an hour, right?”
“Hopefully,” Lucy replied. “Want to go? Run the errand?”
Edith shrugged. The smoke that came from cigarette and her breath was about twice the volume it should’ve been. Her eyes continued to burn, half-lidded, like she was very tired, or disconnected.
“A small share of me is Edith James, muscle memory, traces of knowledge, the physicality, blood, sex, spit, sweat, and tears, they’re hers, really,” Edith remarked.
“Sounds about right,” Verona replied, upbeat.
“Pieces of me are echoes. Pyromaniac thief, the scattered emotions at a candlelight vigil. Pieces of me are spirits. Very few pieces of me add up to even half a person, but put them all together and there is more Self than can fit in a mortal vessel. Nevermind the elemental energy, spirit, and more. I don’t ever truly flex my muscles until I bend over, Edith James’ body opens, and the complex spirit of me stretches tall.”
Lucy nodded.
This felt like a weird conversation. To not leave Edith rambling to herself for the entire walk, she said, “That might just be life. All of us holding a whole lot back.”
“Practice aside, I’d say you’re one hundred percent of a person, showing little more than a tenth of who she is at a time, even in your biggest moments, a fully realized Self, normal,” Edith said. Her voice was calm but the look was vaguely resentful. “I’m, I’d guess, ten people’s worth of total personality and mentality crammed into a vessel, showing… less than you do, I think. Yet I’m a half-realized Self, if that, in the end.”
“Don’t say that’s because your better half is gone,” Lucy told her.
Edith shot her a glare, eyes burning. “No. It’s just reality. But having a better half is… helpful.”
“Have you considered, uh, bailing?” Verona asked.
“Bailing?”
Verona looked up at Edith. “The spirit world is supposed to be pretty diverse. There’s little spirit kingdoms and fiefdoms here and there. You could go somewhere you could stretch to full size. No being a mess of half-Selves crammed into one body.”
“And I’d disintegrate slowly without a vessel.”
“Hmmm. But maybe we could work something out? We don’t want you dead, but if you had a better equilibrium? It’d at least be one thing Matthew didn’t have to worry about.”
“He doesn’t have to worry about me. He doesn’t want me in his life? Fine. He doesn’t want me in his town? Fine. Is this really what you want out of me? To pester me, to get me away from Matthew?”
“No,” Verona said, tone of voice changing. “Not what I want, really.”
Was there a reason Edith had turned up? Lucy glanced at Verona.
That put a spin on this.
“Figured,” Edith replied. She sighed. “I think I’m in a unique position. In more than one way. With Musser’s group dissolving, I think I might be the person who most understands all of the various sides in play. Miss’s group. Charles’s. You. The humans.”
“You think you get us?” Lucy asked.
“I think I do. I don’t agree with you, but I think I understand who you are and what you do.”
“It’s a bummer,” Lucy said. She glanced at Verona, hoping she wasn’t derailing whatever it was Verona had planned. “Because it was nice, being able to hang out. You teaching us elementary elementalism and shamanism.”
“It was nice.”
Except you had ulterior motives all along. You led Matthew to pressure us and distrust us. Except you poisoned Matthew for years, feigning being the damsel in distress.
It was hard to hold her tongue, but Lucy did, because Verona might have an agenda here.
They walked past Verona’s place, past the convenience store, and over to the bridge. A car raced by, stirring up snow behind it, and Edith glanced aside, the light in her eyes going out as long as the car was out of view.
It was like her emotions were connected to it. When Innocents were gone and the light in Edith’s eyes returned, she looked like frustrations were boiling to the surface.
“Who, more than me, knows the sides involved?” Edith asked. “And who, more than me, has been turned away by those same groups? I helped run Kennet. I helped Charles. I helped you. And what do I get? I have to either give up my humanity to be a disintegrating mess of spirit, or I stay human and disintegrate in other ways. Worn down by life.”
“Well, I’m figuring you served your purposes to Charles-”
Edith made a sound that could’ve been at the midpoint between a ‘tsk’, a swear word, and a growl.
“And you did poison Matthew. Not-”
“He didn’t suffer that much. He- it wasn’t good, I know that. But he grew, rose to the occasion. He was half a person too.”
Lucy wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “I feel like ignoring the subject or minimizing it isn’t respecting just how serious it is. Or what it meant for Matthew.”
“I’m not trying to minimize or ignore it. But- there was a lot that went into it. Nothing is purely bad.”
“It wasn’t a good thing,” Verona said, echoing Lucy’s sentiment.
“Maybe I’ll go,” Edith said, pausing. “What’s the point? Some box of stuff I won’t have the heart to open?”
“But we’re talking to you,” Verona said, not hurrying to add anything, just adding it. “Shit went down. You did bad things. You should probably be in prison or some practice-based equivalent to prison. You’re free. You got really fucking lucky. So if you’re stuck in house arrest with family nagging at you and you’ve got no house, maybe that’s fair, even kind-”
“Or overly fair and kind, even,” Lucy added.
“Yeah,” Verona said. “And it’s overly fair and kind that we’re talking to you. But we’re talking to you.”
“Am I meant to be grateful?” Edith asked, stopping in her tracks.
“We’re talking to you because- or I’m talking to you because, well, I think there’s something there. The cool Edith who taught us, and, I dunno, maybe she knew she couldn’t have a kid so she supported other kids. Maybe, I dunno. Or the cool spirit who unveiled herself and set the stage before Alexander Belanger showed, or faced off against the whole contingent of practitioners to make challenging Matthew’s Demesne ritual harder.”
Lucy frowned.
“I guess, like, putting it in more complicated words?” Verona said, hands jammed into her pockets. “Maybe it’s like… you’re a mess. You’re a complicated, complex mess, and I don’t know what aspects of the Girl by Candlelight are the real highlights in that mess…”
“The pyromaniac child. The abyssal lantern. The vigil.” Edith replied.
“Well, uh… if there’s a baby in there, maybe we shouldn’t toss it out with the bathwater. Maybe change the bathwater?”
Lucy wasn’t sure what to add, or if she agreed, but she did smile, saying, “I always liked that phrase. Baby out with the bathwater. It’s such a visual image. Some nineteen-hundreds or whatever year nanny, tossing the contents of the little baby-washing tub out the window, bathwater sloshing, wide-eyed baby, wide-eyed nanny.”
“Right?” Verona replied, grinning. “It’s too bad we don’t use it more.”
“And what would changing my bathwater mean?” Edith asked.
“Dunno!” Verona replied. “Mayyybe it’s, I dunno, figuring out if there’s some piece of you that’s making you someone who could poison your husband for selfish reasons and not feel bad about it.”
“It wasn’t-” Edith started. She stopped herself.
“Or not recognize that it was poisoning, and a bad thing,” Lucy said, quiet.
Edith shot her a look, and Lucy wondered if she should’ve done up diagrams on clothing and skin in advance, to avoid being set on fire with too intense a look.
She shifted her stance slightly, making eye contact with Edith.
“Maybe,” Edith replied, looking away.
“Could be the pyromaniac, could be the abyssal energies weighting emotions differently. I bet Abyssal energies make it easier for a bogeyman to hurt people. We’d need to investigate,” Verona said.
“Investigate?” Edith asked.
“There are practices. Tests. Diagnostics. Some for magic items that can be changed, ways to analyze the Self. There are Hydes who use alchemy to become other people, to keep track of what’s going on, they’ve got a whole battery of self-administered tests. There’s stuff for others. Stuff for Heartless, like Matthew used to be, or Hosts, like he is now, for measuring the hole in your Self you’ve carved out, that you plan to shove some Other into.”
“And what you want is for me to sit down and let you try to fumble your way through tests, figuring out what gives the clearest picture, so you can fumble your way through surgery?”
“I am a crazy good fumbler,” Verona replied.
“She is. You know she is,” Lucy said. “Kennet Found was a thing Verona fumbled through, pretty much.”
“Metaphorical popsicle sticks and bubble gum,” Verona said. “Polished up a bit, verified by outside players… but that’s something I’d be wanting to do anyway. The other, simpler, more dangerous option is an Alcazar.”
“Dangerous,” Lucy said. “I’m imagining there being a lot of fire. And hot wax.”
“For sure,” Verona replied.
“What’s an- you’ve talked about it before. About the school,” Edith replied. “I don’t know what it is, exactly.”
“We turn you into a place and we go inside you. Explore the entirety of you. See if anything needs…”
“Renovating,” Lucy said. “Removal. Or just… noticing it exists, so we can handle it in other ways.”
“I know that takes a lot of trust,” Verona said. “But we could make oaths. Avery’s great at that stuff, by the way. Great explorer. Great at figuring out those spaces.”
“You think something’s corrupting me?” Edith asked.
“I…” Verona paused. “I think it might be bigger and way more comprehensive than that? But it’s not something we can’t work on?”
Lucy nodded. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it didn’t feel right that there should be something that easy to remove.
“Do you have ulterior motives? Have you been angling your way toward this for other reasons?” Edith asked.
“Ugh,” Verona replied. “You had to ask?”
“Given you want this level of trust from me?”
“Yeah. You really gotta ask?”
“And given the stakes? The fact we are not on good terms, and you’d be altering me at my core?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes. I need to ask. Do you have ulterior motives?”
“Uh, yeah?”
Edith raised an eyebrow, eyes burning more intensely now.
“I mean, I’m kind of surprised Red Chuck hasn’t shown up to wag a finger at me for bringing up the idea. But you know, if I’m being honest, a good chunk of my motivations is, like, practice is cool. You know me.”
“Mm hmm,” Edith replied. The light in her eyes wasn’t dimming.
“Maybe warn me before you do something that might have an angry Carmine on our ass?” Lucy asked.
“Okay,” Verona replied.
“Because, yeah, I’m sure he’s listening,” Lucy said, looking out over Kennet, toward the Arena, which was lit up in greens and reds for the holidays.
“Oh, I bet,” Verona said.
Edith was still staring.
“I don’t know if you want some more elaborate answer or excuse. I don’t got one,” Verona said. “Yes. The answer to your question is yes.”
Edith started walking again, past the two of them, toward her old house. Lucy glanced at Verona, and then followed.
“I believe you. That your intentions are mostly pure, mingled with personal interest,” Edith said.
“Cool,” Verona said. Lucy elbowed her.
“I’ve been trying to decide just what it is that keeps you from being able to cooperate with Charles,” Edith said.
“Besides the murder of a friend?” Lucy asked.
“Besides that. The scale of what you’re both invested in fixing and changing is big enough and- I don’t know, shared enough… I could see a world where you could agree to disagree, working together to change it. Even with John dying in the contest.”
“You might be underestimating how much that hurt,” Lucy said.
Verona was rubbing at her hand through her glove.
“It’s something I’ve wondered about. It left me feeling like I was missing something. You want the same sorts of things, but- it’s not just about the speed change happens, either. And hearing you make your offer, I think I realized what it is.”
“I mean…” Lucy struggled to find a response that didn’t let on how very pissed she was getting. “…killed John Stiles.”
“Charles, I think, believes that people are inherently good, and you don’t,” Edith said.
Lucy blinked a few times. She looked at Verona.
“I feel like that should really annoy the fuck out of me, but I might be too confused and fucking baffled at that to even get that far. What?”
“Explain?” Verona asked.
“Charles, deep down, seems to believe and hope that people start from a place that’s innocent and good and the forces of the world pollute that. The groups, the dynamics, the families, the practices, the patterns, the… principles, even. They get in the way of that inherent goodness. They lead people away from what they should be. It’s a dark sort of optimism, and a brutal one, because the solution seems to be tearing it away, tearing it down, dismantling it, or a grand reset to center.”
“I think people are good, I think?” Verona asked.
“You want to think people are good, I’m sure. We’re meant to, aren’t we? It’s in the movies, it’s on the television shows. We can manage great turnarounds, turn villain to hero, it just takes a fix. A removal of some corrupting force.”
“You asked about that. For yourself,” Lucy said.
“I did. But you don’t seem to think that’s it.”
“I don’t want it to be it. Too easy. I can see you wanting the easy fix,” Lucy told her.
They crossed the street. There weren’t many cars out.
“I was wondering what you’d say. It helped me make sense of it. Because now I don’t think you think people are good. I don’t know the details, but I think you think that people find good, or make good.”
“I didn’t expect a whole philosophical conversation on Christmas,” Lucy said.
“People are crummy,” Verona said. “Most adults I know are unhappy. I guess, like, a huge part of all of that is what you’re running into, Edith.”
“What’s that?” Edith asked.
They weren’t all that far from Matthew’s house.
“I think… we have a way of making the world a one-size-fits-all world. School, and houses, and clothes, and work, and rules, and expectations, and… most things. We make them available to more people, spread them around, and then simplify them to have broad, easy appeal. But one-size-fits all is a shitty fit for most people, and it’s hell for… for the weirdos. Or… minorities? I don’t have a great word for it. But if you don’t speak English well enough and you’re in this one-size-fits-all place that expects it, you’ll be sidelined. And behind. Or if you’re sick, or if you think differently.”
“I suppose I’m a weirdo then?” Edith asked.
“You’re Other, sure.”
“We’re animals,” Lucy said. “We’re… animals with a few billion years of evolution and thousands of years of trying to form society, sometimes taking us down the wrong paths, or giving us stuff that- maybe it helped in the moment, but it fucks us up today. Random shit like lactose intolerance and fucking tribalism and human tendencies to be, I dunno, grossly overly trusting of powerful men who sound confident and give them people to blame?”
“To Charles,” Edith said. “If you take a terrible man and you torment him, test him, and strip away the layers, you can remove the dressing, remove the excuses, remove everything bad, and there’ll be someone fundamentally good at the core, someone who finds strength and their true potential because they have to…”
“Because he was that terrible person?” Verona asked.
Edith nodded.
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way,” Lucy commented.
“Or, if you strip everything away and apply enough pressure to the man, sometimes you destroy the man and at least that way, there’s one less bad person out there.”
“Okay I believe that part works that way,” Lucy said. “Still… lot of holes in that.”
“I’m sure people could poke holes in your philosophy.”
“We’re fourteen,” Verona pointed out. “I’d sure hope people could poke holes in our philosophy, or else they’d be really dumb people.”
“If Charles is building this off his own experience…” Lucy said, trailing off, searching for a way to phrase it. Knowing Charles was listening. “How does he reconcile the fact he still sucks… so much.”
“So much,” Verona said.
“He was forsworn, and he went through shit as a result and he thinks that made him good? Or great? He… really really sucks.”
“Sucks fat sloppy cock,” Verona said. “The kind of fat sloppy cock that should not be sucked, you know?”
Not how Lucy would’ve phrased it, but she nodded with emphasis. “He is the sort of fat sloppy cock that should not be sucked. Metaphorically. Because he sucks so much. Fuck, I hate him.”
She surprised herself by how much she really felt that hate, voicing it aloud. Enough it broke her momentum a bit.
“We’re getting sidetracked,” Edith said, almost a mercy.
“I’m not even sure he denies he’s terrible,” Verona added. “Based on my last conversation with him?”
“I’m only guessing as to what he thinks, based on how he’s acted and what he’s done. Maybe…” Edith stopped. She looked at the house from the end of the driveway, not approaching it. “Maybe he just thinks it makes people better, and doesn’t distinguish much between being good and being great, so long as it’s a combination of the two.”
“Okay. Makes some sense,” Lucy said. She thought of Charles’ reasoning for Kennet below.
“You guys, evolution, natural human tendency, whatever it is, you seem to take the pessimistic approach. But when you tell me you think there’s room for improvement? And that it’s not going to be easy because you have to get past all the…”
“Crap,” Lucy supplied. “Bullshit. Life.”
“Yeah. I believe you mean that. That your offer is honest enough. Not sincere, entirely or even mostly. But enough,” Edith said. She sighed. Then she walked away.
Down the driveway to the garage. There was a keypad. She dialed in the number.
“He changed the number,” she said.
Lucy got her phone out, but she didn’t even have it turned around the right way when it buzzed.
Matthew. Who she’d been about to call.
She answered and put it to her ear.
“You’re at my house?”
“Yeah. With Edith.”
“Thought so.”
“You changed the code.”
“Okay. I wanted to know if and when someone went in my garage, so I could be sure it was locked up. I do have a lot of things in there.”
“Any instructions? Preferences?” Lucy asked.
“Nah. She can take whatever she can drive off with.”
“She stopped outside of town and walked in.”
“I worried a certain gremlin might decide I was unwelcome and do something to my car,” Edith said, while Matthew was replying, “Got it. Hmm.”
“Start with the number?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah. Zero two eight one.”
“Zero two eight one,” Lucy said.
Edith punched in the numbers. The garage door rumbled open.
Furniture was stacked inside. Boxes were packed in along the wall and in front, leaving a path barely big enough for a person to squeeze along, between the garage door and the side door. The stuff was piled up enough that it blocked the garage light, so the only real light was ambient moonlight bouncing off of snow and in through the window in the side and the open front.
“Matthew says- you can take whatever you can drive off with, I think,” Lucy said.
“I don’t have the car. I expected a box or two.”
“She can set stuff off to the left, some boxes of her stuff are over there already. Put any boxes or things there. Make a note of any furniture. I’ll work it out. Send a mover to her mom’s.”
Lucy relayed that.
“There’s no room at my mom’s,” Edith said. She looked diminished. The garage being full, the scale of it- how much work it would take to move anything big. The boxed up life.
“There’s no room,” Lucy said.
“If she figures it out, she can let me know any time in the next couple of years, I guess,” Matthew said. “But there might be weather damage, and the longer the wait… I dunno. I don’t want this hanging over my head for too long.”
“You get some time,” Lucy relayed. “He’s not an asshole. But not too much. Don’t push it.”
“Works,” Matthew said.
Edith began poking around in boxes. Verona put the cat down and sort of helped, sort of watching Edith. Lucy walked down the driveway, phone at her era. “Sorry to drop this on you tonight.”
“It’s her, right? Not your choice?”
“Yeah. You guys okay? Having a nice night?” Lucy asked, once she was far enough away from Edith.
“We’re okay. Nice night. Baked stuff, beer for me, wine for Louise. Blanket. Movie.”
“Singular blanket, huh?”
“No comment.”
“You better romance that lady, Matthew. She’s been really helpful.”
It sounded like he’d moved into another room. “I’m not good at that, I don’t think.”
“Well… try.”
“I’m- I dunno. I’m trying to get the baseline down. Being warm, attentive, paying attention, doing the occasional nice thing.”
“What do you think being romantic is?” Lucy asked.
“I- something more spontaneous? I imagine a lot more rose petals.”
“I’m surrounded by brutes and boneheads,” Lucy said, looking at Verona. “Sure. Throw in some rose petals too if that helps. Merry Christmas, Matthew.”
“Merry Christmas. Sorry you’re dealing with my ex.”
“It’s fine. My brother went to go help a friend. I’ll head back soon. You available tomorrow?”
“I heard about that. Yeah. I’m available.”
Verona was walking over. Lucy kept an eye on Edith while Verona’s back was turned to her.
“Alright,” Lucy said. “See you then?”
“Sure thing. Let me know if you have more questions or if you need details on anything in the garage.”
Lucy nodded.
“I want to be done with that stuff, loaded with bad memories now, I want to be done with the house. I’m not fighting to keep much of that, so if she wants it she can have it. Don’t go arguing on my behalf to try to keep it, unless it’s, dunno, all of it.”
“Got it, I think,” Lucy replied.
“Less stuff means less ties between me and her. Anyway, I don’t want to dwell on this. Not tonight. But do call if you need to. I’ll let you go.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Lucy stood there, Verona beside her, Julette in the garage, watching Edith from a bed without legs that had been placed over some boxes.
“I don’t think we’re going to get many great details about Charles out of her. She seems to not be in touch with him. But she’s not so out of touch with him that she’s going to spill, whatever the consequences,” Verona noted.
“Yeah.”
Edith moved boxes over to the left, picked out two, and carried them out, depositing them in snow. She went to the console and closed the door. Julette came bounding out, leaping from the high point of a stack of boxes to the box Edith had put down, then from there onto the second box. She stopped there, facing Verona, and meowed loudly.
“So annoying, sometimes. You can get your little paws cold. Plenty of animals do it,” Verona remarked, at a volume Julette might not be able to hear. She didn’t budge from the end of the driveway.
“You think we can sell her on the Alcazar? Or the diagnostics?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah. But I’m not sure how much ground we can cover with that before anything big happens. Might be why Charles isn’t getting fussy,” Verona said.
Lucy nodded. She walked forwards, clapping her hands, and bent down. Julette leaped the four or five feet of distance, into Lucy’s waiting arms, just before Edith picked up the box Julette was on.
“He’ll mail the boxes?” Edith asked. “I set them aside.”
“Yeah. And any furniture. Moving truck, I guess.”
“I don’t want furniture. Just the boxes.”
“Okay,” Lucy replied.
“You don’t have to escort me out.”
“We’re going that way anyway.”
Edith nodded. She shifted the boxes uncomfortably.
“Want us to help carry?” Lucy offered.
Verona looked affronted.
Edith gave them a box. Verona and Lucy carried it between them, using the handle built into the box. Julette leaped down from her perch at the bend of Lucy’s arm to the box, and rode atop it, regal. Edith carried the other box.
Out of the neighborhood, back toward the bridge.
There was a cloud hanging over Edith. No fire in her eyes. Something about it made it feel like talking or prying or any more conversation about motives or about Charles would go awfully.
They passed Lucy’s house, and she saw her family was back home.
“I can handle the rest,” Verona said. “Then go to my dad’s.”
Lucy considered. She shook her head.
It was only a few blocks out to the rest stop and few blocks back.
“About the Alcazar,” Lucy said. “You didn’t sound opposed.”
“I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” Edith said.
“You said you believed us.”
“I do. But Charles already made an offer. A spirit surgeon. I think that’s why he wasn’t, as you put it, appearing to wag his finger at you. He knew he’d offered, I’d accepted. He beat you to it.”
Damn, damn, damn.
Edith was a few paces ahead of them. Verona echoed the thoughts in Lucy’s head with her expression, swearing up a mean streak without actually making sounds.
They walked another minute or so in what was mostly silence. Verona motioned, and she and Lucy exchanged sides, so they could each use their other arm for carrying the box.
“Edith?” Lucy asked.
“Yes?”
“How well did it go, the last few times you trusted Charles with that sort of thing?”
Edith looked down at the box.
“Have he and his spirit surgeon sworn a lot of oaths?” Lucy asked.
“Honestly? When they asked, I didn’t care. And now? Right this moment? I’m not sure I care. If he wants to take me to pieces and use the pieces for something…”
Edith trailed off.
“Like making you a weapon? And making you do something terrible to people you care about?” Lucy asked.
Edith looked at her. Probably thinking about Matthew.
“He did it to Yalda. Like, twice. You think he won’t do it to you?”
“I’m not sure I care. If he changes something using me, or turns me into something, maybe that’s penance.”
“I think, uh…” Lucy struggled. She looked at Verona. Then back to Edith. “If you want to do better penance? Let Matthew have his house back? Say words? Swear to not come back, to make no claim, forfeit all connection?”
There was no fire in Edith’s eyes, but as she digested those words, there was a deep, widening sadness there. It was like watching someone fast forward through the process of being healthy and being starved, their eye sockets hollowing out. Except, like, emotional. Metaphorical. No actual concrete change.
“It’d be halfway decent,” Lucy said, quiet. “Forfeit the furniture. Let him properly cut ties. Let him stop worrying. Let him – I think the way he talked about it, he wouldn’t want the house, but maybe he could rent it out. Or repurpose it, to be an actually useful Demesne. It’d be a nice, final Christmas present.”
If she’d taken a baseball bat to Edith and beat Edith everywhere that winter clothing and toque would cover up the actual damage, she was pretty sure the woman wouldn’t look quite as wounded as she did, hearing that.
Which, like… fucking good.
Made sense, considering she was more spirit than not.
“No,” Edith said.
“But-”
“Shut up,” Edith cut Lucy off.
Lucy blinked.
“I’m not ready to do that yet. Don’t say anything, don’t do anything. I’ll get pissed off, and we won’t get anywhere.”
Yet, Edith had said.
“About the Alcazar, or the spirit surgery,” Verona said.
“What about it?”
“When is it?” Lucy asked.
“End of the week.”
Lucy nodded.
“Why?” Edith asked.
“Feels a lot like… I dunno. You served a purpose and you were discarded. Now they’re going to… what?”
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Edith asked.
“Make you serve another purpose again?” Lucy asked. “Grind and wear you down to expose the kernel of you that’s motivated to fight free, to unleash her full potential?”
Edith’s eyes burned momentarily as she looked from Verona to Lucy. “Maybe. It’s part of what I’ve been thinking about, all this while. Before I brought it up to you.”
“I wonder what would happen if you asked for us to be present and involved for the spirit surgery,” Verona said. “Another set of eyes, different motivation. Guarding things, to… make sure it’s making you a better you? And not a tool?”
“Do you have an ulterior motive for offering?” Edith asked.
“Of course,” Verona replied. “To start with, magic is cool.”
“And to end with?”
Verona shrugged.
Lucy glanced at Verona, then met Edith’s eyes. “Nothing that hurts you.”
“Why offer? Those ulterior motives?”
“Because…” Verona floundered for a moment. “…We’re not friends. Barring some Alcazaring and a lot of work, and you accepting and owning shit, and giving Matthew his house back, and…”
“And getting the fuck over yourself,” Lucy said. “That’d help.”
“That. But imagine it phrased nicer,” Verona said. “We’re not friends. But you’re- you talked about how you thought maybe if the stars aligned right, we could get over John and cooperate with Charles for mutual ends?”
“Yeah,” Edith said.
“Well… can you get over Matthew and all the other bullshit and accept that neither you nor we want you to get turned into a weapon?”
“Or dead, or obliterated, or harvested for resources,” Lucy said. She wasn’t entirely positive that Edith didn’t have some desire to be destroyed or taken to pieces, though. It didn’t sound like Edith had much- no convictions, no desires, no goals, no attachments.
Edith shifted her grip on the box, stepped forward, and placed the box on top of the one Lucy and Verona were holding, before taking hold of that one, holding the two boxes with one stacked atop the other.
“Is that a no or a yes?” Lucy asked.
Edith nodded.
“Yes, you’ll move for… outside oversight? Us?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Lucy replied, quiet.
Her heart felt heavy.
Edith seemed to consider, then, looking off toward Kennet, in the direction of the house that had once been hers, she said, “Charles may think a given person is intrinsically good. But the others don’t. Maricica, she may not be Fae anymore. Her schemes don’t reach as far, but they have weight. Karma behind them. And something meaner, because she’s of the Abyss. But she still has that old trait of hers. She thinks a given person is inherently interesting. And that bad things happening to them makes them even more interesting.”
Lucy wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“Lis? There is no person. Not really. To her, there are people. Groups.”
“A person can be good, a people gets pretty dumb, pretty fast,” Lucy said. A given churchgoer could be a sweetheart, but the church… could be scary, as a thing. A given teacher could be great, but the school… pretty ass.
It was one of the things she kind of liked about Kennet below. That it was at least honest about all that.
“Or mean,” Edith said. “That’s how she sees the world, I’d guess.”
Lucy nodded.
“That’s not meant to be ammo against them. I’m not invested enough to give you that. But it’s how I think of them,” Edith said, her arms folded. “Maybe it helps you connect. Maybe not. But if they ask, I’ll tell them what I think about you girls.”
“Will they ask?” Lucy asked Edith.
Edith opened her mouth, her tongue making a small click sound as she did. “I suppose they don’t need to. Charles is probably listening in. They watch you. They watch me. They have ideas in their heads.”
Lucy nodded.
“Thanks for the escort, I guess,” Edith said. “Don’t wish me a merry Christmas.”
“Okay,” Lucy answered.
Edith walked away, crossing the bit of park with picnic tables in it, wading through the snow. She paused to rest the boxes on the table there, removing Cig from her mouth, and placing him in a snow-dusted ashtray. Then she picked up the boxes again and trudged in the direction of the road, where her car was parked further down.
Lucy and Verona turned back.
They’d gotten a bit of insight, but mostly they’d found inroads. If Edith was getting that spirit surgery and Lucy, Avery, and Verona were going to be in attendance, that let them see what Charles’s contacts were up to, how they operated.
Kind of like the thing she was working on, that she’d invited the St. Victor’s practitioners to.
“Good?” Verona asked.
Lucy shrugged and nodded.
“I’ve got a dilemma,” Verona said.
“Oh yeah?”
“On the one hand, I can go home, and I imply to my dad that my mom gave me a cat and the cat’s staying, and I see just how huge a shitfit he throws, when he’s trying really nice to be good for Christmas.”
“Uh huh? Is it worth it?”
“Might be. Option two is I run a bath and have a nice hot bath at what’s probably eleven o’clock at night? About?”
“Thereabouts.”
“My calves feel so sore, it’s awful. But my dad’s going to be annoyed because he wants Christmas Eve with me, and I’d be late, then I’d be shutting myself in the bathroom, so I could see the shitfit he’d throw there.”
“Uh huh?”
“And on the third hand, let’s assume I’m a multi-handed horror, for our purposes here. I could do both. Cat reveal and bath. Maybe he loops around to not knowing how to be pissed enough?”
Lucy sighed. “I dunno, Ronnie. Maybe take it easy, conserve your energy?”
“Bleh.”
“Maybe frame it like… you need a bath, but that’s because you left your mom and went for a walk? Let him imagine what he wants?”
“I dunno. Feels like I’m helping him be horrible.”
Lucy nodded.
“I’ll figure it out, I guess.”
They’d reached the edge of Lucy’s house. Lucy hugged Verona, then scratched the cat behind the ears.
“See you guys tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
Lucy went up the driveway, letting herself into the house. Christmas music was playing, and there were people talking.
She kicked off her boots, put her bag away, and walked over to the end of the front hall, so she could see into the living room. Booker and Alyssa were snuggled on the couch, blanket over them, her mom was sitting, and it looked like Verona’s mom had left.
“Get Verona home safely?” her mom asked. Lucy nodded. “New coat?”
“Yeah. Was a gift. From the guys.”
“The guys?” Booker asked.
“Same ones who gave me my guitar.”
“Hell, I wish I knew guys like that. Nice coat.”
“Come, sit,” Alyssa urged.
Lucy didn’t want to take the coat off, so she walked over, pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and sat with the coat as extra cushioning behind her.
“How did things go with Hugh?”
“Hugh… we got them to go to the hospital. Dunno how it’s going to go long term,” Booker said. “Honestly, trying not to think about it. Sorry. Bailing like I did.”
Lucy shook her head. “It’s okay, but…”
“But?”
“But make it up to me. Tomorrow night. There’s a thing.”
“A thing.”
“A bit of a surprise thing.”
“Tomorrow we’re supposed to be heading to Alyssa’s family.”
“Traveling on Christmas day?” Lucy asked.
“It’s the compromise. It’s- yeah,” he said. “It’s just how it works out.”
Lucy sat back, thinking.
“You can tell us about the thing, though,” Alyssa said, reaching out for Lucy’s foot, which was right beside her, and giving it a jostle.
Lucy’s first thought was to give a very goblin-inspired response.
Which led into her second thought.
She’d learned about stances from Guilherme. Framing her posture, to let things slide by her. But in all things, there were different approaches. A Fae could be subtle, conveying whole stories with fractional changes in expression. Dogs of War… she’d have to dwell on that. What posture and action meant. She was struck by the thought of John Stiles, underwear model, and had to fight not to smile, because she didn’t really want to smile. Especially not now.
No. She had to tap into other forces, about presentation. Her fingers toyed with the zipper at the end of the coat, and she borrowed from a lesson a goblin had taught her. Turning her eyes toward Booker, for the full blast Biscuit puppy-dog eyes. One shot of it. Then she looked away. This wasn’t manipulation, or pressure, or anything gross. It was… her heart laid bare.
“Lucy, that’s- it’s-” he started, faltering.
He didn’t want to go, not really.
She turned it to Alyssa.
“And?” Verona asked.
“Booker’s staying around, staying overnight. Leaving first thing. He’d be arriving last thing anyway, so it’d be a repeat of what last night was,” Lucy explained. “The last minute, hectic arrival, no time to enjoy anything. That’s the rationale, anyway.”
“Sweet.”
“I hope so. I think they actually had a nice day today. He did leave to see some of his friends.”
“You left, to see friends. Me. Just now. You’re seeing me now.”
“That’s true,” Lucy replied. She looked at the cat that had draped itself across the back of Verona’s neck and over one shoulder, scarf partially covering her. “Two of you.”
“True that.”
The wind blew past, and Lucy wasn’t wearing a hat, so she moved her head and adjusted her posture, to let the cold wind blow past. As practice, and for the convenience.
She didn’t see any of the St. Victor’s practitioners. It was evening, and where things had slowed down this morning, Kennet had kind of exploded in activity over the course of the day. People gathering together for Christmas were now anxious to get out, to grab easy food at restaurants instead of making another big meal or eating leftovers.
She did see- and hear- Avery’s running approach. Avery dragged Nora behind her. “Heyyyy!”
“Heya!” Verona called out.
Lucy fully turned to face her friend, smiling. And as she did, the stance she’d been holding to break the incoming cold disrupted, and there was a stir of wind. Which wasn’t so much magical, right in front of Nora, as just a weirdly well timed, complementary stir of wind and swirl of snow framing her. She saw Nora’s eyes widen.
But Nora was cute. Smaller than Lucy had thought she’d be, based on video and pictures. Big long black coat, black sweatshirt, gray-black plaid skirt with black leggings on underneath, and big boots. Her locs added to the effect, a kind of controlled messy with a few tending to fall across her face. With her darker skin and darker clothing, it was kind of possible for Lucy to fuzz up her vision and see the whites of Nora’s very expressive eyes, piercings, homemade jewelry, and the occasional accessory as lost in the sea of everything else.
Avery let go of Nora’s arm and crashed into both Lucy and Verona, arms out, hugging them. “Heya! I’ve missed you guys.”
You saw us yesterday, you goof, Lucy thought, but she smiled. “Same.”
Wasn’t a lie.
“And this,” Avery said, breaking the hug, moving back to Nora, and hugging-slash-presenting her, “Is Nora. Of course. I’ve mentioned Nora. You’ve even seen Nora, in the background of videos.”
“Just in case Avery’s really fumbling this introduction,” Verona said. “Is your name Nora?”
“Shut up be nice,” Avery said, pushing Verona’s arm, still half-hugging Nora.
“Nice to meet you,” Nora said. “I’ve heard a lot. Good things.”
“Big same. Really, this had to happen, right?” Verona asked. “Can’t just have poor Avery being the middleman?”
“I’m glad I was able to come. I’m also terrified. I have terrible foot-in-mouth syndrome. It’s pretty much a guarantee I say something dumb. Most times I talk to people, feels like. Warning you in advance.”
“You’re looking after our best friend back in Thunder Bay?” Lucy asked.
Nora nodded. “Trying.”
“That gets you a whole lot of benefit of a doubt,” Lucy said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“How terrifying is the Kelly family in its entirety?” Verona asked.
“Don’t call my family terrifying,” Avery protested. “And it’s not the whole family. It could be the extended family too.”
“Can you imagine?” Verona asked Nora.
“It’s a lot as is. No. No I can’t. But it’s nice. They’re so nice. Mostly. Is that a cat?”
“Yep.”
“Avery said you liked cats, but you’re- you’re wearing a cat, casually?”
“She’s wearing me, more like,” Verona said, looking to the side. The cat nuzzled her cheek.
“How was the trip?” Lucy asked. “Traveling in the middle of Christmas day? That wasn’t the original plan.”
“I- we wanted to. It was okay. I got family time. A nice sized dose. My family can be a lot.”
“Like Avery’s is a lot?” Verona asked.
“My family’s not that bad, thank you,” Avery replied. “Excuse you.”
“It’s a bit bad, though,” Verona whispered.
“It’s different. Like, my mom wanted to come. She tried to invite herself.”
“Oh,” Lucy said. “I see.”
“It was a thing,” Nora replied.
“My mom did her social judo,” Avery said. “Played dumb, hinted. Fended her off.”
“Can you imagine?” Nora asked.
“Putting my girlfriend’s mom in the basement, because I don’t think there’s a better place to sleep… her there when we’re doing puzzles. When we’re getting snacks…”
Nora’s eyes had gone wide.
“I mean, your mom’s nice, she cares, obviously. I don’t mean to badmouth her, or-”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Nora said. “She’s crazy. It would’ve been a nightmare. It’s not that. It’s okay.”
“You called her your girlfriend,” Lucy pointed out.
“Oh!” Avery exclaimed. “Oh, I- you are though, I hope?”
Nora nodded with some force.
“-And they know, obviously. That’s a- they know. It’s not a secret. Unless you want to keep acting like it is? To be safe? Or-?”
“It’s okay. It… caught me off guard.”
“Oh well… so long as it’s okay?”
Nora nodded.
“This, guys, is my girlfriend. Saying it clearly. I’m pretty fond of her. She’s excellent,” Avery said, arm around Nora. Nora hugged her from the front, face buried in Avery’s shoulder, making sounds of protest. “She’s actually badass.”
Nora reached up, pushing her hand into Avery’s lower face, muffling the words that followed.
“One of your fingers just went up my nose for a second there,” Avery grunted, scrunching up her face.
“Don’t care,” Nora said.
Avery hugged Nora, pinning her arms at her sides, to avoid the hand and further accidental nostril-poking. “We did the family thing, did the travel thing. Sheridan was mostly good. Rowan was a bit of a butt, but mom shut that down. Dad’s cool, Kerry’s cute. Declan’s a penis. Now we’re free. Finally some quiet. Were we going to do anything?”
“Just a bit later,” Lucy said, pulling out her phone. “You’re on time for it, if disaster doesn’t strike.”
“Don’t even say that,” Avery warned.
“Is Kennet what you expected?” Verona asked.
“I thought- I don’t want to sound bad. Foot-in-mouth syndrome,” Nora said. “I thought it’d be… quieter.”
“Ski town in peak ski season,” Lucy said.
“And that, I dunno, people would be less…” Nora hesitated, glancing at Verona and Lucy.
“What?” Verona asked.
“Cool? Together? Avery was worried there would be nothing going on, and that it’d be boring, and I imagined it being sleepy, empty…”
“Maybe in some other weeks. When the college kids are at college instead of on vacation,” Lucy said.
Nora nodded.
“Avery!”
It was Avery’s mom.
“Oh, crap. I got the money for Killaloe Dough, but I was supposed to wait in line,” Avery said. “You good staying?”
Nora nodded.
Avery ran over to her mom.
They were on the edge of downtown, with a view of the skiing as much as a view of downtown. Killaloe Dough was poised to receive people from the ski hills, downtown, or the cabins, and it smelled amazing, so there was a lineup going practically around the block- insofar as there was a ‘block’. It was pretty literally at the edge of town.
“Avery says you guys helped her out a lot.”
“She helped us.”
“But like… things were lonely, and then you found her?”
“It’s not really a credit to us, though,” Lucy said. “It took too long. We needed someone to go, hey, be friends, work together. We weren’t paying enough attention.”
Nora nodded.
It was interesting to look at this interaction as an insight into what Nora was thinking and feeling when it came to Avery. Given a first chance to ask something relevant, what did she ask about?
This, apparently, and-
“She’s mysterious.”
Lucy and Verona nodded.
That was trickier.
“She’s been getting a lot of phone calls. And emails. Texts. I kind of got the impression she’s been scouted for something for sports?”
“Not sure what to say to that,” Verona said. “I’ve been waiting for more details, but I’m okay letting her share in her own time. I think she’s figuring it out too. Whatever it is.”
Nora frowned.
“I don’t think she’s going anywhere- at least, not to stay. She’s not moving to Toronto or the States or anything,” Lucy said. “Not in the next few years, pretty darn sure.”
“Maybe it could happen though?” Nora asked.
“Her mom’s a bigwig in some clothing company, it feels like they really want her to run this end of the company in this specific place, half her family made a big move because of it, upended things, they’re making it work. They’re not going to move again or cancel that for Avery’s sports. Avery’s good where she is.”
“You think?”
“Pretty darn sure,” Lucy replied.
Nora looked really relieved, hearing that.
“You’re part of why,” Verona said.
“She said that?”
“She didn’t need to. She’s not exactly subtle,” Verona replied.
“She’s mysterious, maybe, maybe all of us are. But she’s not subtle,” Lucy reinforced.
Nora nodded.
Off in the distance, music started playing. Nora’s head turned.
“How’s the band?” Lucy asked.
“Um,” Nora replied, her attention caught by the music. “It’s… terrible?”
“Terrible?”
Nora seemed to stir from the spell she’d been caught by. “Oh, um, that sounds bad. It’s fun. It is. But we’re all learning new things, and there’s so many parts of having a band that need to be sorted out. And I’m-”
The music had picked up in intensity. Avery was on her way back. “Heyy. What’d I miss? What are we talking about?”
“Band,” Lucy supplied.
“There’s some strong personalities on the band-”
“Putnam,” Avery said.
“Not just her. And people used to getting their way.”
“Putnam, again. Because she’s gorgeous and good at wielding that power.”
“Well, yeah,” Nora said, looking flustered. “But also others. And that takes work. And I’m trying to find a voice, but I’m not good at it. We were talking about it in the car.”
“I ran into that,” Avery said. “Being quiet, withdrawn. Then trying to find a voice. And when I did, people would assume I was ten out of ten upset, because it was so uncharacteristic.”
“That’s so hard to imagine,” Nora said. “You being like that.”
“It’s been a weird year. Anyway, you were saying.”
“Yeah, just- similar. But how do you find a good volume level to go to when it’s chaos? Total chaos?”
“Putnam chaos,” Avery said.
“That’s a big part of it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s fun,” Nora said. Her head turned. “Is that- Wodenchapel?”
Lucy smiled. “Yeah.”
“Is it their music or is it- it’s not actually them?”
“It’s their music,” Lucy said. “A cover band. A good one.”
The music was playing across downtown. Spotlights had gone on, and shafts of light stabbed into the sky, illuminating snowflakes and the fog in the air.
“Want to see?” Lucy asked.
Nora nodded.
“I’ll let my mom know where we’re going,” Avery said. “I’ll catch up.”
Verona, Julette, Nora, and Lucy all went over to where the music was coming from.
A group from Kennet Found were on a rooftop. They’d set up their equipment. They had help with the lighting. Now, as the music played, an impromptu concert, the crowd was starting to migrate over.
It was a Bavarian prog rock song, an intense kind of mellow, with woodwind instruments. It made Lucy think of the nutcracker, or maybe of elves at the North Pole having an adventure.
A group of foundlings on the rooftop were playing. Wearing their masks.
“I like this group,” Nora said. “It’s in my studying playlist.”
“I know,” Lucy said.
Nora looked at her, surprised. “You-?”
“It was a collaborative thing,” Lucy said. She glanced at Avery as Avery caught up with them again. “She wanted you to know what her hometown had to offer. I asked, she passed some of your music recommendations along.”
“You were mailing them out to the band anyway,” Avery said.
“The theme, or the instructions were to make it feel Christmassy without playing the boring old Christmas songs,” Lucy said. “We’ll see how that goes. We gave them some songs to throw in there, that felt like they had the right vibe.”
“You helped with this?”
“We all did,” Lucy said. “Have you played the game?”
“Game?”
“Wodenchapel, they had a game that was made around their album. Horror. My boyfriend showed me.”
“I had no idea. I want to see it.”
“I’ll see if I can get my hands on it to show you before you go.”
Nora smiled. She looked like she had more questions, but the music was picking up in intensity and volume. She closed her eyes, getting into the flow of it.
Avery, standing behind Nora, hugged her from behind, absorbing that flow and vibe through Nora as much as she seemed to enjoy it herself.
“They’re together? In public?”
Lucy’s head turned.
Rowan. With Avery’s mom. They’d gotten some Killaloe Dough. Fast.
“It’s okay. They’re with friends. She’s safe.”
Avery’s mom sounded confident enough.
Made it harder to leave, but Lucy had others to check in with. And coordinating to do.
She’d cheated the system to get the permission for the concert. And for stalls. Some were already setting up.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
She went, stopping at a few of the stalls on the way. Innocent-friendly goods. But unique things all the same.
She saw the St. Victor’s practitioners. Kira-Lynn, Stefan, Adrian, and Nomi.
Nomi had changed her mind, apparently.
They watched her as she approached.
“You arranged this?” Kira-Lynn asked.
“Yeah. In part. Others helped. Got the permission, tweaked things. Organized groups.”
“Is it the one band?” Stefan asked.
Lucy started to reply, but the music was dying down. There was light applause.
She turned, looking-
Spotlights flashed red. The idea had been to have Christmas colors, but there was a lot more red being used for the one group than red plus green.
“Santa got poked by his favorite reindeer!” the singer sang, over the sound of the opening electric guitar.
Kennet below, representing. She hadn’t vetted the songs, but this was leading her to wonder if she should.
“Someone’s nose was bright red that night!”
“Why?” Nomi asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do this? What’s the ploy?”
“No ploy,” Lucy replied. “Just… reminding us all what we work for, when we’re helping Kennet.”
The first people in the crowd were showing interest in the opening market stalls. Other vendors were setting up, a bit late. They’d been on standby, waiting, and maybe had only started to come over and navigate the crowd when the first song played.
The song continued, really riding the line between the corny Christmas joke songs that played from the tacky singing Christmas cards and ornaments, and something actually offensive.
Oh well. It was fun, and interesting.
“Do we need to worry?” Lucy asked. “About another alien priest boss monster?”
“How did you know who all of us were?” Kira-Lynn asked.
“Not answering my question?”
“Not answering mine?” Kira-Lynn retorted.
“Magic,” Lucy replied. “Spying. Didn’t leave when you all grouped up together at the school.’
“We shouldn’t have,” Kira-Lynn told Nomi. “Should’ve kept playing dumb.”
“Do you really have to do anything?” Lucy asked. “This feels forced. Like… isn’t this good enough? Market, and music, and a thriving Kennet?”
“When you’re done…” Nomi said, before turning to Lucy. “…Will there still be Forsworn?”
“There are ways to mitigate it. We’ve been doing contracts with clear outs.”
“But will there still be Forsworn?” Nomi pressed.
“Yeah, probably. Unfortunately.”
“Then it’s not enough. This is a distraction. A waste. The stories I’ve heard-?”
“I’ve heard stories too,” Lucy replied. “But if you think you’re going to change something that established…?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know whether to say good luck, or to say it’s crazy. Something that established? You might as well try to solve world hunger or stop all domestic abuse.”
“So we shouldn’t try?” Kira-Lynn asked.
“Not at all what I’m saying. Absolutely we can try to make an impact. But if trying means we get more technomancy monsters rampaging around-”
“That was a mistake.”
“Okay, but… I’d be worried the goal is out of reach, and if you’re risking more mistakes while you’re straining to reach something that’s impossible to get to? Doesn’t that hurt more in the end?”
“Maybe it’s not impossible,” Nomi said. “People would’ve said a Forsworn becoming a higher power was impossible, wouldn’t they? Maybe he can do it.”
“But again, is the risk worth it? Is he going to achieve anything? I feel like we were on the right track, we were making an impact, steady and sure, and he was so focused on getting something bigger and more immediate that…”
Lucy traced fingers down the front of her coat.
“…we lost people. We’re still hurting from that loss.”
The red-tinted spotlights lights flashed, consuming a good chunk of downtown, bits of green spotlight here and there, the drummer doing an intense solo, while the singer screamed “Santaaaaaaaa!” in a death metal voice.
Nora, further down the road, whooped.
She liked that part, Lucy supposed.
“Truce holds?” Lucy asked. They hadn’t responded to her last comment, about losses.
“That’s the deal,” Nomi said, about as noncommittal as she could get away with.
Lucy didn’t want to push things, so she left it.
She found her family. The Kennet Others would be tonight. For now- she’d asked Booker to stay. She wanted to get to get to him before the third song played.
It was a high school band. They weren’t the best. But they were covering a song by Lucy’s request.
Booker, just noticing Lucy, got a quizzical look on his face.
“From the music box,” Lucy told him, as she reached him, hugging him. “The subscription. Box one. The one you showed me.”
“You did this?” he asked.
Such similar questions to Nora.
“Yeah. Bunch of projects.”
“Some friends of mine were talking about a haunted arcade? Got shut down by cops? This is-?”
“Similar people working on it. But yeah,” Lucy replied.
“I had no idea.”
“Well, I’m glad you stayed,” she told him. She settled into place, between him and her mom. Booker was cuddling Alyssa. “Glad you stayed and got to see.”
“I’m glad we stayed too,” Alyssa said, flashing a smile.
The stalls were organizing, Kennet’s art on display, alongside its music. Foundlings in Christmas-ish masks bustled, as did those of Kennet below.
As the night went on, they’d transition. More magic items. More wild stuff. They’d filter people out using tools they’d developed. She’d break away from family, Avery would slip away from Nora, and they’d meet the Others, exchange more magical gifts and presents.
She had hers for the Dog Tags. She worried it wouldn’t be okay. There was even an interpretation of her gift to them that would see them asking for the coat back, if the coat was meant to symbolize her inclusion.
Hopefully it would be a good night. It would definitely be intense to coordinate.
Her mom’s hand rubbed her shoulder, then moved, rubbing where neck and shoulder met.
“You’re so stiff,” her mom murmured.
Lucy shrugged, squeezing her mom’s hand lightly between neck and shoulder in the process.
She was, though. Waiting. Ready for the other shoe to drop. Ready for the interruption, the asshole who’d ruin it all.
The third song in the concert finished, white and blue tinted spotlights kicked on at the foundling rooftop, and a group of some of the same foundlings as before, some new ones, playing something upbeat and whimsical.
“I’ll try and be back,” she told her family. “Gotta tell Nora… if she wants to try playing, there’s an empty drumset and a band the set after this one.”
Edith had called her a pessimist. If Charles was the dark optimist, taking the most twisted interpretation of ‘everyone is good or great deep down inside’, she was the bright pessimist or something. People- especially in the plural, could really suck ass. But given a chance and enough work, they could be cool enough that it was all worth it.
Except yeah, she had to work to create these moments like the Dog Tags had talked about. The good ones. The ones where the rewards had been reaped and could be enjoyed.
“Nora,” she said.
“Hey,” Nora greeted her. There wasn’t enough space between her and Avery for a single air spirit to pass through, as they stood together, heads raised, looking at the music playing on alternating rooftops.
“Set after this one, over on that roof? No pressure if you don’t want to? But Avery mentioned the songs you know and play-”
Avery’s eyes widened. She hadn’t know this was part of the plan.
“If you want to try playing?” Lucy suggested.
“Are you kidding?” Nora asked.
Lucy shook her head. “Band’s there. Drumset’s ready, with an alternate on standby if you say no. It’s on the roof, not a lot of people would be watching you directly. Mostly we’re just giving all the local bands and musicians a chance to strut their stuff tonight.”
“No pressure,” Verona added.
“I’m- how long do I have?”
“Thirteen minutes, I think. Bit less.”
After her usual lack of confidence and anxiety, it was a bit startling to see her this gung-ho to go and do something like that. Avery flashed a smile, before following Nora.
Lucy glanced around. This was working. She’d gone down the line, asking key people. Mia was popular enough to know other popular people at school. Others knew others. She’d put the word out and let that handle itself. She’d already won over people like Brayden Black’s dad, and he’d put word out to the council, when she’d asked last night.
They probably hadn’t expected what she was doing here to be quite as involved as it was. But the fact they’d had sales of things at the Nightmare Market as a kind of improvised thing and it had gone so well was a point in her favor, so that had helped move things along, with getting permission for the stalls.
Besides, a lot of the people who’d complain were enjoying their holidays.
She kept an eye out for police who hadn’t gotten the memo. For St. Victor’s practitioners who might be pulling something different. For goblins. For any other Others who might’ve popped in.
She’d settled into her pattern. For the Dog Tags, it was built in. For her, it was learned through too much trial and error.
Hurry up and wait… or go on the offensive. Pick one.
She tried her best to shake herself free of that mindset. In the end, she wasn’t sure she’d succeeded so much as muddled the issue in her head.
Avery looked over the moon, standing on the street while Nora got sorted on the rooftop, talking to the band. Lucy could catch snippets, and it sounded like they were coordinating. Booker and her mom were pleased. Alyssa wasn’t too upset about staying. Verona had found her mom, and was there with her cat.
And Lucy was tense, ready to protect all of that, if she had to.
More than anything, more than rest or her own peace and casual happiness, she needed one. One moment, one night like this.
The new year meant facing the Carmine Exile. Tonight, even if she was too worried to indulge in the good parts herself, it would be something she remembered as she fought.
The fifth set finished- a much less borderline-raunchy piece from Kennet below. The start of Nora’s set was marked with the shifting spotlights.
And then the opening drums, making it immediately clear that Nora was entirely at home there, in the winter cold, behind a set of unfamiliar drums. The electric guitars followed, one a little shakier than the other, an amateur hand.
Still good. Still just what tonight needed to be. Every performance didn’t need to be five stars. But Kennet got to show what it had to offer. To Booker, who hadn’t seen enough of this sort of thing, and had seen a few too many Hughs and stuck-arounds of Kennet above. To Verona’s mom, who’d wondered what Verona was up to. To Lucy’s own mom, who stressed about things. To Nora. For Avery, so she could have one stellar date night.
The Others were around. The more human ones at the edge of the crowd. The Dog Tags were there, helping to stand guard. The goblins were there too, hidden, interested. She’d meet them shortly. They’d exchange gifts and talk. Some of the talk would have to be strategy. They had to stop enjoying the holidays and segue into that soon.
Less than a week now. If they won against Charles, somehow, then it would be the thing Lucy was trying for, as she put in the effort. So they could have more nights like tonight.
If they lost, it would be a last hurrah.
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