“You are insane. There is no such thing as Pixies or Faeries or ghosties and ghoulies.”
The dirt floor beneath her began to vibrate. A persistent rumble built and rattled the shed.
A look of pure terror crossed Hay’s face, turning his clean features into a twisted mask.
“What’s the matter? Why does a train scare you so badly?” She knew where she was now. South of town above the falls in the abandoned lumber mill. The train tracks ran right beside it, with a spur backing into the main yard. Lots of odd little buildings falling in on themselves.
“All the iron.” He shuddered. “Iron burns us, robs us of our magic, makes us sick, twisted, and insane.”
The rumbling faded along with the shaking of the shed walls. Hay relaxed and pulled a fat roll of duct tape out of his inside jacket pocket.
How did he look so cool and calm in the rising heat and humidity? Everyone else went about in as few layers of clothing as possible, sweating profusely. Dark stains around the underarms and along the back had become so normal that few people noticed them anymore. He didn’t even have a gloss of perspiration on his face.
“If you are a Pixie, how’d you become so proficient with computers? I didn’t think imaginary creatures needed electronics.”
“Most Pixies and Faeries don’t. That’s why so many of us die young these days. The electronics. But Pixies must befriend those who need friends. It’s an instinct with us. And I have special powers.”
“No one ever befriended me when I needed one,” she grunted.
“By all accounts, Thistle tried. All you did was trap her in a jar with a wolf spider. Like I said, you never had the imagination to appreciate an offer of friendship.”
Phelma Jo snorted again. She remembered the incident. “It was just a dragonfly. And Dick Carrick spoiled my game. I was pretending the fly was my mother and the spider her abusive boyfriend.”
All the pain of those years came flooding back. Phelma Jo felt as helpless now, subject to the control of a man, as she did then.
“I’m stronger than that child. I will get out of this, just as I got out from under my mother’s curse. Her boyfriend is still in jail on a thirty-year sentence.” Her anger shot new adrenaline through her system. A little bit of mobility came back to her arms and knees.
“Oh, poor PJ.” Hay gave her a false pout.
She struggled and rolled again, loosening the bonds a tad more. In another minute she’d be able to jump up and punch him in the family jewels. That should incapacitate him long enough to get away.
“As I was saying, the boys I befriended were all gamers. They learned early on that hacking into another computer system to steal things was just another game. I showed them how to send themselves inside a computer game. They became addicted to the high of explosions. I strengthened their addiction with mushrooms.” He laughed and began unrolling the tape.
She fought to move her knees. Anything to get away from this madman.
Her left leg jerked up.
He caught her foot and pushed it higher, throwing her balance backward. “Oh, my, I do enjoy a feisty female. Later, dear. We’ll take a nice little flight together later.”
Then he used his free hand to expertly wrap the fibrous tape around and around her ankles.
“Anything you want to say before I close your mouth?”
She spat at him; a big gob of saliva splatted against his right eye.
“Too bad that’s all you can muster for the moment.” He slapped a long length of tape across her mouth and around her head, pulling and tangling her hair in its stickiness.
Thirty-four
THISTLE WATCHED DUSTY CAREFULLY after dinner. Her friend sat listlessly in the bay window, playing her music box over and over. It had returned to its normal tune. No Pixie magic or Pixie music left in it. The ballerina spun around and around, winding down slowly until the music ground ponderously through its last notes.
Dusty sat silently for a bit, letting tears slide down her cheeks. Then she turned the music box key and repeated the process.
The tinny notes irritated Thistle’s ears and disrupted her sense of life tuned to the music of wind and rain, and plants talking to bugs, and bugs whispering the news to trees.
Finally, after Dick had gone off to the bar to meet Chase, Thistle yanked the music box out of Dusty’s hands before the music completely stopped.
“You’ve had enough,” Thistle insisted.
“Give that back! I can’t lose it again. I can’t…”
“Then come and get it.” Thistle held the box high over her head.
Dusty turned her head away, staring out the window.
“You’ve been listless and boring all day.” Thistle curled up in the window seat facing Dusty. She stroked the soft covering the way humans petted cats.
“I… can’t talk about it.” Dusty reached for the music box again.
Thistle held it behind her back, out of Dusty’s reach.
“Tell me why you sit here hour after hour crying over this music box. I thought you’d shed all your tears over it when Chase fixed it.”
At the sound of Chase’s name, Dusty turned her face toward the window again.
Thistle saw a new spate of tears in the reflection.
“You and Chase had a fight. I saw it from the window.”
“Worse.”
“Worse? What could be worse than a fight?”
“A fight you can make up. He gave up on me just when I thought I’d grown enough to appreciate how much I love him. How I’ve loved him since we were small children. How I loved him even though he broke my music box. But then he fixed it for me and I thought we had a chance.”
“But you ruined it because Hay had bedazzled you and Joe offered you safe haven.”
“How… how did you know?”
“Because I’ve watched you for many, many years. Because I was your friend even when you were sick and no one came to visit you but me. Even when you let your cancer define who you were. Because I’m still your friend.”
“I don’t think even you can fix this.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll have to do most of it yourself, though. Now tell me exactly what Chase said yesterday.”
“You aren’t going to try to talk me out of loving him? I might be better off with Joe because you love his daughters and because Chase was ungentle with you when he arrested you the day you landed in the fountain.”
“Well… Chase is still not my favorite person. But he’s learning to appreciate Pixies. Joe hasn’t. His daughters are wonderful friends, and they need me right now. But you need Chase. He’s the one you love. And if that’s what’s right for you, I have to be your friend and help you get him back. Not that I think he’s gone far, you understand. But he’s going to need a little prodding to get over his blue funk.”
“He… he said that friendship and trust are a two-way street. I have to prove to those who love me that I can be trusted and that I take seriously the responsibility of friendship.”
“You see, he loves you. He said so himself. I don’t think I even need any magic to push him back on the right path. You can do that all by yourself. All you have to do is…”
“Oh, Thistle, you are the best friend ever!” Dusty nearly fell off the window seat as she threw her arms around Thistle and hugged her tight.
The phone rang. Shrill and insistent.
“I’d better get that. There are a million details to settle before tomorrow night.”
Dusty grew very still the moment she answered the phone. “Hello, Ted. My mother told me to expect your call.”
Thistle squirmed. Another barrier between Dusty and Chase-her mother’s interfering pity dates. What could she do to stop this?