Emerald City Dreamer (35 page)

Ezra put aside his own worries that he was crazy, when he had this guy to compare himself to.

They passed a black box of a building, with the letters "NEUMOS" in lights in the corner windows. Loud music spilled out and a line of people waited to get in. Ezra took in a great big breath of it, felt the energy like he'd felt in the woods and around the city. He could use it later as more glue to hold the stones of his cathedral together. Then he coughed as he passed a group of smokers.

"
See what I mean," Pogswoth grumbled. "Stealing, just like that."

"
Are you going to say I stole their smoke?"

"
No, of course not. That would be silly. You can't steal smoke."

Ezra just shook his head.

Pogswoth poked at his shoulder. "You're confused because you can't share. Were you locked in a closet through kindergarten?"

Ezra didn't answer. He couldn't remember.

Pogswoth spread his hand around the expanse. "This here is my 'hood. You've got your tattoo place, the yoga studio with barred up windows, a dozen dives next to a dozen upscale restaurants, a goth club, sunken parking lots, all my favorite music venues, and a Ferrari dealer on the corner. Truly a 'mixed use' neighborhood. And if you can tell the difference between Pike and Pine streets, you win a prize."

"
It's an okay place. Just where are you going?"

"
To my house. We're here already."

They walked in front of an abandoned building painted blood red with high windows and spots of graffiti. Pogswoth stopped in front of a monochrome spray paint cartoon face with rounded teeth and droopy eyes. He cautiously looked up and down the street before peeling back the spray paint. A few moths escaped the narrow passage.

"
This way," he said, motioning.

Ezra huddled to squeeze into a small, candle-lit room. It was decorated with cardboard furniture and newspaper, with LP-record-covers serving as pictures on the brick wall. Some kind of 60s music played on a record player in the corner next to an upended shopping cart which, covered with stained couch cushions, served as a sofa. Water boiled in five eggshells perched over the candles.

Those bricks might look good in his cathedral, if only they weren't stuck in the wall.

"
Have a seat," Pogswoth said. He checked the eggshells. "Soup's done," he said. He handed Ezra one. "Watch out, it's hot."

Ezra perched haphazardly on the shopping cart and politely took the shell. He wondered what he'd gotten himself into. When he tasted the water, the flavor of thick, savory meat and vegetables hit his tongue. It was the best stew he'd ever had.

"
Wow."

Pogswoth chuckled. "I learned that trick from a woman who thought I might be a changeling instead of her own baby. When she boiled those eggshells, sure enough, I jumped up and declared I hadn't seen such a thing in all my hundred-year-life. That was a long time ago. Have more if you want. You won't be hungry for days. Plus keeps the lice away."

Ezra stared into the second shellfull, thinking that one should be enough, when he heard a muffled cry from behind a pile of clothes. It sounded like it came from the other side of the wall.

"
Never mind that, my friend," Pogswoth said. "Just a sick cat I'm tending. Now drink up while I explain to you why you riled up most of downtown." He propped his foot on top of the clothes pile.

"
Building monasteries takes energy," he explained. "And I don't mean stone-lifting with yer muscles. It takes plenty of toradh, too, for that much glamour."

"
Toradh?"

"
Like what was spilling out of Neumo's. It's in limited supply, and you've gone and eaten it all up. Makes yer neighbors angry."

"
I didn't know-"

"
Shut it. You know now. It's a share and share alike world. You only take what you need unless you want to answer to the rest of us like yer doing now. If you don't attract unwanted attention from the locals, you can get away with just about whatever."

The sound came from behind the clothes pile again. Ezra stared at it.

Pogswoth followed his eyes. "See, even kitty's sick because of your gluttony, son."

Ezra frowned and gently set down his eggshell. "I'm sorry; I guess I... have a lot to learn." He fingered his bracelet. There went any hopes of building a cathedral. Maybe there was something he could trade for this... toradh stuff.

"
That's the problem, son. Who's going to bother teaching the likes of you?"

"
I thought maybe you would. Isn't that why you brought me here?"

Pogswoth snorted. "That would almost be funny if it weren't pathetic. Only reason I paid any attention to you is so you'd quit building that senseless waste of time abbey nonsense and starving the rest of us out."

Ezra lowered his head and stared at his bracelet. No one wanted him. Now it seemed he couldn't even live on his own. Jett's ruby caught his eye, and he remembered. Maybe now would be a good time to talk to her. She'd promised to teach him.

"
If you won't, I know someone else who will teach me," Ezra mused.

Pogswoth leaned forward and put his boots on the ground. "Who is it then? Who would help the likes of you?"

"
Her name is Jett, with beautiful black hair-"

"
Oh... her." Pogswoth leaned back again and folded his arms.

"
What's wrong with her?"

"
She's medieval, that one. Thinks she can just boss everyone around. And most buy it, too, bowing and scraping. They all forget what century it is, and that they can all be free of tyrants like her."

It seemed to Ezra that lots of people these days thought they could boss people around, this Pogswoth included. Although maybe it was different since he was protecting everyone else's toradh stuff.

"
She offered to protect me, feed me."

"
I protected you, I fed you. Go to her then, if yer deadset on being her thrall. Unless..." He held the word for a long time.

"
Unless what?" Ezra asked.

"
Unless you're a religious fellow... You're not religious are you?"

"
Of course I am. I was building a cathedral, wasn't I?"

"
Hurmph," Pogswoth said, looking up at him from under his bushy brow. "Then she's right out. She's a wicked witch, that one. Worships Satan three times a day, and boils lost souls in a cauldron. You wouldn't last the week before she'd stick you in a cage and make you poke yer finger out to check it for fatness."

Ezra winced.

"
Good thing you didn't accept her help when she offered. You'd already be burning in the underfires of hell."

The color drained from Ezra's face.

"
Don't worry too much about it, son. Just stop making things bad for everyone else and you'll be all right on yer own." Pogswoth scratched at his temple. "Like me."

"
Can't I... Can't I build my cathedral using something else?"

"
You could use money. Get a piece of real land and a respectable set of blueprints, hire a few hundred construction workers."

"
I don't have any money." Ezra never had any money but for the forty bucks Jett had given him.

"
Then tear it down. It's an eyesore. You do this for me, and I'll owe you a gift. Tit for tat, writ for rat. Might come in handy someday if you need more eggshell stew."

"
But I'm not good at anything else."

"
Sure you are. Here's yer gift early, just to prove I'm an honest fellow. I'll tell you what yer good at - convincing."

"
You mean... I'm good at being convinced?"

"
That too... No, son, when you decide you want people to do things yer way, I'll wager my best eggshell they listen."

Ezra shook his head. "I don't think anyone listens to me."

"
Well that's my gift, so like it or not, now yer obligated."

There was a thumping sound and the muffled voice came again, louder this time. It sounded like it was saying something...

Ezra stood and made a move for the pile of clothes. Suddenly Pogswoth's foot thumped against his chest and Ezra found himself sitting on his bruised butt in the middle of the street.

For a while, things had gone well when he did what felt right. Building the cathedral felt right, but in the end, it was all wrong.

He stared at the ruby on his bracelet for a long moment. Pogswoth seemed... confused. Ezra couldn't tell what was up or down with him. Calling Jett felt like the right thing, but what if that was all wrong too, and Pogswoth's warning was true?

A car swerved past him, honking. He stood, remembering only his lovely cathedral and the amazing beauty it would have been. If only...

He slowly walked back to the pillar park and stared at his foundation for a long, sad time. The angry eyes lurking in the shadows dared him to pile on one more stone.

So he untied the thing that held them together, and they slid into an anonymous jumble of rocks.

"
WELCOME TO THE SURVIVORS of Faerie Trauma group."

Jina couldn't believe it had only been two weeks already since the last meeting. She glanced around at the usual cast of characters. Gretel sat beside her. Then Kimberly and Tom obviously, Myrtle - or was it Maud? - and Cameron. Trey had graduated to the second level, so she wouldn't see him till Tuesday.

Cameron. Last meeting Jina had been thinking about the woman's poltergeist, wondering if it was faerienormal activity, and planning to ask Sandy if they should investigate. Jina had been so distracted lately...

They should help Cameron. Why couldn't they just hang out a sign, go public as paranormal investigators? There were so many weirdoes in Seattle that they'd blend right in. It wasn't like the fae would join forces and attack them. If the Ordo had done that in the first place, Jett would have known everything from the outset, before everything became so complicated.

Jina sighed. No new faces today. That made sense. It was a nice spring Friday, so she expected attendance to be down. It was the kind of day when Seattleites left work early in the hopes of spending the afternoon in the sun, only to get caught light-blinded in traffic along with a hundred-thousand other people who had the same idea. They'd sit squinting against the glare in idle cars and arrive home at the same time as if they hadn't left early. Then they'd head out of town, or go to the park, or do just about anything other than go to a meeting. As a Seattle tradition, it would happen every time the sun came out.

She thought of Ezra again. They were meeting to plan the "extraction" tonight. Jett would know so much more about a stray troll than Sandy, Gretel, and Hollis put together. They sure could use her help.

Jina imagined a world where Sandy and Jett were friends. Jett would show up at their house for tea, to talk shop, and they would all visit Jett's place to watch movies on Friday nights.

That was too much to hope for. Might as well wish for world peace.

But it dawned on her. There were some things she could tell Jett without betraying Sandy. That she knew Jett was fae. About Jina's past. About Haun.

God, it would feel so good to finally be able to share that with a lover. To come clean.

Jina relaxed. She always knew a good decision when she felt this way, this simple release of pressure. Yes, right after this meeting, she'd head over to Jett's place. She wiggled in her seat, hardly able to sit still.

"
Let's start a little early," Jina said.

The door slowly opened, and someone nervously looked in.

"
Hi, is this the-"

Jina suddenly sat up straight. "Ramon? What are you doing here?"

"
What... Oh, hi Jina. Weird bumping into you here. I must have the wrong room. I'm looking for Survivors of Faerie Trauma."

Her serenity shattered. Why would Ramon need trauma support? Was he... Was Jett...?

What is she doing to him?

Jett had promised her, had sworn that she... What had she sworn? She hadn't exactly sworn to never hurt Jina. Only that she had only good intentions. Maybe the intentions were good, but things were bad for Ramon anyway. Or maybe she'd never had such good intentions with him.

She wouldn't know unless Ramon chose to talk in this meeting. She made sure her voice was steady and friendly before speaking. "Ramon, come on in. You're in the right place."