Matchbox Girls (11 page)

“Doing as you will creates a bigger burden on the conscience than doing as you’re told.” At Marley’s questioning look, Branwyn sighed and continued. “People want a higher power to blame, so they don’t have to be held accountable for their own actions and decisions. The strength and authority comes from outside them. Magic, of the wizardly variety, represents personal responsibility. So that’s the fantasy.” Branwyn’s mouth twisted in disgust. “It’s the same reason big corporations are so popular.”

“But you don’t believe in magic
or
religion,” Marley pointed out.

Branwyn took a bite of her veggie burger, chewed it, and swallowed. “Or big corporations. That’s because I don’t need a metaphor to help me take responsibility. I believe in me.”

“It isn’t just because religions encourage the faithful not to believe in magic?”

“Personal responsibility. But while we’re on the subject... Penny called me this afternoon. I went to see her after work. She’d been crying.”

Marley lowered her gaze. “What was wrong?”

“Well, apparently you told her that her new boyfriend was using her to get to the kids, for one.” Branwyn paused for a moment and then went on.

“And thinking over her date last night makes her wonder if it was true. She said it was ‘too perfect.’ Actually, she said it was ‘more perfect than she deserved,’ but this is Penny, so I ignored the latter bit.” She frowned. “But he called while I was there, and she... transformed. Talking to him made her happy like I’ve never seen before. It was strange.”

Marley chewed on her lip again. “What was she like, after?”

“Happy and confused. She said Jeremy told her she had a higher purpose in his organization, which she laughed at, but... I could tell she really liked the idea.” Branwyn scowled. “I think Lawyer Jeremy’s pulling Penny into a cult.”

Marley eyed her friend and thought of a group of happy, well-dressed young people. “I could believe that. What did you say to her?”

Branwyn looked irritated. “Nothing. That sort of accusation makes me sound like an overprotective mother. But I’d love to prove to her that the bastard is just using her.”

“Break her heart for her own good, you mean.” Marley shook her head. “I’d rather he just... went away.”

“Me too!” chirped Lissa, who was listening intently.

Marley gave her a look. “You go play with your sister.”

“She’s listening too! Right, Kari?”

Kari, dangling a makeshift fishing pole before Neath, said, “Right! Fairy lawyers!”

Marley rolled her eyes and dug out a pair of picture books from her hastily packed luggage. When she’d settled the twins on the other side of the room with Lissa reading aloud to Kari, she returned to Branwyn.

“Did you see that guy outside? Dark hair, loitering outside the building?”

Branwyn perked up. “I did. Is he one of the bad guys?”

Marley made a face. “You’re as bad as the kids. And I don’t know. He says he isn’t. I’m not afraid of him like I should be, either. And I keep wondering if it’s... I dunno, Stockholm syndrome or something. Because there’s no reason not to be afraid of him. Just because he says he’s on my side doesn’t mean anything.”

Branwyn eyed her. “Yeah. About that. What’s going on?”

Marley launched into the abridged explanation. “My theory is that Zachariah has some information that a ‘business rival’ wants, and his gang is trying to kidnap the kids to give them some leverage over him. And I think the authorities are compromised in the whole deal, so I can’t go to them.”

Branwyn’s expression was very dubious. “And the gunmen who just ‘went away’?”

“Oh! There were other people around. Including this girl with three really big, aggressive dogs. I think they got spooked into shooting before they were ready, and then ran. Everybody could see their faces and everything.” Even as she spoke, Marley felt a pang of guilt, and she busied herself cleaning up the remains of dinner. Branwyn didn’t want to hear about flashes of wings and light—that much was clear from their earlier conversation. And for all Marley knew, she was telling the truth. Maybe the flash of light had been a hallucination brought on by shock. Not talking about it until she understood it better was the responsible solution.

She heard Branwyn stand up, and then suddenly the taller woman was hauling her up by her injured arm. “Hey, ow, what are you doing?” Marley demanded. When Branwyn ripped the bandages off, it didn’t hurt as much as Marley feared because they hadn’t adhered completely to the scab over the half-healed wound.

Branwyn ran her hand over it. “What the hell is this? Come on.” She tugged Marley over to the big sink. “Soak your arm here and we’ll clean that up.” She started the sink filling. Then, conversationally, she said, “My friend Stephen got shot once. In the leg. It took a chunk out. I saw it the next day. After a doctor had stitched it up, sure, but it still looked raw.” She shot Marley a look, her green eyes blazing.

Marley remembered Kari touching her arm, patches of static swirling around her fingers, saying happily,
I fixed it!
“I have no idea what happened. Maybe it wasn’t actually a bullet. I really don’t know, Branwyn! Don’t look at me like that.”

Branwyn pushed her arm into the water, pulling it down until it was submerged to the shoulder. “You know something. You’re too honest.”

“I don’t
know
anything, when it comes to that.”

“And too philosophical, too. That guy outside? You’re not afraid of him and he says he’s trying to help you? Maybe it’s actually true. Not everybody has a hidden motive.”

“The other people following me around do. Lawyer Jeremy does. They haven’t presented me with an affidavit of their intentions. They just shot at me, Branwyn. And I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”

Branwyn gently rubbed at the crud around the main scab. “Well, something certainly happened to you. That’s going to be some scar.”

Marley craned her neck to see the injury. Washed clean of all the extra dried blood, her arm still had a dime-sized dent in it, covered with a moist, half-healed scab. She raised her eyes to meet Branwyn’s gaze. The blaze of emotion had faded, at least a little. Softly, Branwyn said, “I keep wondering if I missed seeing this injury over the last week or two. But I’m sure I didn’t. I wish you trusted yourself enough to tell me what you’re not saying.”

Awkwardly, Marley shrugged. “I’ve told you what I’m pretty sure of, and what I’ve speculated. That’s what’s important.”

Branwyn’s face closed up, and she released Marley’s arm. “Yeah. But it’s not everything. I’m used to deciding 'important' for myself. And since you're asking me to stay away from my home because of this...” She shrugged, and put a new bandage on Marley's arm. “You haven't been this reserved since we were kids and you were upset about your brother.”

“I haven't felt this crazy since then, either,” Marley muttered. It just slipped out. She looked up at Branwyn, but Branwyn was walking away, over to the kids. With a cheery voice, she invited them to play with her art supplies, her back to Marley.

* * *

Branwyn hauled out a dusty old sleeping bag from the depths of her car, and claimed the floor, leaving Marley and the twins to dogpile on the couch again.

As Marley snuggled the twins down into the couch, Kari said, “We know about fairies! Uncle Zach told us.”

“Did he?” asked Marley, wondering if she’d be able to sleep tonight.

“Uncle Zach said that all fairies are lawyers. Can’t trust ’em!”

“But they like gifts. And they keep their promises, basically,” added Lissa.

“And they live backwards. I guess that’s why you wear your shirt inside out?” Kari said.

“No, Uncle Zach said that was just a useless superpower,” corrected Lissa.

Kari hugged her doll. “And they wear leashes. Because otherwise they’re naughty.”

“They loovvvvve games. And they’re basically imps.”

“You’re imps,” laughed Marley. “Close your eyes now.”

They both closed their eyes, but Kari’s popped back open. “Marley? Why did those people want to hurt us? Why did they hurt you?”

Marley’s smile faded. “I don’t know. I think it’s because...” and she paused, her mind racing as she searched for something appropriate to say.

“Sometimes people get confused and scared by things they don’t understand. And they want to make the confusion and scariness go away, by making the thing they don’t understand go away. I think maybe those people didn’t understand why we were running toward them and they wanted us to go away.” She was aware of Lissa listening so hard her ears seemed to have grown, even though her eyes were still closed. “But they chose the wrong way to do it.”

“So it was an accident?” asked Kari.

“Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay,” said Kari, and turned over. But Marley thought Lissa stayed awake for much longer.

The temperature that night was almost reasonable, although there was a red tint to the light pollution that made the night that much less comfortable to sleep in. “Just pretend it’s the world’s biggest campfire,” suggested Branwyn, before she put her headphones on.

Marley expected that she’d have trouble sleeping, but the gentle breathing of the twins, and Neath’s contented purring near her head, knocked her out before she had time to worry about it.

And once again, she was in the dream room.

Tinker Chime the fairy fashion doll was waiting for her. “Just passing through again?” he said acidly. His arms were crossed and his tiny foot tapped on the air. “Don’t mind me, I have all aeon. It’s not as if captivity can crush my people’s spirit any more.”

Happiness tickled Marley like champagne bubbles in her soul, but she resisted it. “You again? Where’s my cat?” She felt around under the bed and encountered a paw. Even in her
dream
, Neath was tuckered out.

“Why are you so
unfriendly
?” complained the fairy. “Most people would be delighted with an encounter like this.”

“I don’t believe in fairies,” said Marley, flatly.

“Oh! Ow!” Chime pressed his hand to his chest and drifted to the ground. “A mortal wound!” He landed on the carpet, one arm flung dramatically over his head. One eye opened, then the other. “Just kidding.”

There was an angry yowl under the bed, and Neath slunk out. Chime leapt into the air again. “You woke the beast!”

Marley swatted at him. “Good! Maybe she can make you go away!”

“That would be the wrong choice,” said the fairy, and his voice was so serious that Marley remembered her own words to the twins, back in the waking world.

“I don’t care,” she said defiantly. “I don’t need this bullshit invading my
dreams
as well as my real life. I should be able to get a good night’s sleep. I
deserve
a good night’s sleep.”

“You
are
asleep,” pointed out Chime. “That’s the magic of dreams. And this isn’t bullshit. It’s very important! The fate of my people rests on your action and goodwill!”

“It’s
totally
bullshit! The world is supposed to make sense. People aren’t supposed to disappear into thin air. Wounds aren’t supposed to be healed by the touch of a little girl. And crazy people aren’t supposed to shoot at small children!”

“Why not?” The fairy flew closer to her face.

Marley glared. “Because.” She picked up Neath and cuddled the cat close. “The world’s complicated enough. Don’t you roll your eyes at me!”

The fairy drifted backwards, out of reach. His worried eyes scanned her face. “If your world is so complicated, what’s the addition of a couple more complications going to cost you? Do typhoons and microwaves bother you? They're
very
complicated.”

Marley started to respond and then tripped over her tongue as she actually thought about the question. Then, begrudgingly, she said, “But I don’t know if the new things are...
a microwave or a typhoon or a hallucination.” Even as she said it, she realized that was
an
issue, but
not
the biggest issue making her so angry with the world.

The fairy shrugged. “Mortals can’t make typhoons.”

“Well, humans did these things.”

“Did they? You sure? Well, humans are talented folks.” The fairy smirked.

Marley’s irritation at the fairy returned. “I saw them.
Children
.” As she said it, a great shudder passed through her body. “These are tiny kids, and they can do such unbelievable things.” She again saw the terrible expression on Lissa’s little face, as she told the women with the guns to
go away
.

The devouring static stretching from Lissa to the women, at the same time as a similar static enfolded Kari’s hands on Marley’s arm.

And then the wings had come, and the ringing, otherworldly voice had spoken—but that, and all it implied, didn’t bother Marley nearly as much as the children. Forces she couldn’t guess at wanted them, and she
knew
it wasn’t to coerce Zachariah. They were amazing all on their own.

“They’re so
small
,” she said. “And so young. How can they possibly be aware of what they’re doing? And I’ve made them my responsibility.” The thought made her angry, not at the twins, but at a world which had taken advantage of her weak spot to saddle her with more than she had any idea how to handle. “That doesn’t mean just keeping them safe. That means... teaching them. That means if they hurt anybody, it’s because I let them do it. How can I teach them if I don’t even understand what they’re doing?”

“Find out more?” Chime turned so he was floating on his back. He sounded bored.

“How?” Marley demanded.

“How should I know? However your kind passes on lore. Or do you think these babes are something new? Uncharted territory?” A miniscule eyebrow arched. “I mean, personally, I don’t think you should worry about it. There’s much more important things going on. My people, for example.”

“Real children trump dream people, Tinkerbell.”

The fairy made a sour face. “
Her
friend was much more amenable to adventure than you are.”

Marley ignored him.
Wings at your window
. “Some of them seem more friendly than others. I could at least find out why they’re so interested in the kids.”