Matchbox Girls (5 page)

“Oh, that’s great!” Marley tried to hide her disappointment, but Penny’s smile faded.

“Are you sure? I mean, I didn’t know about the kids when he called. I do want the scoop on how you ended up babysitting them, you know.”

“Not quite sure of that myself,” Marley muttered. The day had taken on a dreamlike quality that seemed far away from the whoosh-whoosh noises the girls were making as they flew their fairy dolls around the table. “I wanted to get your help with something, though.”

She fumbled around until she came up with the sheaf of pages she’d taken from Zachariah’s study. She'd opened it again after coming home from the park, hoping against expectation that it was actually a useful legal document or something similar. Instead she'd found... strangeness. Strangeness she hadn't had time to investigate before the twins had needed her help with something. “I found this under mysterious circumstances, and you like puzzles, so I wanted to see what you made of it.”

Penny flipped through the pages, each one covered in black marks that looked like handwriting in an unknown alphabet. “Is it a cipher?”

“I have no idea. Is it? For all I know, it's just really bad handwriting.”

Penny smiled faintly and rotated the pages to examine them from different angles. “It's not the Roman alphabet.” She peered at the black markings from the side. Then she frowned and flipped through the pages again. “Is this some kind of holographic thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I just saw the marks move.” Penny flipped through the pages again and frowned, running her fingers over the paper. “Probably just my imagination. Look, you can see how the dots and marks curl together. An optical illusion, maybe. Could be part of deciphering it.”

Marley peered over her shoulder. The swirling markings didn’t seem any different to her, but she hadn’t studied them closely before.

Something dark moved at the corner of her gaze. She turned her head sharply and for a moment, it seemed like the swirled black designs had burned into her retina, flashing over her vision. She blinked and the afterimage faded away.

“Neath,” she called, and on the opposite side of the room, the cat meowed from her perch on the dining room table.

“What is it?” Penny asked.

Marley muttered, “Optical illusions.”

* * *

When Branwyn came home, Marley put the sheaf of papers away and conversation turned back to Penny’s European adventure. Marley tried to pay attention, but between keeping an eye on the twins with their butterfly fairies and looking frequently into the corners of the room, she only seemed to catch one word in three.

Penny didn’t notice. She was aglow, jubilant over being home again, thrilled about her upcoming date. While Marley couldn’t keep track of her anecdotes, she enjoyed her friend’s radiant happiness. It was so rare.

Branwyn was more attentive. She commented on Penny’s stories and more than once, Marley looked up from peering into the shadows to see Branwyn watching her thoughtfully. Finally, the sun set and the oppressive heat of the day loosened its grip. Penny noticed the time and made her escape, promising to call them both the next day.

Branwyn closed the door behind Penny and turned to Marley. “Why don’t we put the girls to bed on the pull-out sofa and then talk?”

Talk. Why did the promise of a future talk never bode well? Still, Marley was grateful for the assistance of somebody more familiar with children while she worked out the bedtime routine. There were baths and stories and tucking in involved.

Lissa tugged at her sleeve while Marley was snugging the sheet down. She didn’t say anything, but looked deep into Marley’s eyes, as if trying to find something.

Marley kissed her forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

Lissa wrinkled her brow. “That man today... He said he knew Uncle Zach. But he was mean to you.”

From the other side of the bed, Kari said, “He was yucky.”

Marley chose her words with care. “He was pretending something was true and got confused, that’s all.” Branwyn, crouched on the other side of the sofa bed, listened as keenly as the little girls.

Lissa’s fingers tightened in Marley’s sleeve. “Don’t leave us. Don’t leave us anywhere.” Her voice was tiny.

Marley wrapped her fingers around Lissa’s hand. “I won’t. I promise.” Her adoptive mother had made the same promise, and oh, how Marley had tested it. She suddenly decided Zachariah was going to be in
so
much trouble when he got back. “Your uncle will come back soon, and he’ll probably have presents for you.” She’d damn well make sure of that. “So curl up and sleep and we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Okay?”

Lissa’s other hand tightened on her new doll, and then she released Marley and rolled over. “G’night.”

Marley went to the other side and repeated the goodnight kiss and whispered, “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

Branwyn followed her into her bedroom and half-closed the door behind her. She kept her voice low as she said, “At least they have each other.”

“At least my second mother never actually vanished on me. I feel so bad for them,” countered Marley.

Branwyn grimaced. “What do you think happened?”

Marley studied her friend. She had naturally red hair, but since high school, Branwyn had chosen to dye it exotic colors. This month, her hair was green, and the color intensified her eyes. But no matter how she dyed her hair, Branwyn always
looked
like a redhead. Not only that, she looked like the kind of person who caused trouble.

 And it was true. Branwyn was chronically unable to resist involving herself in trouble. She’d been arrested more than once for being involved with illegal protests or unauthorized explorations. It drove Marley nuts, but now that attitude might be useful. “I don’t know. It
looks
like he just walked away. Leaving behind his cellphone and his car. Which...” Marley hesitated and then concluded with, “Doesn’t seem like him. And there are weird things...”

“Such as?”

“Just... incongruities. Things out of place. I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill. Don’t worry about it.”

Branwyn blew out her breath in exasperation. “You’re being as vague as Penny was about this Jeremy guy she’s on a date with.”

“Jeremy?” Marley shook herself as a nasty feeling uncurled. She’d forgotten something. Two Jeremys in one day? “Jeremy. Did she say his full name?”

“Jeremy White. A lawyer. But she wouldn’t say how she met him or what they did together.” Branwyn’s annoyed look faded as she met Marley’s eyes. “What?”

Marley sank down onto her bed. “Oh God. That’s got to be a coincidence, right?”

“
What
?”

“That guy the kids were talking about. He wanted to take them away from me, tried to convince me he was their guardian. He introduced himself as Jeremy White.”

“Their guardian. But you didn’t believe him?”

Marley shrugged helplessly. “I’m sure he was lying. Incongruities, you know?”

“I wonder what Zachariah was involved with?” Branwyn's mouth twisted with worry. “I wonder what
Penny’s
involved with.”

Marley hunched her shoulders. “All I know is that something bad will happen to the twins if I don’t take care of them.” It slipped out before she could stop herself. She tried so hard to keep the crazy to herself.

Branwyn only looked at her solemnly. “All right.” She hesitated. “This sounds like a big time investment. I don’t want to add to your stress, but we need to do something about Neath. If we're keeping her, we have to pay the deposit. The apartment manager keeps reminding me, every morning.”

Marley rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. I’ll handle it soon, I promise. Somehow.” A check from one of the sites or magazines she wrote for occasionally might be in mail. It was possible.

“I could just pay it, Marley. I have a credit card. Or we could send her to my family; I already asked Mom and she’d love a kitten she didn’t have to keep once it became a cat. Just until you get things together.”

“No!” Marley fought down a surge of frustration. “No. Thank you. I want to do it myself. I can’t depend on other people for everything.” The kitten had just appeared one day, meowing in the hedge below her bedroom window. As soon as she’d picked the tiny creature up, the kitten had nestled into her hand and begun to purr. Marley had thought then that maybe if she couldn’t get her life together for her own sake, she could do it for another, for something else that needed her. Nobody really needed her book reviews, her silly articles; nobody needed her abandoned graduate work in literature. But that little body depended on her. Nobody had ever depended on her like that before.

After a moment, Branwyn said, “We have two weeks until rent is due. I can put the apartment manager off until then. But if you don’t have the money, I’m going to pay it myself. I can’t lose the apartment over this.”

Then she patted Marley’s shoulder. “Don’t look so despondent. Two weeks is a long time. L.A. could burn down. You could be arrested for child stealing. The Russian mafia could kick down our door. It could all be so much worse!”

A little smile crept across Marley’s face. “I suppose so.”

Branwyn stepped out of the room and returned a moment later with Neath in her arms. “Here’s your motivation.”

“Thank you.”

“Good night, Marley.”

“Good night, Branwyn.”

-six-

W
hen Marley was a child, nightmares had stalked her sleep, making her rest uneasy and waking a misery. This continued until she trained herself to wake swiftly and immediately distract herself with the tasks of the morning. To never, ever think about what she dreamt; if something triggered a flash of dream-memory, it was safest ignored. Her sleep was still uneasy, but at least once she woke up, she was fine.

One of the side effects of the anti-anxiety medication she took was that it buried dreams, and so for the last few years, her sleep had been far more peaceful.

But now she dreamt again.

She lay in a four-poster bed, dressed in a high-necked nightgown, in a bedroom that she recognized but did not remember. Her childhood memories crowded the shelves that lined the walls, and on the floor there was a rug woven of her kindergarten lessons.

She sat up, languid, as if she'd spent a long time sleeping, and looked around the room further. A rocking chair was draped with her baby blanket, and a chest at the foot of the bed was crayoned with clouds and trees. On the chest sat Neath, watching her carefully.

Marley stretched. “You don’t belong here, do you? I never had a cat growing up.” She felt weak, as if she was flexing muscles she'd never used before.

The kitten tilted her head attentively, the same way she listened to Marley when it was close to dinnertime.

Marley beckoned to Neath. It was odd that she was dreaming, and odder that she was aware of it, but she was not uncomfortable. She felt totally relaxed, better than she'd felt in years.

The cat ignored the summons and shifted her gaze to the bottom of Marley’s bed, ears swiveling. A moment later, Marley heard it, too: a tiny grunt, as of somebody squeezing through a tight space.

Something was hiding under her bed.

When she’d been very small, sometimes she’d leap off the bed to avoid grasping hands, or huddle under the covers and worry about sharks in the sea that masqueraded as a floor. But that had been in her real bedroom, in her little single bed with the princess frame. This was the bedroom of her mind. If she was safe anywhere, she was safe here. She knew this, and trusted it.

She leaned over the edge of the bed and peeked under. “Hello?”

There was a glint, and a sparkle. Then a small shape crawled out from under the bed, shaking its head, amidst a puff of dust. “Not what I expected,” it said, in a pleasant, boyish voice. Neath arched her back and hissed.

Once clear from the bed, it stood up and inspected itself, glancing at bare arms and leaf-clad legs, and then twisted around to look at the dragonfly wings on its back. “But it’ll do. Greetings and salutations, fair lady.”

Marley blinked. “You’re a fairy fashion doll.” But that wasn’t quite right. It was male, to start with, and quite alive. Neath began to growl.

Lips far more expressive than a doll’s twitched in response. “It’s too soon for that conversation, don’t you think? We’ve haven't even intro—oh shit!” The little figure disappeared under a biting, clawing kitten.

Marley watched in concern. She’d never seen Neath angry before, and it was different from how she played with her toy mouse. There was a flash of bare chest under the kitten. A green leg kicked. Curses mingled with the yowling. A tiny fist plunked Neath on the nose and the sprite scrambled away while the kitten looked at herself cross-eyed. Crimson scratches glistened on his torso.

Then Neath refocused and leapt again. This time, he was ready, rolling with her and kicking out with both legs. The kitten squeaked breathlessly as she tumbled off him and failed to land on her feet.

Marley intervened, scooping up Neath. “Hey,” she said mildly. “Don’t hurt my cat.”

The sprite glared up at her. “Don't ‘hey’ me! Who’s the one bleeding here?”

Neath hissed.

“Bleeding—and winged! Fly away.” She stuck her tongue out as the sprite gave her a startled look. It seemed like the right thing to do in the environment. “What are you doing here, anyhow?”

“Right, introductions.” He looked over his shoulder at his wings again. “I wonder if these things work.” He flicked one with a pointy-nailed finger, and it quivered. Then they whirred to life and the sprite lifted into the air. “Whee!” He buzzed around the room.

Neath started growling again. It was a strange sound, much smaller than a dog’s growl but far more menacing. The sprite paused in midair and pointed a finger at Marley. “You keep that cat away from me, or I’ll go right back where I came from.”

“Why doesn’t she like you?”

“Do you think I know? Do you think I spend a lot of time around great gawky cats longer than I am tall? Silly thing can’t even land on its feet. Who ever heard of a cat not landing on its feet?”