Tuesday's Short - Harper's Choice
This week’s short story takes us from Harper's early days in the Parnormal Operations Squad where unicorns can lead to all kinds of trouble to a point in her future where rescuing pixies leads her to discovering just how differently time moves in the elven lands. Welcome to
Harper's Choice.
“The world turns differently for each of us, and we have no choice but to take its hand and dance the next set of steps.” (Argyllis, 2017)
Harper disagreed. Rescuing pixies from drug-runners, and working alongside unicorns and elves was part of her job. The world had turned, and she had chosen, but, when she is badly injured and taken into the elven realms, Harper finds she has a whole new set of steps to choose—and that time, indeed, moves differently in the Other World.Harper's Choice
“The world turns differently for each of us, and we have no choice but to turn with it, to take its hand and dance the next set of steps.”
Those were the words Argyllis had lived by, and by those words he had died. I stared down at his body, and thought of what a liar he had been. We always have a choice what steps we can dance to the world’s rhythm. We don’t have to dance the way it demands. We can dance a counterpoint and not let our steps be chosen for us.
Argyllis had known that. He had merely hidden behind his set of false wisdom so he had an excuse for what he did. I looked around at the burning warehouse. Well, he had no excuse for this. I looked down at his body, and all I felt was numb. Around me, the pixies swarmed and flew, flitting through the falling cinders to makes sure no one had been left behind.
The elves had taken their dogs clear of the fire, and the unicorns were trotting down each burning aisle to make sure they’d found each and every smuggler that had been involved. I just stood, staring at the burning equipment they’d used to turn the pixies into dust, Argyllis’s body at my feet. All I felt was hollow.
He’d been going to gift me to the trolls.
I was frozen by the thought of it, stunned beyond terror, held in thrall by disbelief. The hand that curled around my bicep and pulled me away from the blaze should have come as a surprise, but I felt nothing.
“Come on.”
I was aware of the warehouse gradually emptying, of the unicorns gathering around me, the pixies forming a protective shell around us, didn’t resist as I was led past the police cordon, my escort accepting a blanket from one of the paramedics as we passed. We kept moving as he draped that blanket around my shoulders, and then tucked an arm across my back.
It was like moving through a dream. Surrounded by unicorns and pixies, my uniform holed by embers, my hands… I looked down, and then I remembered how to feel, and stopped dead.
“Shades of the Luca,” my escort swore, as I gasped.
“Don’t look,” he added, as I started to raise my hands so I could see them better.
Of course, I ignored him, and only the arm he had around my shoulders, and the hasty grip on my wrists stopped me from crumbling. I could see… I could see burnt flesh… bone. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to run, and leave my hands far, far behind. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.
“You got them out of the vat,” he said, holding me tight. “You saved them all.”
I wasn’t sure that would be compensation enough for losing both my hands.
“The druids can help you,” he said, and I wanted to laugh, managed it, too, if that tiny, broken sound could be counted as a laugh.
We kept moving forward, further from the warehouse, moving through the trees at the edge of the park, and then beyond. I hadn’t even been aware we’d crossed through the barrier between worlds, until the druid stepped into our path.
With whickering snorts of anxiety, the unicorns nudged me forward, buffeting my escort as well. He didn’t protest their rough handling, nor complain about being smeared by the blood on their muzzles, or the gore dripping from their horns, but he kept his arm tight across my shoulders, his hand around my wrists.
“Help with what?” the druid wanted to know, and then he saw my hands, and I caught the look he cast the one who’d brought me. He glared around at the gathered unicorns and pixie swarm, and then he looked into my face, and down at my hands.
I followed his gaze downwards, and wondered if I should hurt more, if it was normal to feel so cold, and so empty, or if I should be worried that I felt so very, very alone.
“Who did this to you?” the druid asked, looking back up to my face and snaring my eyes with his own. “Who?”
And I knew he did not mean who had hurt my hands or caused the multiple burns all over my body, but who had ravaged my soul.
“Argyllis,” I said, and fell, knowing I was lifted, before I hit the ground.
* * *
The first time I woke, I did not care. The trees arched overhead, and the warm bulk of a unicorn was nestled against my back. A small flock of pixies kept watch from the edge of the blanket, waving as my eyes fluttered open, and then closed again.
The second time I woke, the pixies were gone, and I was alone in my blankets. I wondered where the unicorn was, and then wondered why I cared. The pixie that landed on the edge of my bed made me smile. I knew him, even though I did not know his name.
“You made it,” I said, and my voice was no more than a whisper, as if I had worn it out with shouting.
I felt sadness and relief, when the pixie sat down by my head and laid a gentle hand in my hair.
“Thank you,” he said, as I closed my eyes.
The third time I woke, the pixie was gone, and his absence had me in tears. I closed my eyes, again, and fell asleep to the sound of quiet hoofsteps, and soft whickers, wondering where the pixies were, and why the unicorns sounded so far away. I had the feeling something terrible had happened, but I didn’t know what.
The fourth time I woke, it was to the roar of a troll, and I rolled out of bed and had my back against the far wall of the room before I was fully awake. I was looking for a weapon, any weapon, but I couldn’t see one, and my hands were bandaged and sore. I probably couldn’t hold a weapon if I tried. When the troll roared again, there was agony in its voice, and I saw the first golden beams of sunrise touching the leaves above.
Knowing I was safe, I sat down on the edge of the bed, contenting myself with just staring at the dawn. I lay down and slept, as the first pixies flitted out into the sunlight. They were still there when I woke again, but I heard no trolls. I sat up and watched the pixies spiral skyward, rejoicing in the day’s arrival, while I slowly realised I was looking out at the forest from the heights of a tree.
“Nice,” I murmured, understanding why I hadn’t woken up beside another unicorn.
Footsteps echoed over the wooden floor, and I turned towards them, realising there was a balcony beyond my window to the trees. A familiar shape moved across one of the windows, and stopped outside the door.
There was no knock, just the door swinging open and the elf coming through.
“Are you ready to return to your world?” he asked, and I saw no compassion on his beautiful face.
“It wasn’t a dream?” I asked, and he shook his head, making the memories that had haunted my sleep become all too real. “I… Please, just…”
And I buried my face in my hands, blocking out the sight of him, the sight of the pixies dancing in sunbeams beyond.
“Just what?” he asked, when I’d sat, too quiet for too long.
“Just go,” I said, not daring to look at him. One does not tell the fey to go away, not when they are guests in the fey realm itself. Even I knew that.
Of course, he did not go. He did not move. He just stood there, until I lifted my head out of my hands and looked up at him.
“You’re still here,” I said, before he could speak a word.
“And you need to leave,” he said. “You’ve been here far too long.”
I looked down at my hands. They looked the same as they always had—well, as they always had, except for that one time when I’d seen them after the warehouse fire. I stared at my palms, trying to work out how long I had to have slept for the flesh to have grown back, the pain to have gone, and then I looked up at his face.
“How—” I began, but he cut me off.
“The druids!” And his tone was sharp.
I stared.
“They’ve exacted their price.” From the sound of it, that topic was closed, but still I asked.
“What do I owe…” My voice dried in my throat, at the look on his face.
“It is paid,” he said. “And for your service, we exact no cost.”
“My what?” I asked, and a look of impatient fury marred his features.
Remembering the fire, I stood up, and looked around.
“I’ll go,” I said, and he pointed at a stack of clothes folded on a nearby chair.
“Get dressed.”
The clothes made me realise I wasn’t wearing much, but the elf didn’t seem to care. I glared at him.
“You’ll have to leave,” I said.
“No.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Your point?”
“You could at least look away.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and then nodded, crossing to the window.
“Better?”
Given it reminded me there were no curtains, and the window looked out into a forest full of pixies, not much, but I gave him the answer he wanted.
“Yes.”
It was the fastest clothes change I’ve ever done. For one thing, I didn’t know if he’d stay looking out the window, and, for another, pixies or not, the fact anyone could see in made me really uneasy. Seems I could feel something after all.
“This way,” he said, when I was done, and he headed for the door.
This time, I was able to follow on my own. I did not need a swarm of pixies, and a herd of unicorns to guide me. I did not need the strength of his arm across my shoulders to keep me upright. I felt nothing, and wondered if the numbness would ever fade, or if that was part of the price the druids had asked.
We went down a staircase made of planks and ropes, suspended between a branch and the forest floor, and then out across grass partially buried by fallen leaves.
“It’s autumn?”
“You slept.”
“How long…” I began, but he held up his hand for silence.
“We are about to cross the veil.”
“It’s Canterbury Park,” I told him. “How bad can it be?”
He looked at me, and I caught a flash of pity.
Maybe.
It was either that, or indigestion. Finally, he shrugged.
“You never know what you’ll find on the other side,” he said, and we were about to move forward, when I heard footsteps running through the leaves behind us.
We both turned, and the elf cursed.
“Luca’s shadow!”
“Are we there, yet?” I asked, and wasn’t prepared when he turned and gave me a powerful shove, propelling me past two she-oaks, and through the scraggly growth of a bottlebrush.
“Go!”
“Hey!”
There was no response, so I picked myself up, and turned around to see where I’d landed.
Luca’s shadow, indeed! Shock shivered through me, and I turned back the way I’d come. There was no way. No freaking way…
I took three deep breaths, and held the last one in, then I closed my eyes and did a slow one-eighty away from the forest. Counting to three in my head, I opened first one eye, and then the other. Oh. Hell! No.
I wondered if running back into the forest would do me an ounce of good, but I kept my eyes open, letting my head get used to the idea of what I saw. Maybe I was under the influence…
I was still trying to wrap my head around what was in front of me, when something came crashing through the undergrowth behind me. I thought of unicorns and then I thought of trolls, and then I remembered sunlight, and dawn, and pixies dancing, and registered I was seeing nothing but twilight and streetlights, and I started to run. I was too close to the veil to do anything else.
If it’s a troll, I thought, I’m toast. What if it’s something else? But I didn’t want to think about that; I just wanted to outdistance whatever it was that was tearing through the bottlebrush behind me.
I reached a streetlight and was glad to find pavement under my feet. Behind me, I heard a thump and a clatter followed by an angry shout, so I sprinted forward. Streetlights weren’t a problem. Things that go bump in the night, especially things that come charging out of elven forests, can be—and I didn’t want to stop and find out I’d been right.
The streets were wider than I remembered them, the warehouses gone, replaced by elegant, double-story apartments, but that wasn’t what had made me stop beneath the streetlight at the edge of the park. No, that had been the shuttle rising above the apartments about two blocks down. I heard someone call out behind me, and then footsteps.
“Wait!”
I kept running, and the footsteps picked up pace. Whoever it was called out again.
“Please wait.”
The ‘please’ almost did it, but the street was deserted, the streetlights too far apart—and I knew there were creatures that could mimic a human voice. I ran on, heading towards where I’d seen the shuttle rise.
“You’re hallucinating,” said the little voice in my head, but I ignored it.
If I was hallucinating, then I’d come to, eventually.
“Oh, God,” called the voice behind me, and it sounded more plaintive than ever. “Don’t leave me on my own.”
It was the ‘oh, God’ that did it. None of the creatures of the dark used that phrase. They called on specific deities, old deities, and that was if they called on them at all. I slowed down, taking a chance, and stopping in the cold, white glow of a street light.
I wasn’t taking thatmuch of a chance.
To my surprise, the thing following me was human, and he was loaded down like a pack mule. I watched as he passed under one of the street lights half a block down. He really washuman… and sort of familiar.
“Who areyou?” I asked, waiting as he came closer.
He looked like he was wearing a paramedic’s uniform.
“I gave you a blanket,” he said, and caught the blank look I gave him. “After the warehouse. You were in pretty bad shape, so I gave… you… a blanket.”
He stopped in front of me.
“Didn’t want shock setting in,” he finished lamely. “You don’t remember me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you were pretty out of it, and the elf wouldn’t stop.”
That was one way to put it, but I didn’t want to remember. Man didn’t seem to recognise it, though.
“They said you were dead,” he said. “That you died in the fire. I tried contacting your department, but…”
I waited for his voice to peter out, then pointed to the extra pack he was dragging along by its straps.
“You want a hand with that?”
He glanced down as though remembering it.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. They let me grab some supplies. Said time moves differently in the other realm. This one’s yours.”
There was a roar from behind and slightly to the right of us, and I turned in time to see another shuttle lifting from behind the buildings. The medic stared at it, and I half-turned to follow his gaze.
“You are shitting me,” he said, his voice not much more than a breath, and I felt my world shudder.
“You saw that?” I asked.
“It was a bit hard to miss.”
“You mean I’m not high?” I pressed, and he looked at me, and shook his head.
“Like I said, time moves different in the Other Realm.” He paused, and I could see his face had gone a funny shade of grey. “Was that a space ship?”
I glanced up at the thing, let my eyes take in its shape and form, and then I looked back at him.
“Shuttle,” I said, and he stared at me, mouth agape.
“You knowwhat that is?”
I pushed back the sense of unreality threatening to overwhelm me, and nodded.
“Yup,” I said, trying to convince myself I was in control—that, maybe, I was on a movie set, a really sophisticated one. “That was a shuttle.”
The paramedic was having none of it.
“You’re telling me we’re in the future?”
“Yup,” I said, wishing we weren’t doing this, here, in the middle of the street, and that I had something to counteract the shock. “Let’s go find chocolate.”
“Chocolate?”
“I need chocolate,” I said, figuring the sugar would help both of us fight the shock. “They’ve got to have chocolate, right?”
“I… yeah. Chocolate.” He moved up beside me, dividing his attention between me and the sky.
I reached out and took the extra pack he’d brought, and we walked a few more steps in the direction of the buildings the shuttle had taken off from, and then he stopped again.
“You think they remember us?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Remy. Remy Black.”
I took a step, and he mirrored the movement, so I took another, and he kept coming. I breathed a sigh of relief, and kept us moving to where the shuttles came from. There was bound to be a police station there. Well, there should be one… or someone that knew where one was. Maybe this kind of thing had happened before, and someone would know how to deal with it. Maybe… I heard Remy’s steps start slowing down again, but I kept moving.
“You a paramedic, Remy?”
“Yeah. Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d drop in at the station. See if the POS is still around.”
“POS,” and he started to snicker. “You think they still call it that?”
This time, I stopped, and I turned, and I looked him in the eye.
“You better hope they do, Remy. Otherwise, we’re gonna have a helluva time explaining how we got here.”
He paled a bit, and then gestured at something behind me.
“Well, now’s your chance,” he said, and I turned back in time to see the two cops who’d come out of the building see me and Remy.
“You!” one shouted, and I grabbed hold of the urge to run.
Nothing makes a cop madder than if you make him run to catch you, and the pack I’d taken off Remy was heavy. Speaking of Remy, I glanced at him, ready to grab him if he made a break for it, but I didn’t need to. He was looking from the cop to me, and back again. Following his gaze, I realised he wasn’t the one they were talking to.
“Yes officer?”
“Hands where I can see them.”
I held my hands clear of my body, and they came closer. Remy had taken a step closer to me, his movement drawing attention.
“You! Don’t move.”
And Remy froze.
Their hands hovered over the guns at their hips, but they didn’t draw. I stood as still as I could, and waited. Beside me, Remy did the same. One stopped, and the other approached.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Officer Harper, and this is Officer Black.”
“Harper and Black,” said the officer who’d stood back from us, and I realised he was talking into a small, round badge on his collar. “Yeah. Black’s wearing a 21st century paramedic’s uniform, and Harper…” He glanced over. “She’s wearing the usual tunic and breeches.”
I watched the exchange, but didn’t move a muscle. ‘Usual tunic and breeches’ sounded like they did know how to deal with this kind of thing. Maybe that should have worried me. In fact, it didworry me, and I cast a quick glance over at Black. The frown on his face didn’t make me feel any better.
I glanced around the street, and the officer in front of me tensed. He reached out and grabbed my arm, just as the sound of a high-speed engine caught our ears.
“Inside!” he shouted, turning to drag me back towards the building we’d been heading towards.
“You, too!” his partner added, as a floating vehicle the size of a mini-van slid around a corner at the other end of the street. He took the two steps he needed to reach Remy and grab hold of him. “Come on!”
Neither of us argued. The guys we were following were in uniform; the minivan was a blue so dark it was almost black—and it had no markings. It made me wonder if it was this world’s equivalent of the white mini-vans used by so many murderers in our own time, but I didn’t stop to ask. We made it through the doors just as the vehicle drew parallel with the curb.
“Don’t stop,” ordered the officer who had a hold of my arm. “We’re not safe, yet.”
Which made me wonder why policemen had to run.
I didn’t have much time to think about that, as we ran through a mostly empty concourse lined by shops, travel agents, and duty-free stores. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said we’d made it to the airport—except Canterbury Park was nowhere near an airport, and there wouldn’t have been space to build one, back in my own world. Just exactly what had happened to bring the place to this?
I had so many questions, and a lot less time to ask them than I realised.
“What did we do?” I asked, as they ushered us into a holding cell, and took away our packs.
I thought about fighting for the pack, I honestly did, but we were in the holding cell by then, with one officer back up by the door, and the other one holding out his hand, and I thought better of it. No way either of us would reach the farthest one before he could draw and fire. I looked at Remy, and he looked back, gave me a shrug, and slipped his pack from his shoulders.
I followed suit, and we let the officer make it out of the cell without trying to get them back.
“Hey,” I said, as they locked the door behind him, and they looked up. “Got any chocolate?”
“Got any coins?”
Remy and I exchanged glances, then Remy patted his pockets, and I patted mine. We both knew the answer, but who could resist pulling a chain or two, when they’re world’s been pulled right out from under them? The officers didn’t bother staying for the show; they walked away, shaking their heads. I sighed. At least the holding cell was familiar… to me, anyway. I’d put enough people into one.
Which made me wonder some more. I looked at Remy, checked off shoes and laces, checked off his belt, guessed they didn’t think we were much of a suicide risk—or they didn’t care, either way. Remy sat himself down on the floor, leant back against the wall, and put his hands behind his head.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is so much better than where we were. Wonder how long they’ll keep us waiting?”
“At least there aren’t any trolls.”
I sat down on the opposite side of the cell, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes. I’d probably had enough sleep to last me a lifetime, but old habits die hard. Too many years of catching zees between ops and paperwork were kicking in, and I couldn’t think of anything better to do. There was no point asking Remy when we were. All he’d say was ‘time moves differently in the Other World’, and I knew that already.
We weren’t sitting there long. Once the door into the cell area had closed behind them, things settled into silence… and they took a while before they got noisy again. The door rattled open, and I opened my eyes. Remy opened his, and we shared a moment, while we decided if we could be bothered getting up to see what was going on. In the end, we decided to go back to looking like we were asleep.
I settled back against the wall and closed my eyes, and then opened them just enough to see Remy mirror me. And then we waited. I don’t think either of us were surprised when the footsteps coming down the corridor stopped right outside our cell, and then we were up on our feet before we could stop ourselves. Me, because I had sudden visions of a violent newcomer being added to our cage, and Remy, well, for whatever reason had him looking that hunted. We turned to face the bars.
“These are Officers Harper and Black. You can see from the way Harper’s dressed that she’s been in elven hands. We’re assuming that because they were together, they crossed at the same time, but we haven’t had time to question them, given how quickly you arrived.”
The patrolman who’d brought me in wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t sure I liked the looks of the company he was keeping. I exchanged a look with Remy, and we moved to stand, side by side, in the centre of the cell. The patrolman ignored us and continued with his spiel.
“From his uniform, and the records we’ve found, Officer Black is a paramedic from the twenty-first century, and we know Harper was involved in the Paranormal Operations Squad running at the time.”
This drew sudden interest from the men and women standing in the corridor, and I felt went from feeling uncomfortable to downright uneasy. Remy shuffled a little closer, until I could feel his shoulder close to mine. Whatever was coming, he was sticking with me… at least, I hoped that’s what that meant. I took the time to assess the patrolman’s companions.
Three men, two women, all hard edged and stone-faced. All as human as they come. I wondered if that was a good thing. The Squad had been bringing in elves as officers in my time. Pixies, too. But then, these guys and gals didn’t look like POS officers. They were paramilitary of some kind, each of them wearing the usual black fatigues I’d come to associate with mercenaries in the movies, and each of them just as armed. Had to admit, that last one surprised me a bit.
Back in the day, we’d never have let armed visitors into the cells. The patrolman’s next words caught me by surprise.
“So, you interested?”
I watched as the leader pretended nonchalance, looking us over with the bland, bored look of someone hiding how they really felt. The look, though, that was pure professional assessment, kinda like a sergeant inspecting potential troops. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be found lacking, or to meet with his approval. The world sure was turning fast.
I was glad of Remy’s shoulder against mine.
“Could be,” the guy said, “but it depends on how much you’re asking.”
“Harrogates is offering the standard.”
“Harrogates are a pack of butchers.”
The patrolman shrugged, glanced over at us and back up at him.
“I don’t set the price,” he said, “but I’m sure you could do with another medic.”
Now, I was torn. I might not be a medic, but I didn’t like the sound of this Harrogates outfit.”
“Do we get a say?” I asked, and the patrolman shot me a nasty look.
“You say any more, and it’ll be the last thing you do say for a very long while. You can go out upright, or in a box.”
I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. Sonuvagun looked like he meant it, even if I couldn’t quite see how he was going to back it up. I settled for raising my eyebrows at him, and giving him my most doubting stare. It didn’t quite say ‘bring it, little man,’ but it was darn close. One of the women, behind him, smiled.
It was fast, a flash of approval that came and went so quick I almost missed it.
“Harrogates don’t have to know,” the leader said, just as we heard the door to the corridor open.
They turned to look. We tried to peer around the corner, without moving any closer to the bars. It was like being at the zoo, with the lions on the outside of the cage… or the sale yards with buyers looking on, but I was trying not to think of that.
“Garrett.” The mercenary leader was clearly not pleased, and the newcomer wasn’t alone—he had two medics and a box following in after.
“Brant.” Obviously, the feeling was mutual, but Garrett wasn’t going to let that get in the way of business. “We’ll let you have the medic, but we want to the investigator.”
“We’ll outbid you for both.”
“I doubt it.”
“Care to tell me why?”
Yeah, I thought, realising he wasn’t asking why he’d be outbid, but why Garrett’s crowd was after me. Tell me why.
“Reports have her as dying in a fire, but there’s another one that said he saw an elf take her, alive, from the warehouse, and that she was badly burnt.”
I remembered, felt the blood leave my face, couldn’t help glancing down at my hands. Garret kept talking, though, like none of them had noticed what I’d done—except they were all looking through the bars, right at me.
“Well, I don’t see a mark on her, do you?”
The merc leader, Brant, made a show of looking me over, and I resisted the urge to hold my hands up for inspection. There was no point in being too cooperative. Besides, if Garrett, or either of those medics came anywhere near me, they were going to get a good close look, anyway—at my fist.
When Brant shook his head, Garrett continued.
“We want to see what the residual of druid magic looks like.”
I saw Brant cast a quick glance at me, saw him swallow, hard, as he turned his gaze back to Garrett.
“We need an investigator with her experience,” he admitted, and I saw the patrolman’s face take on a look of calculating greed.
Garrett shrugged.
“You’ll find someone else.”
“We have priority.”
Garrett cast a self-satisfied look at the patrolman.
“Not today, you don’t.”
“But you already know what the residual looks like. I’ve seen the reports.”
“What can I say? You can’t have too much of a good thing.”
Brant tossed me a quick glance, and Remy nudged me in the ribs. I nodded. This could go all to hell on us, but I wasn’t leaving with Garrett without a fight—and then several things happened at once.
Brant said, “But…”
And Garrett cut him off.
“It’s non-negotiable.”
To which Brant replied, “So, negotiate this!” and slugged Garrett so hard he was out cold on the floor before anyone could blink.
Except Brant’s crew, two of which shot Garrett’s companions before they could drop the box, and one of which had a good hold on the patrolman who’d been doing the sales pitch, the patrolman who was now very quiet as he spread his arms wide, and let one of the mercs take his keys.
Brant flipped Garret over onto his stomach and held out his hand to the other patrolman, who handed him the cuffs he’d been wearing on his belt, no questions asked. He’d gone a funny shade of pale and kept his hands up, while Brant’s crew went to work around him.
The cell door opened.
“Come on,” was an order and not a request, and Remy and I went.
The rhythm of the world had changed around us, but we could still choose some of the steps we had to take. These looked like the prelude to an interesting dance. Maybe we’d be able to find the rhythm.
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Harper's Choice is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/31xPnn.
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“The world turns differently for each of us, and we have no choice but to take its hand and dance the next set of steps.” (Argyllis, 2017)
Harper disagreed. Rescuing pixies from drug-runners, and working alongside unicorns and elves was part of her job. The world had turned, and she had chosen, but, when she is badly injured and taken into the elven realms, Harper finds she has a whole new set of steps to choose—and that time, indeed, moves differently in the Other World.Harper's Choice
“The world turns differently for each of us, and we have no choice but to turn with it, to take its hand and dance the next set of steps.”Those were the words Argyllis had lived by, and by those words he had died. I stared down at his body, and thought of what a liar he had been. We always have a choice what steps we can dance to the world’s rhythm. We don’t have to dance the way it demands. We can dance a counterpoint and not let our steps be chosen for us.
Argyllis had known that. He had merely hidden behind his set of false wisdom so he had an excuse for what he did. I looked around at the burning warehouse. Well, he had no excuse for this. I looked down at his body, and all I felt was numb. Around me, the pixies swarmed and flew, flitting through the falling cinders to makes sure no one had been left behind.
The elves had taken their dogs clear of the fire, and the unicorns were trotting down each burning aisle to make sure they’d found each and every smuggler that had been involved. I just stood, staring at the burning equipment they’d used to turn the pixies into dust, Argyllis’s body at my feet. All I felt was hollow.
He’d been going to gift me to the trolls.
I was frozen by the thought of it, stunned beyond terror, held in thrall by disbelief. The hand that curled around my bicep and pulled me away from the blaze should have come as a surprise, but I felt nothing.
“Come on.”
I was aware of the warehouse gradually emptying, of the unicorns gathering around me, the pixies forming a protective shell around us, didn’t resist as I was led past the police cordon, my escort accepting a blanket from one of the paramedics as we passed. We kept moving as he draped that blanket around my shoulders, and then tucked an arm across my back.
It was like moving through a dream. Surrounded by unicorns and pixies, my uniform holed by embers, my hands… I looked down, and then I remembered how to feel, and stopped dead.
“Shades of the Luca,” my escort swore, as I gasped.
“Don’t look,” he added, as I started to raise my hands so I could see them better.
Of course, I ignored him, and only the arm he had around my shoulders, and the hasty grip on my wrists stopped me from crumbling. I could see… I could see burnt flesh… bone. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to run, and leave my hands far, far behind. I wanted… I didn’t know what I wanted.
“You got them out of the vat,” he said, holding me tight. “You saved them all.”
I wasn’t sure that would be compensation enough for losing both my hands.
“The druids can help you,” he said, and I wanted to laugh, managed it, too, if that tiny, broken sound could be counted as a laugh.
We kept moving forward, further from the warehouse, moving through the trees at the edge of the park, and then beyond. I hadn’t even been aware we’d crossed through the barrier between worlds, until the druid stepped into our path.
With whickering snorts of anxiety, the unicorns nudged me forward, buffeting my escort as well. He didn’t protest their rough handling, nor complain about being smeared by the blood on their muzzles, or the gore dripping from their horns, but he kept his arm tight across my shoulders, his hand around my wrists.
“Help with what?” the druid wanted to know, and then he saw my hands, and I caught the look he cast the one who’d brought me. He glared around at the gathered unicorns and pixie swarm, and then he looked into my face, and down at my hands.
I followed his gaze downwards, and wondered if I should hurt more, if it was normal to feel so cold, and so empty, or if I should be worried that I felt so very, very alone.
“Who did this to you?” the druid asked, looking back up to my face and snaring my eyes with his own. “Who?”
And I knew he did not mean who had hurt my hands or caused the multiple burns all over my body, but who had ravaged my soul.
“Argyllis,” I said, and fell, knowing I was lifted, before I hit the ground.
* * *
The first time I woke, I did not care. The trees arched overhead, and the warm bulk of a unicorn was nestled against my back. A small flock of pixies kept watch from the edge of the blanket, waving as my eyes fluttered open, and then closed again.
The second time I woke, the pixies were gone, and I was alone in my blankets. I wondered where the unicorn was, and then wondered why I cared. The pixie that landed on the edge of my bed made me smile. I knew him, even though I did not know his name.
“You made it,” I said, and my voice was no more than a whisper, as if I had worn it out with shouting.
I felt sadness and relief, when the pixie sat down by my head and laid a gentle hand in my hair.
“Thank you,” he said, as I closed my eyes.
The third time I woke, the pixie was gone, and his absence had me in tears. I closed my eyes, again, and fell asleep to the sound of quiet hoofsteps, and soft whickers, wondering where the pixies were, and why the unicorns sounded so far away. I had the feeling something terrible had happened, but I didn’t know what.
The fourth time I woke, it was to the roar of a troll, and I rolled out of bed and had my back against the far wall of the room before I was fully awake. I was looking for a weapon, any weapon, but I couldn’t see one, and my hands were bandaged and sore. I probably couldn’t hold a weapon if I tried. When the troll roared again, there was agony in its voice, and I saw the first golden beams of sunrise touching the leaves above.
Knowing I was safe, I sat down on the edge of the bed, contenting myself with just staring at the dawn. I lay down and slept, as the first pixies flitted out into the sunlight. They were still there when I woke again, but I heard no trolls. I sat up and watched the pixies spiral skyward, rejoicing in the day’s arrival, while I slowly realised I was looking out at the forest from the heights of a tree.
“Nice,” I murmured, understanding why I hadn’t woken up beside another unicorn.
Footsteps echoed over the wooden floor, and I turned towards them, realising there was a balcony beyond my window to the trees. A familiar shape moved across one of the windows, and stopped outside the door.
There was no knock, just the door swinging open and the elf coming through.
“Are you ready to return to your world?” he asked, and I saw no compassion on his beautiful face.
“It wasn’t a dream?” I asked, and he shook his head, making the memories that had haunted my sleep become all too real. “I… Please, just…”
And I buried my face in my hands, blocking out the sight of him, the sight of the pixies dancing in sunbeams beyond.
“Just what?” he asked, when I’d sat, too quiet for too long.
“Just go,” I said, not daring to look at him. One does not tell the fey to go away, not when they are guests in the fey realm itself. Even I knew that.
Of course, he did not go. He did not move. He just stood there, until I lifted my head out of my hands and looked up at him.
“You’re still here,” I said, before he could speak a word.
“And you need to leave,” he said. “You’ve been here far too long.”
I looked down at my hands. They looked the same as they always had—well, as they always had, except for that one time when I’d seen them after the warehouse fire. I stared at my palms, trying to work out how long I had to have slept for the flesh to have grown back, the pain to have gone, and then I looked up at his face.
“How—” I began, but he cut me off.
“The druids!” And his tone was sharp.
I stared.
“They’ve exacted their price.” From the sound of it, that topic was closed, but still I asked.
“What do I owe…” My voice dried in my throat, at the look on his face.
“It is paid,” he said. “And for your service, we exact no cost.”
“My what?” I asked, and a look of impatient fury marred his features.
Remembering the fire, I stood up, and looked around.
“I’ll go,” I said, and he pointed at a stack of clothes folded on a nearby chair.
“Get dressed.”
The clothes made me realise I wasn’t wearing much, but the elf didn’t seem to care. I glared at him.
“You’ll have to leave,” I said.
“No.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“Your point?”
“You could at least look away.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and then nodded, crossing to the window.
“Better?”
Given it reminded me there were no curtains, and the window looked out into a forest full of pixies, not much, but I gave him the answer he wanted.
“Yes.”
It was the fastest clothes change I’ve ever done. For one thing, I didn’t know if he’d stay looking out the window, and, for another, pixies or not, the fact anyone could see in made me really uneasy. Seems I could feel something after all.
“This way,” he said, when I was done, and he headed for the door.
This time, I was able to follow on my own. I did not need a swarm of pixies, and a herd of unicorns to guide me. I did not need the strength of his arm across my shoulders to keep me upright. I felt nothing, and wondered if the numbness would ever fade, or if that was part of the price the druids had asked.
We went down a staircase made of planks and ropes, suspended between a branch and the forest floor, and then out across grass partially buried by fallen leaves.
“It’s autumn?”
“You slept.”
“How long…” I began, but he held up his hand for silence.
“We are about to cross the veil.”
“It’s Canterbury Park,” I told him. “How bad can it be?”
He looked at me, and I caught a flash of pity.
Maybe.
It was either that, or indigestion. Finally, he shrugged.
“You never know what you’ll find on the other side,” he said, and we were about to move forward, when I heard footsteps running through the leaves behind us.
We both turned, and the elf cursed.
“Luca’s shadow!”
“Are we there, yet?” I asked, and wasn’t prepared when he turned and gave me a powerful shove, propelling me past two she-oaks, and through the scraggly growth of a bottlebrush.
“Go!”
“Hey!”
There was no response, so I picked myself up, and turned around to see where I’d landed.
Luca’s shadow, indeed! Shock shivered through me, and I turned back the way I’d come. There was no way. No freaking way…
I took three deep breaths, and held the last one in, then I closed my eyes and did a slow one-eighty away from the forest. Counting to three in my head, I opened first one eye, and then the other. Oh. Hell! No.
I wondered if running back into the forest would do me an ounce of good, but I kept my eyes open, letting my head get used to the idea of what I saw. Maybe I was under the influence…
I was still trying to wrap my head around what was in front of me, when something came crashing through the undergrowth behind me. I thought of unicorns and then I thought of trolls, and then I remembered sunlight, and dawn, and pixies dancing, and registered I was seeing nothing but twilight and streetlights, and I started to run. I was too close to the veil to do anything else.
If it’s a troll, I thought, I’m toast. What if it’s something else? But I didn’t want to think about that; I just wanted to outdistance whatever it was that was tearing through the bottlebrush behind me.
I reached a streetlight and was glad to find pavement under my feet. Behind me, I heard a thump and a clatter followed by an angry shout, so I sprinted forward. Streetlights weren’t a problem. Things that go bump in the night, especially things that come charging out of elven forests, can be—and I didn’t want to stop and find out I’d been right.
The streets were wider than I remembered them, the warehouses gone, replaced by elegant, double-story apartments, but that wasn’t what had made me stop beneath the streetlight at the edge of the park. No, that had been the shuttle rising above the apartments about two blocks down. I heard someone call out behind me, and then footsteps.
“Wait!”
I kept running, and the footsteps picked up pace. Whoever it was called out again.
“Please wait.”
The ‘please’ almost did it, but the street was deserted, the streetlights too far apart—and I knew there were creatures that could mimic a human voice. I ran on, heading towards where I’d seen the shuttle rise.
“You’re hallucinating,” said the little voice in my head, but I ignored it.
If I was hallucinating, then I’d come to, eventually.
“Oh, God,” called the voice behind me, and it sounded more plaintive than ever. “Don’t leave me on my own.”
It was the ‘oh, God’ that did it. None of the creatures of the dark used that phrase. They called on specific deities, old deities, and that was if they called on them at all. I slowed down, taking a chance, and stopping in the cold, white glow of a street light.
I wasn’t taking thatmuch of a chance.
To my surprise, the thing following me was human, and he was loaded down like a pack mule. I watched as he passed under one of the street lights half a block down. He really washuman… and sort of familiar.
“Who areyou?” I asked, waiting as he came closer.
He looked like he was wearing a paramedic’s uniform.
“I gave you a blanket,” he said, and caught the blank look I gave him. “After the warehouse. You were in pretty bad shape, so I gave… you… a blanket.”
He stopped in front of me.
“Didn’t want shock setting in,” he finished lamely. “You don’t remember me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, you were pretty out of it, and the elf wouldn’t stop.”
That was one way to put it, but I didn’t want to remember. Man didn’t seem to recognise it, though.
“They said you were dead,” he said. “That you died in the fire. I tried contacting your department, but…”
I waited for his voice to peter out, then pointed to the extra pack he was dragging along by its straps.
“You want a hand with that?”
He glanced down as though remembering it.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. They let me grab some supplies. Said time moves differently in the other realm. This one’s yours.”
There was a roar from behind and slightly to the right of us, and I turned in time to see another shuttle lifting from behind the buildings. The medic stared at it, and I half-turned to follow his gaze.
“You are shitting me,” he said, his voice not much more than a breath, and I felt my world shudder.
“You saw that?” I asked.
“It was a bit hard to miss.”
“You mean I’m not high?” I pressed, and he looked at me, and shook his head.
“Like I said, time moves different in the Other Realm.” He paused, and I could see his face had gone a funny shade of grey. “Was that a space ship?”
I glanced up at the thing, let my eyes take in its shape and form, and then I looked back at him.
“Shuttle,” I said, and he stared at me, mouth agape.
“You knowwhat that is?”
I pushed back the sense of unreality threatening to overwhelm me, and nodded.
“Yup,” I said, trying to convince myself I was in control—that, maybe, I was on a movie set, a really sophisticated one. “That was a shuttle.”
The paramedic was having none of it.
“You’re telling me we’re in the future?”
“Yup,” I said, wishing we weren’t doing this, here, in the middle of the street, and that I had something to counteract the shock. “Let’s go find chocolate.”
“Chocolate?”
“I need chocolate,” I said, figuring the sugar would help both of us fight the shock. “They’ve got to have chocolate, right?”
“I… yeah. Chocolate.” He moved up beside me, dividing his attention between me and the sky.
I reached out and took the extra pack he’d brought, and we walked a few more steps in the direction of the buildings the shuttle had taken off from, and then he stopped again.
“You think they remember us?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Remy. Remy Black.”
I took a step, and he mirrored the movement, so I took another, and he kept coming. I breathed a sigh of relief, and kept us moving to where the shuttles came from. There was bound to be a police station there. Well, there should be one… or someone that knew where one was. Maybe this kind of thing had happened before, and someone would know how to deal with it. Maybe… I heard Remy’s steps start slowing down again, but I kept moving.
“You a paramedic, Remy?”
“Yeah. Where are we going?”
“I thought I’d drop in at the station. See if the POS is still around.”
“POS,” and he started to snicker. “You think they still call it that?”
This time, I stopped, and I turned, and I looked him in the eye.
“You better hope they do, Remy. Otherwise, we’re gonna have a helluva time explaining how we got here.”
He paled a bit, and then gestured at something behind me.
“Well, now’s your chance,” he said, and I turned back in time to see the two cops who’d come out of the building see me and Remy.
“You!” one shouted, and I grabbed hold of the urge to run.
Nothing makes a cop madder than if you make him run to catch you, and the pack I’d taken off Remy was heavy. Speaking of Remy, I glanced at him, ready to grab him if he made a break for it, but I didn’t need to. He was looking from the cop to me, and back again. Following his gaze, I realised he wasn’t the one they were talking to.
“Yes officer?”
“Hands where I can see them.”
I held my hands clear of my body, and they came closer. Remy had taken a step closer to me, his movement drawing attention.
“You! Don’t move.”
And Remy froze.
Their hands hovered over the guns at their hips, but they didn’t draw. I stood as still as I could, and waited. Beside me, Remy did the same. One stopped, and the other approached.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Officer Harper, and this is Officer Black.”
“Harper and Black,” said the officer who’d stood back from us, and I realised he was talking into a small, round badge on his collar. “Yeah. Black’s wearing a 21st century paramedic’s uniform, and Harper…” He glanced over. “She’s wearing the usual tunic and breeches.”
I watched the exchange, but didn’t move a muscle. ‘Usual tunic and breeches’ sounded like they did know how to deal with this kind of thing. Maybe that should have worried me. In fact, it didworry me, and I cast a quick glance over at Black. The frown on his face didn’t make me feel any better.
I glanced around the street, and the officer in front of me tensed. He reached out and grabbed my arm, just as the sound of a high-speed engine caught our ears.
“Inside!” he shouted, turning to drag me back towards the building we’d been heading towards.
“You, too!” his partner added, as a floating vehicle the size of a mini-van slid around a corner at the other end of the street. He took the two steps he needed to reach Remy and grab hold of him. “Come on!”
Neither of us argued. The guys we were following were in uniform; the minivan was a blue so dark it was almost black—and it had no markings. It made me wonder if it was this world’s equivalent of the white mini-vans used by so many murderers in our own time, but I didn’t stop to ask. We made it through the doors just as the vehicle drew parallel with the curb.
“Don’t stop,” ordered the officer who had a hold of my arm. “We’re not safe, yet.”
Which made me wonder why policemen had to run.
I didn’t have much time to think about that, as we ran through a mostly empty concourse lined by shops, travel agents, and duty-free stores. If I didn’t know any better, I would have said we’d made it to the airport—except Canterbury Park was nowhere near an airport, and there wouldn’t have been space to build one, back in my own world. Just exactly what had happened to bring the place to this?
I had so many questions, and a lot less time to ask them than I realised.
“What did we do?” I asked, as they ushered us into a holding cell, and took away our packs.
I thought about fighting for the pack, I honestly did, but we were in the holding cell by then, with one officer back up by the door, and the other one holding out his hand, and I thought better of it. No way either of us would reach the farthest one before he could draw and fire. I looked at Remy, and he looked back, gave me a shrug, and slipped his pack from his shoulders.
I followed suit, and we let the officer make it out of the cell without trying to get them back.
“Hey,” I said, as they locked the door behind him, and they looked up. “Got any chocolate?”
“Got any coins?”
Remy and I exchanged glances, then Remy patted his pockets, and I patted mine. We both knew the answer, but who could resist pulling a chain or two, when they’re world’s been pulled right out from under them? The officers didn’t bother staying for the show; they walked away, shaking their heads. I sighed. At least the holding cell was familiar… to me, anyway. I’d put enough people into one.
Which made me wonder some more. I looked at Remy, checked off shoes and laces, checked off his belt, guessed they didn’t think we were much of a suicide risk—or they didn’t care, either way. Remy sat himself down on the floor, leant back against the wall, and put his hands behind his head.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is so much better than where we were. Wonder how long they’ll keep us waiting?”
“At least there aren’t any trolls.”
I sat down on the opposite side of the cell, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes. I’d probably had enough sleep to last me a lifetime, but old habits die hard. Too many years of catching zees between ops and paperwork were kicking in, and I couldn’t think of anything better to do. There was no point asking Remy when we were. All he’d say was ‘time moves differently in the Other World’, and I knew that already.
We weren’t sitting there long. Once the door into the cell area had closed behind them, things settled into silence… and they took a while before they got noisy again. The door rattled open, and I opened my eyes. Remy opened his, and we shared a moment, while we decided if we could be bothered getting up to see what was going on. In the end, we decided to go back to looking like we were asleep.
I settled back against the wall and closed my eyes, and then opened them just enough to see Remy mirror me. And then we waited. I don’t think either of us were surprised when the footsteps coming down the corridor stopped right outside our cell, and then we were up on our feet before we could stop ourselves. Me, because I had sudden visions of a violent newcomer being added to our cage, and Remy, well, for whatever reason had him looking that hunted. We turned to face the bars.
“These are Officers Harper and Black. You can see from the way Harper’s dressed that she’s been in elven hands. We’re assuming that because they were together, they crossed at the same time, but we haven’t had time to question them, given how quickly you arrived.”
The patrolman who’d brought me in wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t sure I liked the looks of the company he was keeping. I exchanged a look with Remy, and we moved to stand, side by side, in the centre of the cell. The patrolman ignored us and continued with his spiel.
“From his uniform, and the records we’ve found, Officer Black is a paramedic from the twenty-first century, and we know Harper was involved in the Paranormal Operations Squad running at the time.”
This drew sudden interest from the men and women standing in the corridor, and I felt went from feeling uncomfortable to downright uneasy. Remy shuffled a little closer, until I could feel his shoulder close to mine. Whatever was coming, he was sticking with me… at least, I hoped that’s what that meant. I took the time to assess the patrolman’s companions.
Three men, two women, all hard edged and stone-faced. All as human as they come. I wondered if that was a good thing. The Squad had been bringing in elves as officers in my time. Pixies, too. But then, these guys and gals didn’t look like POS officers. They were paramilitary of some kind, each of them wearing the usual black fatigues I’d come to associate with mercenaries in the movies, and each of them just as armed. Had to admit, that last one surprised me a bit.
Back in the day, we’d never have let armed visitors into the cells. The patrolman’s next words caught me by surprise.
“So, you interested?”
I watched as the leader pretended nonchalance, looking us over with the bland, bored look of someone hiding how they really felt. The look, though, that was pure professional assessment, kinda like a sergeant inspecting potential troops. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be found lacking, or to meet with his approval. The world sure was turning fast.
I was glad of Remy’s shoulder against mine.
“Could be,” the guy said, “but it depends on how much you’re asking.”
“Harrogates is offering the standard.”
“Harrogates are a pack of butchers.”
The patrolman shrugged, glanced over at us and back up at him.
“I don’t set the price,” he said, “but I’m sure you could do with another medic.”
Now, I was torn. I might not be a medic, but I didn’t like the sound of this Harrogates outfit.”
“Do we get a say?” I asked, and the patrolman shot me a nasty look.
“You say any more, and it’ll be the last thing you do say for a very long while. You can go out upright, or in a box.”
I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. Sonuvagun looked like he meant it, even if I couldn’t quite see how he was going to back it up. I settled for raising my eyebrows at him, and giving him my most doubting stare. It didn’t quite say ‘bring it, little man,’ but it was darn close. One of the women, behind him, smiled.
It was fast, a flash of approval that came and went so quick I almost missed it.
“Harrogates don’t have to know,” the leader said, just as we heard the door to the corridor open.
They turned to look. We tried to peer around the corner, without moving any closer to the bars. It was like being at the zoo, with the lions on the outside of the cage… or the sale yards with buyers looking on, but I was trying not to think of that.
“Garrett.” The mercenary leader was clearly not pleased, and the newcomer wasn’t alone—he had two medics and a box following in after.
“Brant.” Obviously, the feeling was mutual, but Garrett wasn’t going to let that get in the way of business. “We’ll let you have the medic, but we want to the investigator.”
“We’ll outbid you for both.”
“I doubt it.”
“Care to tell me why?”
Yeah, I thought, realising he wasn’t asking why he’d be outbid, but why Garrett’s crowd was after me. Tell me why.
“Reports have her as dying in a fire, but there’s another one that said he saw an elf take her, alive, from the warehouse, and that she was badly burnt.”
I remembered, felt the blood leave my face, couldn’t help glancing down at my hands. Garret kept talking, though, like none of them had noticed what I’d done—except they were all looking through the bars, right at me.
“Well, I don’t see a mark on her, do you?”
The merc leader, Brant, made a show of looking me over, and I resisted the urge to hold my hands up for inspection. There was no point in being too cooperative. Besides, if Garrett, or either of those medics came anywhere near me, they were going to get a good close look, anyway—at my fist.
When Brant shook his head, Garrett continued.
“We want to see what the residual of druid magic looks like.”
I saw Brant cast a quick glance at me, saw him swallow, hard, as he turned his gaze back to Garrett.
“We need an investigator with her experience,” he admitted, and I saw the patrolman’s face take on a look of calculating greed.
Garrett shrugged.
“You’ll find someone else.”
“We have priority.”
Garrett cast a self-satisfied look at the patrolman.
“Not today, you don’t.”
“But you already know what the residual looks like. I’ve seen the reports.”
“What can I say? You can’t have too much of a good thing.”
Brant tossed me a quick glance, and Remy nudged me in the ribs. I nodded. This could go all to hell on us, but I wasn’t leaving with Garrett without a fight—and then several things happened at once.
Brant said, “But…”
And Garrett cut him off.
“It’s non-negotiable.”
To which Brant replied, “So, negotiate this!” and slugged Garrett so hard he was out cold on the floor before anyone could blink.
Except Brant’s crew, two of which shot Garrett’s companions before they could drop the box, and one of which had a good hold on the patrolman who’d been doing the sales pitch, the patrolman who was now very quiet as he spread his arms wide, and let one of the mercs take his keys.
Brant flipped Garret over onto his stomach and held out his hand to the other patrolman, who handed him the cuffs he’d been wearing on his belt, no questions asked. He’d gone a funny shade of pale and kept his hands up, while Brant’s crew went to work around him.
The cell door opened.
“Come on,” was an order and not a request, and Remy and I went.
The rhythm of the world had changed around us, but we could still choose some of the steps we had to take. These looked like the prelude to an interesting dance. Maybe we’d be able to find the rhythm.
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Harper's Choice is available as a stand-alone short story at the following links: books2read.com/u/31xPnn.
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