Gatewright, p.1
Gatewright, page 1
Gatewright
By J.M. Blaisus
© 2016 J.M. Blaisus
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Bailey Elizabeth Higgins
www.baileyelizabeth.com
For my incredible parents, Mary and Steve Malicki. Thank you.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter One
How would I react if I was exiled from my homeland and my best friend got to tour it? I hesitated before pressing “dial” on my cell, euphoria transforming into anxiety. My heart still pounded, but I couldn’t make that call. I took the coward’s way out and sent a text instead. [I need to talk to you, in person. Preferably tonight.]
I waited for a moment for a reply, took a deep breath, then put the phone with its cracked screen in my pocket. I frowned, determined to keep my hands busy while I waited. My living room certainly deserved some TLC… stacks of class notebooks and textbooks were scattered across the wooden floor. I’d graduated with my Master of Science in Interdimensional Life five months ago, a span of time that should have been plenty to organize my things, considering I only had a part time job at the game store.
I flipped through the old blue notebook I’d used for Fey Influence & Exo-Anthropology, scanning my carefully structured classroom notes framed in doodles, ideas, notes to myself, and surreptitious notes to my classmates. I couldn’t imagine the exact scenario where I’d need this, but I couldn’t bear to toss it, either. I heaved a sigh and put it back on its pile. This is why nothing ever got clean. Was I in the very early stages of hoarding? Or did I finally just own enough stuff to notice?
My iPhone saved me from further contemplation of my bad habits by vibrating in my pocket. [Everything ok?]
[Yeah, just need to talk.] I typed back.
He responded instantly. [My studio’s a biohazard right now. Unless you want to wear a gas mask or get really high, I’d recommend Ahromah. I can be there in 15.]
[C u there ^.^]
I stuffed my feet into orange flip-flops and threw on my old varsity jacket against the October chill of Virginia. I really needed to start dressing myself like an adult. Wasn’t that what a Master’s meant, that I was an adult now? I grabbed the letter causing all my turmoil from the coffee table on my way out.
Within the short drive to the coffee shop, the town transformed from blue-collar suburbia to bustling college town with vintage clothing shops, pizza parlors, bars, and numerous coffee shops. Parking for Ahromah could be a tricky business, with the one-way streets and parallel parking. Luckily, I knew a secret parking lot meant for the building’s tenants, hidden down an unmarked alley. No sign threatened visitors with towing, or perhaps a less honest individual had done away with them years ago. Either way, I helped myself to a spot. Such was the reward for more or less having lived in Charlottesville my whole life, what we natives tended to call “shawsville” in our slight Southern drawl.
The late afternoon sun hid behind layers of grey, depressing clouds. At least it didn’t look like rain. I hustled around the building, jacket held tight against the cold. Ahromah’s door chimed politely as I entered. Soft light illuminated small tables and chairs, an impressive number of knickknacks hanging from the decorative wood framing that gave character to the brick square of a shop. Jack sat comfortably on the squishy brown couch against the back wall, where we’d first met four years ago. I’d been in my final year of undergraduate study at the University of Virginia, studying a book by a prominent fey author that caught his eye. He’d asked how it was, and actually had the knowledge to keep up with my tangents about fey culture and politics. We’d been friends ever since.
I detoured to the counter, where a good line had already developed for a Thursday evening. I ordered a double espresso over ice (“for here, please”), waived hello to Lisa, a former classmate, and joined Jack on the couch. He was in his late 30s, so it seemed, with shiny black hair that reached past his shoulders. His features were vaguely Native American, and his Western style of dress seemed to try to make a point of it. I swear, he was one bad day away from wearing spurs, but he’d be damned if we ever caught him with a cowboy hat. He smelled vaguely of aerosol, and I wondered what his latest project entailed.
His bright emerald eyes were the only indicator that he was at least part fey. Their unblinking intensity made me suspect he’d recently been spending time near the gate. When the gates to Azry first opened around the world, humans had called the visitors ‘elves’ and ‘Sidhe’ and ‘fairies’ and ‘fey’, just as when Columbus discovered the New World and called the Native Americans ‘Indians’. ‘Fey’ stuck, probably because it was the shortest. Even the Azry had given up and called themselves ‘fey’ to prevent further confusion. And it more likely than not that the Azry were the source of all those myths. Not that any of them had admitted that, of course.
“What’s up?” he asked, concerned yet relaxed despite how quickly he’d arrived. His melodic accent was the second clue that he was more than part fey, and one that most people missed. Did he run here?
“You probably won’t believe this,” I said, and drew out the carefully folded envelope out of my coat pocket. The white paper had about three times as many stamps as was appropriate for its light weight, with my name, “Jan Leeman”, and address in child-like handwriting. The postman had misread the apartment number (#10 instead of #16) and given it my elderly neighbor, Eleanor. By the time she both had checked her mailbox and had given the letter to me, a week had passed. Of course, she also graciously shared with me a long explanation of how great the postal service used to be “in her day”.
This morning felt eons ago. I hadn’t had the chance to open the letter until after a long, annoying day at work, so the poor letter had endured being stuffed into my coat pocket, acquired three tell-tale coffee rings (I did not have a caffeine problem), and stained from a leaking tube of pink lip gloss in my purse. Plus, it still smelled like the lavender perfume that permeated Eleanor’s apartment. My coat pocket had been safer.
Jack frowned at the damage and opened it as if it were made of tissue paper. As soon as he started reading, his eyes widened, and his face slowly closed up on me. I felt my stomach drop even further. I had no idea how to measure our friendship against this opportunity. Was I willing to sacrifice one for the other?
He finished the letter, but said nothing, going back to the top and tracing his finger along the paper. He quietly read, “It is with the greatest pleasure, in light of your record of high scholastic achievement and contributions in the field of Interdimensional Travel and Relations, that we are able to offer you a place in the first guided tour of Azry, to begin the 28th of October.”
“I don’t know why they picked me, I never asked,” I blurted.
He chuckled, and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “I’m surprised they’re letting anyone in. I’m guessing enough fey have enjoyed the pleasures of the human world as tourists by this point that they’re starting to want to get some human tech on their side, and that wouldn’t happen without humans actually building and maintaining in Azry.”
“Why wouldn’t the fey just learn here? We could set up a university in the Outer Circle.” The Outer Circle was entertainment and novelty for fey. Nice and enclosed to keep the crazy humans out. Humans kept the area safe by making sure that everyone allowed into the area had a pass, which could be obtained either through the U.S. Department of Interdimensional Affairs or a qualifying business on the site. Like a Visa.
He wrinkled his nose. “Trust me, there are reasons.”
I sighed. Jack could enlighten one moment, and stonewall the next. He kept me on my toes. And curious. And asking questions.
He finished reading the letter for the second time. “They didn’t give you a lot of time, either. Two weeks? Humans are remarkably slow preparing for expeditions.” His nose twitched and he held the letter a little further from his face. “How long did this stay with your neighbor?”
“A week. But… I was worried that you’d be upset.”
His face darkened. “Yes, now that you mention it, I’m thrilled you get to visit and that I’m barred from ever seeing my home again. Thank you for the reminder.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
My throat tightened. I wanted this trip, more than I’d ever wanted anything before. But if it ruined my relationship with Jack… sixteen days in Azry vs. years of friendship? He saw my expression and his tense anger softened. “It’s not your fault. And I recognize that. But I am… apprehensive… about this. Fey don’t like visitors. You know this, you’ve been studying us for years. There’s something about this that is…” he searched for th e word, “unsettling. Dangerous, even.”
I tried to be optimistic. “Perhaps there’s finally enough popular fey support that the Queens had to start thinking ahead to a stronger relationship with humankind.”
“I wish it worked like that.” He gently placed his hand on my arm. “But I’d rather not find out that it’s a trap. Especially with you.” His lips tightened. “I wish like hell I could go with you to watch your back. Of course, it would give them all a heart attack to see me.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “That alone would make it worth it.”
“Double espresso over ice?” A perky brunette offered me a steaming cup of black deliciousness.
“Thanks, Suzanne.” I sipped, pleased it was already at the right temperature.
“Jan, I don’t know how you do it.” Jack made a face. “No cream, no sugar. It’s beyond me.” He grew serious and considered me. “If anyone was to help build bridges with Azry, it would be you. You know, you might be the first human to ever officially be their guest.”
“Officially?” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“The Druids kept doing that changeling thing till they got caught by the Council of Queens. They have a bizarre human fetish. The Anowir may have stolen people from time to time, but they usually gave them back. The Anowir better keep up the habit, and make sure that you get back in one piece.”
The Anowir were the local, ruling collection of clans in Azry. By default, the land that they possessed held their name. No linguistic delineation existed between Anowir, the people, and Anowir, their land. Or Anowir, their language. Learning it had been a headache and a half. Few words, odd grammar, much of the understanding purely contextual. Half of my graduate school classes had been dedicated to the language alone.
I nodded. “I’ll come back and write a book about it, become a millionaire, and then retire in the Outer Circle.” My private fantasy, to live among the fey with all the pleasures of humankind.
“As long as you share the wealth,” he teased, but the sadness in his eyes refused to leave. The sadness was not new, he just hid it more successfully at times. Now was not one of them. As Jack handed the letter back to me, the envelope caught his eye. “You know, I think the fey tried to mail this from the Circle. Look at the handwriting.”
I giggled into my espresso. “And the stamps! So many stamps!”
Chapter Two
Refreshed after a solid night’s sleep, I wondered if the whole thing might be a cruel prank: the letter had no return address and no contact number. Lucky for me, I knew who to call. Though, “DIDA” didn’t sound nearly as sexy as “Ghostbusters”.
At 9am sharp, I dialed the Department of Interdimensional Affairs (DIDA). I’d interned with them for three months, full time, the summer before I graduated with my Master’s. Half of my work had been stereotypical: filing papers, making coffee, and setting up meetings. The other half had been fascinating: summarizing lengthy requests from Exiles, researching individuals applying for Outer Circle permits, and creating tourism information packets for fey visitors.
I’d gotten some attention when I’d streamlined the request process for Exiles by redesigning the form to conform to Anowir logic. Jack had pointed out to me how hard the form had been for even him to fill out, and we’d worked together to improve it. I’d even added little voiceovers in Anowir describing what exactly the form was looking for. We’d reduced confused calls by 40%. I probably would have gotten a job out of it, too, if it wasn’t for budget cuts.
The mechanical voice welcomed me. I pressed ‘3’ for the administrative offices, avoiding the runaround associated with ‘1’ for Exile-related issues or ‘2’ for Circle passes.
Kelsey, as usual, answered the phone, and didn’t believe me when I told her about the letter. My stomach started to sink. This was a prank, wasn’t it? I tried to imagine which of my friends would have been behind it. Maybe Shawn, my ex. I’d thought we’d broken up on relatively good terms, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d misjudged him.
“Can you ask Briana?” I insisted. Briana always knew what was going on.
Kelsey sighed loudly into the phone, ensuring I knew what a terrible inconvenience I was. “Fine. I’ll check if she’s even here.” She put me on hold. Apparently, DIDA’s reduced unwelcome phone calls by placing the least pleasant person as the general contact. Or, being the general contact transformed an otherwise congenial lady into a bitter, grumpy bitch. I would hate to find out… I wanted to work there full-time. If I didn’t retire a millionaire first. Maybe I’d just contract with them.
“Jan?” Briana picked up. “I’m between meetings. What do you need?”
“Have you heard anything about a trip to Azry?” I asked tentatively.
“There was never any official release about it here, so I assumed it wasn’t happening. How did you hear about it?”
When I’d finished telling her about the letter, I heard muffled curses, then she spoke politely into the phone. “Let me get you to someone who knows what’s going on.” Her anger was gone as quickly as it had come. I’m not sure whether her unusual temper was a gift, or just downright unsettling. Or both.
She put me on hold, and I stayed there. And stayed there. I picked at my fingers, then rifled through my cabinets for breakfast. I’d given up hope when my phone suddenly came back to life, and I almost choked on my cereal.
“Jan, this is Deputy Director Kim Hyun.” His voice was warm yet professional.
“Good morning, sir,” I coughed out. Kim was famous for coming up with inventive solutions to fey/human points of conflict. He’d been with Homeland Security in the early days of the negotiation process, and transferred to DIDA when the government created the agency a year later. He had publicly insisted that the Exiles were not to be interfered with, and I secretly wished that I would be like him when I grew up.
He continued, “This is the real deal. We knew the candidates had received letters, but we never received the final list of who the fey selected. I’m pleased you are going.”
“So DIDA’s not behind this?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being rude.
“Not exactly.” Kim didn’t sound very happy about being kept in the dark. “We provided a list of candidates based on their criteria, and they took it from there. In addition, we helped guide them on what activities humans generally do on tours and what might alarm them. Beyond that, the fey have not communicated.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for putting me on the list!”
“I’ll be seeing you soon, then. I’m also going.”
My shoulders relaxed with tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Kim could handle any fey situation we ran into with grace. Plus, it gave me the opportunity to pick his brain to pieces. Maybe even get myself a job while I was at it, if I managed to impress him enough. “I’m so glad! Any packing suggestions?”
He didn’t have anything to suggest that I hadn’t already packed at least one of. I thanked him profusely for his time before we hung up. This was actually happening. And the fey didn’t really seem to care one way or the other about DIDA. Typical.
Confident I wasn’t being pranked, I invited my best friend and partner in crime to my apartment with cryptic, teasing text messages. [Rose, I have super big news. I just told my parents. I want to tell you in person.]
[I’m @ work. ur the worst] she kindly replied.
[When do you get off?]
[that’s what she said! gimme an hour.]
Rose burst into my apartment almost two hours later like she owned the place. Wispy blonde hair framed a cherub-like face, accented with pink lipstick and dimples. Her cornflower-blue eyes were wide. “Are you pregnant?” she exclaimed, half horrified and half thrilled.
“Nope, not it!” I grinned at her from where I sat cross-legged on the couch, in the middle of my Ramen lunch. “Two more guesses.”
She plopped down beside me. “Did you get a new job?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “One more.”
She searched the ceiling for ideas. “Did you get back together with Shawn or are you dating Jack?”
I counted on my fingers. “One, that’s two questions. Two, Shawn is never happening again. Three, Jack isn’t interested, and neither am I.” I pouted at her. “Come on, you of all people know that.”
