Chapter 5 Silva #4
“Okay, so . . . winter, right? You just need to open a door that leads to what winter is. What remains. Unlock the door to what remains. That’s it, I can’t give you more than that.
I can’t be a part of whatever this is,” he raised his hand, gesturing at Silva as if she were standing before him wearing a barrel with a goose on her head.
“But again — that’s a dangerous choice. That’s the front door of the court. ”
“Open the door that leads . . . to what remains. That’s it?”
He shrugged again. “Miss, I’m absolutely telling you that you should not do that. But yes. That’s it.”
“And a Wisp is . . .?”
He rolled his eyes, pulling his glasses off for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose before replacing the heavy black frames.
“The Wisps have passage. Their own passage. But like I said, it’s not as if folks who have an inside track to Faerie’s backyard are announcing that over Sunday dinner.
You’re not going to find a Wisp. The doors .
. . they’re not hard to find. They’re everywhere. ”
“But why would they be —” Silva cut in, still not understanding any of what she’d been told.
“Because why wouldn’t they be?” he interrupted in turn, his hands spreading expansively.
“What would be the point in having just a few portals of entry? Do you know how inconvenient that would be? If you’re doing business down south and you have to schlep all the way back to some holler in the mountains just to get home? ”
Portals themselves are common enough; they can be anything.
She had read that online, one of the ramblings she had dismissed.
Dismissed because you didn’t understand it.
What else did they say that’s true? He must have seen the shocked confusion on her face, for instead of continuing, the man pulled off his glasses again, dragging a hand down his face.
“Miss, just . . . please don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking about doing.
I can’t imagine how you got mixed up in all this, but whoever sent you down this path is not your friend.
Something’s going to eat you. You’re too naive for this.
To be honest, I’m surprised something hasn’t eaten you already if this is the kind of shocked stupor you go wandering around in regularly.
You’re definitely going to get eaten over there.
They have things that will actually eat you, so, like . . . don’t.”
She nearly choked on her own still-teary laugh.
“I don’t have a choice,” she whispered. “But I appreciate the warning. I think.” Silva swallowed hard, laying her hands down on the countertop to steady herself before continuing.
“There are many doors of entry,” she said slowly, trying to make it all come together in her head, “but not many keys. Certain keys open specific doors? And there are doors . . . because they’re still here.
They’ve never not been here.” Perhaps he hadn’t been so unusual after all.
“And just talking about this in the middle of the business day is a normal occurrence for you, so it’s not that unusual at all. ”
“I assure you; this is not an okay topic to be shooting the shit about on a random Tuesday,” he gritted out. “This should have been a private appointment. Now you’ve got my business closed in the middle of the day.”
“Well, it’s not like you had a line to get in, did you?” Silva snapped. She glared when he chuckled again.
“Anyway. Passage is granted to only a select few. The Wisps, as I mentioned. Sure, others have probably figured out a backdoor hack to do some trading. There’s always going to be someone willing to hold a door open if they get a cut of the bag, you know what I mean?
But no, they’re not just walking down the street.
” The man’s voice dropped again, all traces of sarcastic levity gone.
“And if you think humans and otherkin have a hard time living with each other here, you have no idea how much everyone on the Otherside hates everyone else there. This is unbelievably dangerous shit.” His voice remained serious as he clicked open his pen.
“Please change your mind. But . . . regardless of what you decide, if you want to sell your key, which you should, before someone shanks you for it in your sleep, I’m willing to take it off your hands for a very fair price. ”
Silva closed her eyes, dipping her head back, outrage nearly choking her.
She felt light-headed, realizing she’d not yet eaten that day.
You weren’t even supposed to be here. She was meant to be at home, had needed to throw a tantrum to get Tannar to agree to let her come, and she hadn’t even had a good reason.
It is fortuitous that this came into our possession so soon after your inquiry.
Silva couldn’t help but feel that she was being directed, a marionette once more, back in her puppet play, but she had no idea who was controlling her strings.
Fate. This is fate. Because you’re meant to be together. Fated mates.
She had a key, and now she had a door. Well. Nearly. Her eyes opened, narrowing. “I’m supposed to sell you my extremely illegal, rare, and valuable key, and all you’re giving me is ‘what remains.’ Is that it?”
“It’s not subtle,” he insisted. “And neither are the doors. They are not subtle.” He leaned forward across the counter, cat eyes narrowed to slits once more, nearly hypnotizing her.
“The doors want to be opened. The keys want to be used. The veil is an unnatural thing. It breaks the laws of magic and nature. It wants a hole to be found.”
His tone made her shiver.
“And how do you know all this?” she asked, her own voice barely a whisper.
His smile was glinting and sharp, long canines catching the light. “Because my kind is from the other side. We are also an unnatural thing.”
He straightened up, and the spell was broken. Silva took a step back, the room swaying around her.
“The doors want to be opened, and the keys want to find their locks,” he continued in his normal voice.
“But you will not be able to keep it. I don’t know if you were told that, but selling it as quickly as you can is genuinely the smartest course of action, because you will lose it, either by accident or by force.
So, here’s what we’re going to do.” His hand moved over the ledger from beneath the counter, flipping it open to a fresh page.
“You’re going to give me your info, and I’m going to give you my card.
Text me the location of the key, and once it’s safely in my possession, I will wire you the money. ”
“I very much doubt that,” she shot back, parroting his earlier sarcasm, but he threw up his hands in offense.
“Look, I'm a well-regarded procurer by trade with an excellent rating on Squawk. My word is my bond, I swear it.”
The price he offered made her snort, a full third less than what she’d paid, but Silva didn’t see another choice.
She hadn’t expected to get any of her money back, so even a pittance of it was something.
When she handed over her driver’s license for him to record her information, something on the identification card made him stop, tapping a long, claw-like nail on the countertop for a moment before continuing.
“You share a zip code with a contemporary of mine,” he said slowly, his voice a titch too casual to truly be casual, she thought. “Is that where you acquired your . . . rare and valuable piece?”
Silva smiled sardonically, the headache behind her eye slowly making its reappearance.
She needed to eat, needed to lie down. And now he wants to be chatty.
Figures. “Don’t forget illegal. And no, I don’t live there anymore and I haven’t been back in some time.
But let me guess, now you’re going to call your friend and have him slit my throat while I’m sleeping and take my key, so you can split the money for it, right? ”
He gave her another glinting grin as he passed a card over the countertop.
A business card, stapled to a decorative postcard.
“There’s the Karen we know and love. Try not to get eaten, k?
Pleasure doing business with you, eventually.
And if there’s anything else you need, you have my card. I’ll be eagerly awaiting your text.”
Silva found a snug little bistro a bit further up the same road, booths with high backs, allowing her to tuck in securely without fear of being watched.
She was brought a glowing, hot slab of salt to cook the strips of raw beef upon.
Silva smiled at the server, assuring the goblin she knew what she was doing, and then devoured each strip raw, using a small, dainty slice from her bread loaf to soak up any of the bloody remains.
This couldn’t go on. She needed an answer from someone, and there was no one she could ask.
It was only a matter of time before she was caught, barefoot in her nightgown, face smeared in blood as she ripped into a raw steak with her teeth.
The man in the shop was so sure she would be eaten, but little did he know, elves had a long and bloody history of being vicious hunters and warlords.
The Otherworld had better watch itself if I’m there at lunchtime.
She turned the card over, eyeing the strange name. Pyewacket. He hadn’t been especially helpful. She had a key, she had a way to sell her key, but she still didn’t have the door she so desperately needed.
Why then did she feel a buzzing vibration in her veins, an eagerness to go back to her empty house and friendless existence, as if she had something to accomplish there when she did?
Silva let herself rest against the seat back, allowing her eyes to close and her hand to drift to her bumpless stomach once more.
We’re going to be okay. She would have a quiet, restful night at the hotel, she decided.
She’d get takeout and maybe room service dessert, watch a movie, and then go to bed early, before Tannar returned.
She turned the postcard over once more, after she’d paid for her illicit lunch, noticing the stylized poem along the watercolor painting.
The sun sets low
And the river runs free,
What remains after you’ve left me.
It was a graveyard, painted in a soft, muted palette, warmed by the red smear of a setting sun. What remains. Silva sat up. Unlock the door to what remains. Portals themselves are common enough; they can be anything.
She needed to get home. To the place that would never, ever be home, not her true home.
Nothing would be home without him. But the benefit of living in flyover farmland, she had learned in the six months of her marriage, half of the longest year of her life, was that there was no shortage of graveyards, and her key was equally desperate to find its way home as well.