Chapter 15 Silva
Silva
The florist shop was at the grungy outskirts of downtown, on the opposite side of Bridgeton, far away from the bridge that led back to Cambric Creek.
It seemed strange that such otherworldly beauty was based here, in the tattered tails of boulevards that were prosperous only at their centers, the ragged edges like this showing signs of an economic promise that was never fulfilled.
The only businesses thriving in this part of Bridgeton were the sex shops, she thought ruefully, having passed them on her way in.
This part of the city was quiet this early in the day, giving her the opportunity to make up her mind in private on the empty sidewalk. Silva gazed up at the florist’s sign, wedged between a nail salon and a vape shop, wondering, not for the first time, if she was making a terrible mistake.
Evergreen by Bloomerang. The letters were hand-painted and flaking, the washed-out hue giving only a hint of the vibrant green they must have once been.
The windows were dim, not the riot of color she was used to from typical florist shops, and from the top gutter, the branches of a tree overtook the roof line.
Adrenaline was making her nearly vibrate, simultaneously eager to get this unsavory task over with and to succeed in finding out anything that would bring her closer. This is where she said to come. You’ve started down this path already; you can’t turn back now when you’ve come so far.
The smell hit her when she pulled open the door, the smell and the heat.
Green and damp, like the inside of a greenhouse in summer after a downpour.
There was a loaminess that made her nose twitch, a fractured memory of a glimmering little pond, the resulting rush of anxiety causing her hands to clench. It’s okay. We’re okay.
Flowers crowded every available surface.
Buckets lined the floor, filled with cut stems that seemed to almost shimmer.
Shelves climbed the walls, crammed with potted plants whose waxy green leaves barely seemed real, trailing vines that seemed to sway in a nonexistent breeze.
The colors were too vivid, the bright floral scents too cloying.
Everything in the shop, Silva understood, had come from the other side.
“Close the door,” a voice called from the back. “You’re letting the cold in.”
Silva quickly did as she was told, pulling the door shut, causing the little bell above to ding once more. A deep breath, and then she was crossing the floor, determined to take this next step. One step closer to bringing him home to us both.
The woman who emerged from the back room wasn’t what she was expecting.
Unlike the fae she’d met in Winter, this wisp nearly looked like a child.
She had a heart-shaped face and wide blue eyes, glowing against her sun-kissed skin.
Her hair bounced in blonde ringlets, held back by the green bandana she wore wrapped around her head.
“I’m the one who—”
“I know you are,” the wisp cut her off, her voice light and girlish. “You paid the deposit.”
Silva nodded. They had emailed, the conversation brief and to the point. The money had vanished from her account within minutes of sending it, nearly as much as her key had been. Easy come, easy go. If the access they’re selling were cheap, it wouldn’t be worthwhile.
Silva had been explicit in the email she’d sent to the address at the center of the plain white card.
She could not lose time. She wanted access to the other side, but she could not lose time.
She needed to enter and leave within the same twenty-four-hour period on her side, for she knew there was no way she would get lucky enough to explain away a month-long disappearance twice.
The flower market is what you want, was the response she received.
I can get you in, but it’s not free.
She had snorted in disgust at the response, huffing to herself. Of course it’s not. She missed the days when the most expensive thing on her shopping list was a half-gallon of roadside farmstand apple cider.
“You’re pregnant,” the florist observed, her eyes narrowing, taking Silva in.
“Yes? I-I didn’t think that would make—”
“It doesn’t. It does make things trickier, though. If you weren’t, you could just say you were curious. Harder to pretend you have no reason for browsing with a passenger. She smells like she belongs on that side already. You’ll need to tread carefully.”
The flower market, as it had been explained to her, was a liminal hallway, in between their two worlds. Ice water began to trickle through her veins. Silva felt her heart rate increase, felt a reverberation of it just beneath her own. “Will-will she be in danger? I thought you said it was safe?”
The wisp shrugged, smiling sunnily. “Oh, you’ll both be in danger.
That’s a given. Spring is a beautiful place.
You’ll want to stay, and it will let you.
And that’s where it gets . . . expensive.
I said you wouldn’t lose time. That’s not the same as safety.
” Another sweet smile, her golden curls bouncing as she shook her head reproachfully, as if Silva were a misbehaving child.
“These aren’t the kinds of mistakes you can afford to make in there, sweetling.
Don’t linger, and don’t take anything you didn’t explicitly ask for.
Ensure your questions receive actual answers. You’ll pay the balance either way.”
Spring borrows what Autumn will collect. Silva swallowed hard. This was a mistake. She already knew he wasn’t here. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to leave right then and there. It wasn’t too late to turn back. But they might have information. You might be so close . . .
The florist led Silva through a curtain of dried herbs, pulling open the door to a flower cooler. This wisp possessed the same whip-like tail as the friendlier counterpart she’d met in Winter, secured against her back by the apron she wore, its tip cinched with a green bow that matched her bandana.
The back of the shop was narrower, cluttered with crates and supplies. Inside was a narrow hallway, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. They hummed in a way that made her wince.
“This isn’t the market.”
“No,” the girl agreed. “It’s the hallway. This is the point where you decide whether you’re going, sweetling.”
She swayed where she stood, feeling as though she were standing at the precipice of a bottomless void.
She was Orpheus, the Elvish hero of myth, standing at the mouth of the underworld, seeking her lost love.
It’s not too late to turn back. You have other priorities now.
What are you going to do if you don’t make it out?
What are you going to do if something happens to her while you’re there?
She didn’t have answers to any of the questions that had been running through her head on a constant loop for the past several days, since her meeting with Evony. Now she was out of time. Time to leap or leave.
All she knew, Silva thought, was that she felt more confident on this path, surer of what she was doing, than she had since the beginning. The confidence scared her more than anything else. She wasn’t sure if it was actually hers, or something she’d picked up, like a cold.
But what if you give up now, and he’s right there on the other side of those doors? If you quit, that’s it. There’s no saving him.
Silva flattened her palm against the swell of her stomach, feeling the baby turn.
Her little wing was afraid. She could taste it on the back of her tongue, sharp and acrid.
It’s all right. We’re all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.
They were all right, right now. She didn’t know if they still would be once she stepped through this door, didn’t know if she could keep that promise.
And yet here you are, still planning on doing it.
Silva put one toe over the lip of the cooler. “I know you can’t guarantee our safety, but this-this isn’t the court. Right?”
“The hallway is the in-between. The threshold. Once you step through, don’t hesitate.
Doorways don’t like hesitation. If you doubt yourself, it will remember.
You’re giving that as a gift, and it might be used against you later on.
” The girl shrugged almost cheerfully. “Fair’s fair, after all.
The hallway leads to the market. This isn’t the court.
You’re not in Spring yet, not fully. You can look without making commitments here.
But do not mistake courtesy with charity. The answers you seek won’t be free.”
The buzzing fluorescents combined with the sickly green paint gave the short corridor a tight, tunnel-like quality. Pursing her lips, Silva stepped fully over the lip into the hallway. No hesitation.
“Nothing is free with you fucking people.”
The hallway stretched longer than it should have. As she walked, Silva could feel the walls closing in, ever so subtly. There was a pressure behind her eyes, and the air seemed to waver before her as she neared the door, reality thinning as it swung open.
On the other side, it was early morning. The sky was the soft yellow glow of a candle, the dawn sun just stretching her thready golden fingers over the horizon. She could hear the chirp of birds, a dawn chorus, giving the scene before her an almost storybook feel.
Before her, the market spilled out in every direction.
Row after row of tables lined up beneath canvas awnings strung with softly glowing lights, despite the early morning hour.
The tables sagged beneath the almost aggressive abundance of flowers they held — flowers of every color piled high, buckets overflowing, petals spilling to the ground, being crushed underfoot and releasing their sharp, sweet odor. It was beautiful.