The One Called X
Angstmaster
"That'll be eight-thirty-two." The cashier waited a moment for the young woman to respond. She didn't, instead gazing fixedly at a point somewhere behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the same old cigarette cartons. He turned back, frowning. "Miss? Are you all right?"
She started, looking down at the counter as though it took great effort to look away. "S-sorry. I- um. Long day. Brain's all- y'know. Um. Sorry." She fumbled for her wallet. She kept glancing at the wall behind him as she paid for her orange juice and beef jerky. The cashier shook his head. College students were an odd lot. She mumbled a thank you when he handed her her bag, and for a moment he thought she might say something more. She didn't leave the shop so much as flee.
It wasn't a significant or memorable interaction, in the scheme of things. Odd types were part and parcel of working the night shift, after all. One of those things you stopped thinking about after a while, just like the broken fan that never turned off and the three cartons- never more, never less- of Virginia Slims that went inexplicably missing every month without fail.
Cora shivered a little, and did her best to look casual as she walked away from the corner store. She shouldn't have stared, she knew. It was just- she'd never seen so many before, and never all in once place, and never stealing cigarettes, of all things. She wondered if she'd done the right thing, leaving without saying anything, but- well, what could she have said? Pardon me, sir, but there's a gang of invisible gnomes smoking behind you. That was the sort of thing that made people assume you were on drugs. And anyway- Talking. To people. It was always an awful, paralyzing prospect, and adding Creatures to the mix just made it worse.
And besides- they didn't seem to have any interest in him, and it was always best not to invite the Creatures to take interest in her. It was a hard-learned lesson. She'd try to talk to them, in her childhood, because she hadn't known that they were Other. She'd assumed everyone saw them. Her parents had assumed that she'd had a huge and ever-changing bevy of imaginary friends. The crying fits and bruises had been chalked up to bullying. Mercurial, the Creatures were, prone to cruelty. It wasn't until her father's mother came to live with them that she'd learned.
"Listen well now, lass. You've got the sight, same as me, same as all Lennox women. You mind what I say and never forget, and it'll keep you safe even long after I'm gone."
And Cora had minded her Nan's lessons, even when it made her parents worry that her head was too far in the clouds, and it had kept her safe. Odd, yes, nervous and twitchy and lonely, but safe. No more bites and pinches from fractious pixies, no more impossible tangles in her hair for some esoteric breach of elven etiquette. Most of the time, the Creatures didn't know she could see them, which suited Cora just fine. That was, after all, lesson number one- you won't catch their attention if they don't know they've caught yours.
Cora quickened her steps and fished her orange juice out of the bag. It was a warm night by autumn standards, but still- she wanted to be in her apartment, behind a closed door and a salt line. She could phone Nan then. She had no real friends- it was impossible to explain herself fully to anyone, so it was best to avoid the possibility of questions altogether- but Nan understood. They were kindred spirits. They even looked alike, going by Nan's old pictures. Cora might have been dark-skinned and dark-haired and coltishly long-limbed, but she shared the wild curls, hazel eyes, freckles and delicate features. And a predilection for silver jewelry.
Pure silver. Always. Never to be removed, not even in the shower. Cold iron was poison to unnatural things on contact, but they couldn't even touch a person who wore silver. It's one of the few things that Cora knew for certain. Everything was conjecture, really- picking out facts from legend and folklore was a bit like trying to piece together an accurate history of Italy from Shakespeare's plays- but in all her life, Nan had never encountered a Creature that could push through the protection of silver. It was a comfort, the quiet clinking of her charm bracelet, reminding her that when all else failed, she had one last foolproof defense.
Cora fumbled with the cap of the orange juice, frowning. They were always closed so tightly, and the condensation made it slippery. She was nearly home, at least, and she began to relax as she approached the gate of her apartment complex. There were plenty of streetlights, and the nearby cluster of trees was far enough from the sidewalk that the thick underbrush wasn't overly unsettling, even at night. She put the bottle of juice back into her plastic bag and began to fumble in the pockets of her too-big hoodie for her keys- and then she froze, listening. She was sure she'd heard something. And sure enough, she heard it again- a whining, like an animal in pain. A dog, she thought, near the treeline. She bit her lip, indecision rooting her to the spot. It was late, there was no one around- what if it was aggressive? There would be no one to help. But if she called for help and waited, it might crawl off into the woods, where they might not be able to find it. She dug out her phone and turned on the flashlight, peering into the darkness, and then- just inside the copse. She saw it.
A dog, yes. A dog with eyes that glowed crimson, with fur as green as moss, with the unmistakable aura of something Other. Cora tensed. She should go. It was a Creature, and no good would come of interfering with it. Even if some Creatures really were just animals like any other. She'd already paid too much attention to it.
The dog whined again, weaker this time. It was a small thing, and its paws were large and awkward. It had the look of a puppy. And Cora could see, just barely, that something was wrapped around its neck. She swallowed hard. She couldn't just leave it to suffer. But- the silver. She'd have to take off the silver. It would be all right, surely, to remove for just a little while. She could help the dog and then put it back on right away. She set down her bag, and with a deep, bracing breath, unclasped the bracelet. She tucked it carefully into the bag.
She shivered when she stepped out of the yellow light of the streetlamps. The little patch of trees and undergrowth had seemed almost civilized from the safety of the sidewalk, but now, lit only by her phone's flashlight, it all seemed- bigger. Wilder. At least the dog was close. It tried to lift its head, whimpering, but soon gave up. She knelt beside it.
"Oh, poor thing," Cora murmured. It had, apparently, gotten itself stuck in a piece of steel fencing. The iron was eating into its skin. Cora felt a lump in her throat. "I- I think this might hurt, I'm sorry." She managed to work her fingers in between the wire and the dog's skin, suppressing a wince at its yelping. It was too weak to struggle, which was lucky- Cora was able to work the fencing over the puppy's head without having to fight the animal, though it whined so pathetically that she was near tears by the time it was free.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry, you're free now." The puppy quieted, panting harshly. It stretched out its neck and licked her hand. Cora sobbed in relief as the angry red marks left by the iron began to fade. "See? All better now." She stroked its fur gently, casting a nervous glance into the darkness of the trees. She should leave, and quickly- but the little puppy was still weak, and in pain. She lifted it into her arms, careful of its injuries, and it pressed its little face into the crook of her elbow. It felt wrong, to abandon it, but would it really be all right to bring it home?
She started, looking down at the counter as though it took great effort to look away. "S-sorry. I- um. Long day. Brain's all- y'know. Um. Sorry." She fumbled for her wallet. She kept glancing at the wall behind him as she paid for her orange juice and beef jerky. The cashier shook his head. College students were an odd lot. She mumbled a thank you when he handed her her bag, and for a moment he thought she might say something more. She didn't leave the shop so much as flee.
It wasn't a significant or memorable interaction, in the scheme of things. Odd types were part and parcel of working the night shift, after all. One of those things you stopped thinking about after a while, just like the broken fan that never turned off and the three cartons- never more, never less- of Virginia Slims that went inexplicably missing every month without fail.
Cora shivered a little, and did her best to look casual as she walked away from the corner store. She shouldn't have stared, she knew. It was just- she'd never seen so many before, and never all in once place, and never stealing cigarettes, of all things. She wondered if she'd done the right thing, leaving without saying anything, but- well, what could she have said? Pardon me, sir, but there's a gang of invisible gnomes smoking behind you. That was the sort of thing that made people assume you were on drugs. And anyway- Talking. To people. It was always an awful, paralyzing prospect, and adding Creatures to the mix just made it worse.
And besides- they didn't seem to have any interest in him, and it was always best not to invite the Creatures to take interest in her. It was a hard-learned lesson. She'd try to talk to them, in her childhood, because she hadn't known that they were Other. She'd assumed everyone saw them. Her parents had assumed that she'd had a huge and ever-changing bevy of imaginary friends. The crying fits and bruises had been chalked up to bullying. Mercurial, the Creatures were, prone to cruelty. It wasn't until her father's mother came to live with them that she'd learned.
"Listen well now, lass. You've got the sight, same as me, same as all Lennox women. You mind what I say and never forget, and it'll keep you safe even long after I'm gone."
And Cora had minded her Nan's lessons, even when it made her parents worry that her head was too far in the clouds, and it had kept her safe. Odd, yes, nervous and twitchy and lonely, but safe. No more bites and pinches from fractious pixies, no more impossible tangles in her hair for some esoteric breach of elven etiquette. Most of the time, the Creatures didn't know she could see them, which suited Cora just fine. That was, after all, lesson number one- you won't catch their attention if they don't know they've caught yours.
Cora quickened her steps and fished her orange juice out of the bag. It was a warm night by autumn standards, but still- she wanted to be in her apartment, behind a closed door and a salt line. She could phone Nan then. She had no real friends- it was impossible to explain herself fully to anyone, so it was best to avoid the possibility of questions altogether- but Nan understood. They were kindred spirits. They even looked alike, going by Nan's old pictures. Cora might have been dark-skinned and dark-haired and coltishly long-limbed, but she shared the wild curls, hazel eyes, freckles and delicate features. And a predilection for silver jewelry.
Pure silver. Always. Never to be removed, not even in the shower. Cold iron was poison to unnatural things on contact, but they couldn't even touch a person who wore silver. It's one of the few things that Cora knew for certain. Everything was conjecture, really- picking out facts from legend and folklore was a bit like trying to piece together an accurate history of Italy from Shakespeare's plays- but in all her life, Nan had never encountered a Creature that could push through the protection of silver. It was a comfort, the quiet clinking of her charm bracelet, reminding her that when all else failed, she had one last foolproof defense.
Cora fumbled with the cap of the orange juice, frowning. They were always closed so tightly, and the condensation made it slippery. She was nearly home, at least, and she began to relax as she approached the gate of her apartment complex. There were plenty of streetlights, and the nearby cluster of trees was far enough from the sidewalk that the thick underbrush wasn't overly unsettling, even at night. She put the bottle of juice back into her plastic bag and began to fumble in the pockets of her too-big hoodie for her keys- and then she froze, listening. She was sure she'd heard something. And sure enough, she heard it again- a whining, like an animal in pain. A dog, she thought, near the treeline. She bit her lip, indecision rooting her to the spot. It was late, there was no one around- what if it was aggressive? There would be no one to help. But if she called for help and waited, it might crawl off into the woods, where they might not be able to find it. She dug out her phone and turned on the flashlight, peering into the darkness, and then- just inside the copse. She saw it.
A dog, yes. A dog with eyes that glowed crimson, with fur as green as moss, with the unmistakable aura of something Other. Cora tensed. She should go. It was a Creature, and no good would come of interfering with it. Even if some Creatures really were just animals like any other. She'd already paid too much attention to it.
The dog whined again, weaker this time. It was a small thing, and its paws were large and awkward. It had the look of a puppy. And Cora could see, just barely, that something was wrapped around its neck. She swallowed hard. She couldn't just leave it to suffer. But- the silver. She'd have to take off the silver. It would be all right, surely, to remove for just a little while. She could help the dog and then put it back on right away. She set down her bag, and with a deep, bracing breath, unclasped the bracelet. She tucked it carefully into the bag.
She shivered when she stepped out of the yellow light of the streetlamps. The little patch of trees and undergrowth had seemed almost civilized from the safety of the sidewalk, but now, lit only by her phone's flashlight, it all seemed- bigger. Wilder. At least the dog was close. It tried to lift its head, whimpering, but soon gave up. She knelt beside it.
"Oh, poor thing," Cora murmured. It had, apparently, gotten itself stuck in a piece of steel fencing. The iron was eating into its skin. Cora felt a lump in her throat. "I- I think this might hurt, I'm sorry." She managed to work her fingers in between the wire and the dog's skin, suppressing a wince at its yelping. It was too weak to struggle, which was lucky- Cora was able to work the fencing over the puppy's head without having to fight the animal, though it whined so pathetically that she was near tears by the time it was free.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry, you're free now." The puppy quieted, panting harshly. It stretched out its neck and licked her hand. Cora sobbed in relief as the angry red marks left by the iron began to fade. "See? All better now." She stroked its fur gently, casting a nervous glance into the darkness of the trees. She should leave, and quickly- but the little puppy was still weak, and in pain. She lifted it into her arms, careful of its injuries, and it pressed its little face into the crook of her elbow. It felt wrong, to abandon it, but would it really be all right to bring it home?
