The Door

The trapdoor had presumably been there since the house was built, hidden beneath the basement. If I hadn’t been replacing the carpet, I would have never found it. It was perfectly flush with the cement floor, a small latch set to help it open. There were no markers on it, nothing to identify what the small square hole in the floor was for.

 

I expected the door not to open, or to be locked but it took barely any effort to lift it up. Beneath it was wooden stairs descending into an maw of blackness. What was down there? My heart raced in my chest, and I swallowed with difficulty. I had to know, I couldn’t leave this unknown room sitting below me as I went about my day to day in the house.

 

My first step onto the stairs startled me with its loud groan. I stopped breathing for a moment, expecting something to come flying up the stairs towards me. My hands were shaking trying to shine my flashlight, causing shadows to dart back and forth. The trapdoor was too small for me to see anything beyond the stairs from where I was. I would have to completely commit, go entirely into the room to find out what was down there. A big breath settled my hands, and I took the next creaking step.

 

The room smelled of old metal. Dust motes lazily drifted in front of my light, disturbed from their long slumber. My foot left the last stair and found smooth dirt. My left hand trailed on the wall to keep myself steady, the cool cement comforting. I lifted my phone in my right hand, using the flashlight to cut through the gloom to see a ratty white cloth draped over a large shapeless object. The object dominated the room, which was rather small, maybe ten feet by ten feet. A large wire ran from beneath the cloth, into the far wall.

 

I reached out, pulling the cloth off the object. More dust swirled around me, obscuring my vision. I coughed and waved away the particles. The odor of old metal got stronger. My light creeped up across a metal contraption, looking rusted and decrepit. It was freestanding in the center of the room.

 

It looked like a metal door frame without a door. That was the simplest way to describe it. A series of switches and buttons adorned one side, with the other side a mess of wires that tapered to the single large wire running into the far wall. What was the door for? I crept closer, fascination overtaking my fear. I walked through the empty door frame, and circled the device. Nothing happened.

 

The switches and buttons used to have writing on them, but they had been long worn away. A quiet hum filled my ears as I got closer, coming from the machine. There was three switches and three buttons on the control panel, each in a corresponding vertical line. Tentatively I reached out and flicked the top switch. The hum got louder and the top button began to glow red. I pressed it, and nothing happened. Thinking it must be switches first, then buttons, I flicked the next two switches in quick succession.

 

All three buttons were lit up. The hum was loud now, filling the room with its growing pitch. For a second, I considered walking away. I didn’t know what pressing the buttons would do, I didn’t know what this door would do, where and how it would open. I could turn around, leave the room, seal the entrance and put it from my mind. I could’ve done that. I could’ve left my life the same, unchanged but for a small itch of “what could’ve been” in the back of my head.

 

Instead, I hit the buttons, top to bottom, in quick succession.

 

The hum died, the red light of the buttons faded to darkness. Then my phone flashlight went out. I was thrown into near darkness, my eyes struggling to adjust. Only the open door cast light into the room. Silence reigned and I held my breath in anticipation and disappointment. Had I ruined it? It was broken now. I should have taken my time, waited for help, found someone who could figure out what the doorway was for. My impatience had ruined whatever discovery this was, and apparently my phone as well. I flicked the switches and hit the buttons in ways, different timings.  I couldn’t get it to turn on again. I turned to leave.

 

As I reached the foot of the stairs, I saw my shadow on the wall. It was in front of me, at my height, not below me like it should have been. I looked over my shoulder at the contraption. A pale blue-white light filled the metal doorway. The hum hit my ears a second later, louder and higher pitched than before.

 

I walked back to the metal door, entranced by the light. This was a thing of fiction, a door to another reality, another plane or another time. How old was this? What mind had created this, then hidden it away? Why? What was its purpose?

 

A part of me thought back to my defeated thoughts a few moments prior, and realized that it would be better to go find someone else to study this. But the rest of me wanted the adventure, to climb through and discover for myself what was on the other side. I was almost touching the door now, the blue-white light pulsed gently before me. I raised my hand and reached out.

 

As my hand touched the light, it was pushed away by someone coming through the doorway. I was knocked the floor heavily.

 

“You haven’t gone through the door yet right?” The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t make out any details in the dark and shadows. “If this is my timeline, then you haven’t. The first time I tried, it was just set to receive so I couldn’t go through.”

 

I was pulled to my feet by the other person and in the soft light I was startled to see myself. My clothes were more ragged, and my beard heavy, but it was me. I worked my mouth, but no sound came out.

 

“I know, I know, it’s weird. Trust me, there’s rules about this, but we can’t go over them all now. Just trust me when I say you can’t go through this door. It opens up way too many problems. All the cans of worms.” The other me walked to the control panel and threw the bottom two switches and hit the middle button. “Ok, once I’m through here, just cut the cords and walk away. Trust me, or yourself, however you want to say it.”

 

“Ok,” I managed to push out. I wouldn’t go through. I would seal the room and pretend it never existed.

 

The other me flickered out of sight for a moment, then reappeared where was before. In that instant, my mind was set on fire. Every thought was agony and my heart felt like it was being pulled from my chest. I dropped to the ground in pain, as the other me did as well. Even in the faint light I could see the horror on his face.

 

“Timelines,” he gasped. “Of course as soon as I convince you not to go, then you don’t go, and I cease to exist, giving you no reason to stay here. How come I couldn’t remember this from when I went through it? Is it a safety measure, protecting myself from this?” He looked to me for help. I had none to give.

 

“Then you have to go. This device is a curse and a wonder.” He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “These are instructions that I was given to help operate it. I… must’ve given them to myself when I first went through. Where did they come from then? God I hate timelines.” He rubbed his temples.

 

“Do I have to go?” I whispered.

 

“Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here,” he snapped. “That gives you some serious plot armour to survive till you get to where I am. After this point for me, I have no idea. Just remember a few things. One, towels are really the most useful thing to bring. Two, there aren’t any time ripples so don’t worry about butterflies and shit. Three, I wish I had stayed here…” He trailed off in thought. “But in fairness, the places on the other side of the door is pretty incredible. You don’t know it yet, but we’re going to save the universe.

 

“I just wish I could’ve saved her. I wanted to keep you from that pain. From watching her die and being helpless. Apparently I can’t though…” The other me blinked tears from his eyes. “Alright bye. Good luck, though apparently I don’t need it, since I got to this point. Immutable streams of time and all that.” He stepped through the door, blinking out of existence.

 

I looked down at the book in my hands. It was worn and grimy and smelled of faint rot. It was time for an adventure.

Lavender and Blood: Part 7

Marissa screamed impotently, unheard. Mab dropped Sam and picked up their child and started walking towards the door. Marissa hadn’t even named her.

 

She wouldn’t know everything her parents had done for her. She would grow up in the wrong place, or maybe she would be killed and thrown away once she was done being useful. Like Mab had done to Marissa, to Sam.

 

Marissa threw herself between Mab and the doorway. There had to be something to stop this. Mab looked through Marissa, through to the other side of the door. A terrible hunger had settled on Mab’s face. Marissa knew the look. It was how she had felt when she fought to get Sam’s love. Mab was a desperate creature, and had found what she wanted.

 

Marissa turned to the doorway and reached out to grab at it, tear it apart, anything. She felt herself touch the doorway.

 

Lightening blossomed in her veins, a waterfall cascaded through her heart. Marissa was power incarnate. The doorway flicked, went out. Marissa felt herself overflowing, drowning. The magic demanded action or it would burn through her. Marissa knew just what to do with it.

 

Marissa manifested just as she landed a punch on Mab’s cheek, shattering her skin once more. Mab hadn’t seen it coming. Marissa had no idea how she was doing this, but the magic seemed to respond to her desire, changing things around her. Marissa could end this. Her vision went blurry with rage, every thought but killing this monster leaving her mind.

 

Marissa grabbed Mab’s shoulder and slammed a fist into Mab’s face again. Mab fell face first to the ground, stunned. Marissa brought her fists down together, striking again and a thick black substance started oozing from Mab’s ears. Mab didn’t move.

 

“So much… better than being… a ghost,” Marissa said as she stood panting over Mab. She wasn’t drowning in the magic now. She could think clearly again. Her child, where was she?

 

Marissa found her, crying under Mab’s form. She had Mab’s black blood smeared across her forehead. Guilt and regret rushed through Marissa as she lifted up the baby. This would be the first and probably the last time she ever held her.

 

“Mommy loves you, please remember that,” Marissa whispered. She couldn’t feel her legs any more. They were fading out of sight as Marissa looked down. She was running out of magic and time.

 

She placed her child on Sam’s chest and leaned over to give them both a kiss. Sam stirred and held the child in his half conscious state. Marissa needed to help him, get him out of here. She willed magic into him, trying to bring him back to awakeness. His eyes fluttered, then opened.

 

Marissa was so happy she would get to say goodbye and tell him how –

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam sat up. He was still in the white room, though it was much darker now. His arms held his child. What had happened? Mab was motionless, face down in what looked like an expanding puddle of blood. His child let out a small cry and he gently hushed her.

 

“Rissa? You here?” Sam’s question was met with silence. His heart started to race. She wasn’t here anymore. Sam needed to leave. He had his child, it was time to go. He stood carefully, head spinning a little.

 

Mab screeched inhumanly, raising herself on limbs that were no longer marble. Instead, they seemed to be rotting, nearly falling from her bones.

 

“She took it all. Everything. It was mine.” Mab’s voice was guttural and raspy. “We made the deal. The child is mine. Mine.” She started dragging her body across the floor faster than should have been possible, streaks of blood being left behind as she rushed at Sam.

 

Sam turned and ran. He wasn’t proud of it, but he still didn’t know much about this magic stuff and he didn’t want to deal with it anymore. If he could reach the door, he could be safe. Mab wouldn’t come into the main part of the hospital like this, would she?

 

The room started to break apart. Sam saw a mop and a door frame appear ahead of him. There was a pressure in the air, like being squeezed. The space Mab had made was falling into pieces and he was inside. They needed to get out.

 

Mab tackled Sam with a squelch from behind. He hit the ground hard, protecting his girl. Something hard dug into his gut.

 

“She wasted it. Then poof, gone. You are not worth it.” Mab pierced his his back, digging her fingers into his flesh, tearing through his shirt. “I will win. Always do. Better.”

 

Mab, Sam, and his child fought for their life in a storage closet. The magic holding the room in it’s special space was gone. A broom fell over with a loud thump. Sam grasped at the hard thing in his gut, wanting to use it to beat Mab. His fingers wrapped out the gun he had dropped.

 

“Game over Mab.” Sam whipped the gun into her temple to give him some space, then emptied the chamber into the center of her mass as she fell back. He could feel her presence leave, the room becoming emptier somehow. He had won. He was so tired.

 

The hospital had erupted into a panic as Sam exited the closet. Security was everywhere, and Sam was highly conspicuous covered in blood, holding a crying child. Sam didn’t know what he would have to say, what story he would need to tell, but he would do whatever it took.

 

Sam looked back at the closet and said a silent goodbye to Marissa. He wasn’t ready to say farewell, but she had left him a persistent reminder of her. A reminder that had her eyes. Sam smiled sadly and held his daughter close.

Lavender and Blood: Part 6

The unborn child had to have her power. That was the only thing that made sense.  Damn it, she was becoming like them. Gullible and stupid. Mab shook her head, clearing the thoughts. It was too close of a call. She had devoured some Doctor without thought for the consequences, just to survive the encounter.

 

She knew Sam and Marissa had not known who they had summoned, as they were oblivious to her when they met Mab for the check up. Now it was her turn to get the jump on them. Reclaim the child as was the deal, and take back the power that was rightfully hers.

 

What Mab did not understand was how it had happened. How did the power get pulled from her? Why did the woman do it? Was the deal another trap? That thought gave Mab pause. If the woman had managed to steal from her already, there was nothing stopping this entire situation from being another set up.

 

If Mab knew how, then she could stop it. There was something she was missing. Marissa had a secret. Maybe she was not even aware of it. Oddly beautiful Marissa. Her husband had looked so relieved when she held his hand, even with the stress and dangers of the pregnancy.

 

The realisation struck Mab like a summer storm.

 

Marissa was a changeling. Mab doubted Marissa even knew it. She was changing her husband’s emotions without even realising it, feeding off his energy. Mab had not accounted for Fae blood when she cast the spell. Marissa had sucked in Mab’s power entirely unaware. The miserable woman was wasting it in her mundane life, not realising how hard Mab had worked for that power.

 

The upside to this was that Mab was not working against some diabolical plan. Just a mistake, and one she would not be as stupid as to repeat again. Mab would take back what was hers, and more. Mab’s life was worth way more than that lowly changeling.

 

Mab would bleed Marissa for this suffering, and take the child too.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Marissa watched Sam kneel. As Mab touched his shoulder, Sam’s eyes rolled back into his head. He went limp, falling to the floor. It couldn’t end like this, with barely a whimper.

 

“Hey! Let go of him!” Marissa felt lame as the words left her mouth. Mab didn’t react. “Seriously, you can’t take him too! You’ve already taken everything! Take me instead!” Marissa realised Mab couldn’t see her.

 

Marissa rushed at Mab, winding up the biggest punch she had in her. She floated through her, with no reaction from Mab. Mab grabbed the back of Sam’s shirt with one hand and lifted him like he barely weighed anything. Her other hand stretched out and started tracing a large rectangular shape. Her fingers left a glowing shape in the air. Marissa could feel the power being shaped. It was a spell. Mab was making a door.

 

“Seriously, fuck being a ghost,” Marissa said. She took another swing at Mab, her fist floating harmlessly through Mab’s head.

 

Mab’s face cracked, then became whole. It was only for a split second, but Marissa saw it. Mab’s skin had fractured like glass, and there was a glimpse of something rotting beneath. She wasn’t this almighty being, she was hiding a weakness.

 

Marissa only wished she could do something.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam had come under Mab’s power just like she thought he would. For years he had been manipulated unknowingly by his changeling wife. It had toughened his spirit, made it stronger, more powerful. Like a tempered blade, Mab wielded his spirit now, cutting between worlds. A manic smile spread across her face. So close.

 

The door between worlds was nearly impossible to craft being cut off from the power of the Faelands, but Mab should be able to make it work. Magic was purely instinctual to the Fae, there was no concrete explanation.

 

Mab could smell the rich earthy air of her home when she faltered.

 

It was a split second, where the strength of Sam’s soul wavered. He doubted momentarily if he was doing the right thing for his daughter, pulled away from Mab’s spell. She barely held onto him.

 

Mab licked her lips in anticipation. She could do this. Everything would be hers. The years had just served to make her stronger.

 

The door was done.

 

Mab stepped forward, dropping Sam’s limp form to the floor.

Lavender and Blood: Part 5

Sam touched the door cautiously. He could see nothing, but the fear in Marissa’s eyes was all he needed. There was danger here. The doorknob felt warm in his hand. Sam’s biggest issue was the fact that he was blind to this magic. There were rules here he didn’t understand, but was being forced to play by them nonetheless. He swallowed nervously.

 

The lock clicked itself open in his hand.

 

“Open it, what are you waiting for?” asked Marissa almost immediately. “If you want an invitation, I feel like this is as good as it’s going to get.”

 

“First, if she’s opening it, it’s obviously a trap. Second, I don’t know how this game works. Will my gun work? Will we walk through there and be killed immediately? She had the power to help impregnate you, what else can she do? Damnit Marissa, we know nothing.” Sam hesitated at the door, not willing to commit through the threshold.

 

“Can I help you sir?” A nurse had seen him, and approached. “The bathroom is down the hall, this is just a storage room.”

 

“You don’t have time to figure this out Sam! This isn’t where you work the case. You have to act,” Marissa interjected from behind him.

 

“Sorry Ma’am, must’ve just gotten turned around. Thank you.”  Sam needed a second to reassess. Walking away, not arousing suspicion would be the best course of action. He started towards the bathroom.

 

A baby cried from behind the magic door. Sam knew it might just be another trick, but deep down he knew it was his daughter’s cry. She needed help.

 

Sam threw open the door and was plunged into darkness as he crossed the door frame.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Mab felt a tug on her mind. An old calling, one she had not heard in a long time. It had been centuries, back when the bard had come singing her sweet praises, looking for immortality. She made sure he got just that even if no one knew his face. Fool did not understand the contract made, mortals never did.

 

Now, someone was sobbing, begging for a blessing. They called for more than deserved, like always. Mab was excited at the prospect of a deal however. She knew she could use it to her advantage. Lavender had called her, but blood would be collected.

 

The woman laid bare in a washtub of water. She had lit candles, worn the crown of spring and said the words. Mab approached her, unseen. The woman was desperate, yearning for fertility. The foolish mortal saw it as a way to save her relationship. Mab would give her the fertility, but lay claim to whatever was borne. The woman was not asking for anything but the fertility after all.

 

Mab considered making a changeling momentarily, but dismissed the idea. It was how the old ones did deals. They had usurped her, and she would not use their rules to bind herself. She would be better, show them their mistakes.

 

Still invisible, Mab stood over the woman. She was oddly beautiful. Mab reached down and caressed the woman’s cheek. The woman flinched.

 

“Are you here, Green Mother?” The woman asked quietly. Mab smiled at her ignorance. Never call out into the dark unless you are sure you know what lurks. But now she had a guise.

 

“Yes, my child. Rest,” Mab whispered as she reached inside the woman.

 

Everything went wrong. Mab could not breathe. She was not able to think. Blood oozed. A voice called from down the hall. Her power, where was it? Where had it gone? She needed it. Mab pulled away from the woman. She had tricked her. It was a trap. Leave, she had to go. The deal was set still. She would get her due. One way or another.

 

Mab fled as Sam entered the room.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Darkness turned to light. Sam was standing in a room much larger than a closet. The walls seemed infinite, perspective skewed in sheer size. He looked behind him, and there was no door. Just Marissa standing with her arms hugging her abdomen. The only thing in the room was a large throne, with a figure sitting in it. The light was too bright to make out who it was. Not that Sam needed any confirmation. He pulled out his gun and took off the safety.

 

“Mab, give me my child back,” Sam called out. He started walking towards the throne.  

 

“You dare speak to me mortal? Do you have any idea whose presence you are in?” Mabs voice dripped venom and disdain.

 

“Yeah, Queen of the Storage Closet. Not that impressive if you ask me.” Sam started to sweat. As he got closer to the throne, he could feel Mab’s force of presence. Like an awed silence, it pressed onto him. “Look, I don’t know what deal you made with my wife, but I’m here to cancel it. Null and void.”

 

“Look around you fool. Do you not see the power I wield? You are just one more soul lucky to be crushed beneath my feet. You should beg to be taken as well.” Mab’s imperious words echoed in the room.

 

Sam was close enough to see Mab clearly now. She looked very similar to the doctor she had pretended to be, however her body seemed to be carved from marble.  There were no flaws to be seen. Her eyes were perfect emeralds.She was utterly stunning. Sam was awed, he was blessed to be in her presence. He dropped his gun.

 

Why shouldn’t she take their child? Sam was just an ant. He couldn’t provide for his daughter like Mab could. He fell to his knees, dropped his chin to his chest. Supplication was the right choice. She would help him, make things better. He felt Mab’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“Good,” Mab purred. “Now we take my revenge.”

Lavender and Blood: Part 4

“In the stories, didn’t the Fae leave a child of their own when they took a child?” Sam held the door for Marissa as he entered the hospital. He realised that the action was pointless, and let go. Marissa flinched as the door passed through her.

 

“Yeah, changelings. They were supposed to be a terror to raise, and their magic always screwed with people’s emotions. Fairies are all about balance. Take something, give something. Not sure where Mab was when they gave those lessons though.”

 

“Isn’t there a contract? A deal that was agreed upon?”

 

“I didn’t think it worked. The Fae that responded was supposed to feed on the berries, lavender, a bit of my life force and in return bless my womb. There was nothing about taking the baby, or me dying…” Marissa trailed off. “I don’t know. Things aren’t supposed to go this way, Sam.”

 

The hospital smelled just short of sterile. It was a uncomfortable smell, lingering in the nose. As if no matter how hard they scrubbed, or the chemicals they used, they couldn’t get the smell of death out of the walls. Harsh fluorescent lights painted the hallways pale. People passed Sam with their heads down, not wanting to see more suffering than they were here for.

 

A large and colourful mural greeted Sam as he entered Labour and Delivery. The large giraffe in the mural seemed to be leering at him as he passed. Knowing there was some kind of child stealing fairy lurking around, turned every attempt at making the ward cheerful into sinister.

 

“How does this normally work?” Marissa asked. “The detective stuff, that is.”

 

“I look at the scene, look for the clues, talk to witnesses, mayb-”

 

“Huh, what about that door?” Marissa interrupted. She pointed at an unmarked door down the hall.

 

“Why that door?” Sam walked over to it. It looked like every other door in the hall, minus a room number. “Probably just a storage closet.”

 

“Can’t you see it?” Marissa’s eyes were horrified. “There’s all these strange symbols around the door frame. Looks like it’s painted in blood?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He had returned. Why had he returned? The magic had been cast. He shouldn’t remember his child. Was it the grief of losing his wife? Did that break the spell? Mab sat in her dark and cluttered throne room, a feeling of concern spreading inside her.  

 

She had earned this. She had taken the child, having given her own essence to make sure it would be born. It was rightfully hers. This man had no claim. He had ruined his own life. Mab was just the one who exposed it. Why had he returned?

 

Her concern changed to indignation. He thought of himself as better. Just like they did when they cast her out. Everyone looked down on her. But she had survived. She had built this place herself. She had stolen others when they were not looking. Her will had kept her alive, stopped her from fading.

 

Was he the next step? Her way back to her rightful throne? Yes, his wife had changed him enough. Mab could bring this man into her hidden place. Feed from him. Use his life to go home. Strength. She needed more strength. Even to face this broken man.

 

She turned to the infant and began to feed on it. Caressing it, she felt the life power flow into her. Thoughts expanded and became more concrete. It wouldn’t be hard. She would simply open the door to him, and like all foolish mortals, he would willingly sign over his mind.

 

Stars above, she was hungry. How long had it been since she had fed? She had thought it had not been that long, but now she realised how close she had been to being a mindless monster, driven by instinct. Nearly feral. The child looked pale now, and let out soft cries as its life energy was siphoned off. Mab stopped feeding. She was still hungry, but if the child died she wouldn’t have anything to trade.

 

Mab looked around her throne room. It was dark and strewn with lifeless husks from past feedings. She needed it to be more presentable. A snap of her fingers made the room bright and spotless. It cost her more magic than she wanted, but was needed. The man needed to see her in a position where he couldn’t do anything but bargain with her. Bringing the child to her breast, she settled onto her throne.

 

She unlocked the door and waited.

Lavender and Blood: Part 3

“That name rings a bell, but I can’t place it.” Sam had started another cigar. It wasn’t any better.

 

The papers on the table were more organized now, having been stacked by Sam as he moved through the info, looking at it from this new perspective. He still didn’t believe in magic, but what other option did he have? He wanted the world to run on logic, cause and effect, but that seemed impossible at the moment. If he suspended his belief, he could dig through this, find out what he needed.

 

“She’s the midwife fairy in Romeo and Juliet, and a Queen in the Fae world. I just thought it was a sign. God I was stupid. I didn’t think Mab would actually be the one to help. I didn’t realise what the cost was of asking for help,” Marissa said limply.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The delivery room was exploding with sound. Marissa had started losing blood at an abnormal rate, triggering nearly a dozen people coming into the room. Each of them had a purpose, had a reason to be there. Sam sat holding her hand, worry and fear setting in as he watched his wife’s face get paler and paler. Her screams became weak cries, then faded into nothing.

 

“Changing priority!” Doctor Mab called out. She hadn’t broken a sweat yet. “Baby is nearly out. We can’t save her without removing the child. Terrance, start compressions. Janice, get the pads out, get ready to shock. Sharon, prep the lines for epi. Full code now.”

The room was so loud, Sam almost didn’t hear his daughter’s first cry.

 

He saw her, her eyes scrunched up, fist balled up. Doctor Mab pulled her free, cutting the cord and stepping away with their daughter. Another Doctor stepped up and took over the care for Marissa. Doctor Mab left the room, a brief glance over her shoulder.

 

“She’s not coming back,” said a voice into his ear. “Mab isn’t who she claims.”

 

Swinging his head, Sam stared dumbly at Marissa beside him, then looked to where she laid on the bed. “But…”

 

“I’m dead Sam, but you’re not. You need to save our daughter.” Marissa’s face scrunched up in frustration like it normally did. “Now follow her!”

 

Sam let go of Marissa’s hand. It fell to the bed, limp.

 

In the hallway, he saw no sign of Doctor Mab. The apparition he thought he had just seen wasn’t there either. It was just shock. His wife was dying, but the baby was fine. This was an emotional moment. It would be ok, he just needed a moment.

 

“Where did Doctor Mab take our child?” Sam asked the nurse at the main desk. She looked blankly at him.

 

“Sorry, which doctor? I don’t know her,” said the nurse. Sam’s heart stopped.

 

—

 

“You need to save our daughter, Sam.”

 

Sam didn’t respond. He steepled his fingers. He had spent the last few days being an emotional mess. Blindsided by things it felt like he had purposely ignored, he realised that he needed to set aside his feelings and solve this. Just another case, just another set of clues. Sam had all the pieces now, he just had to put them together. For her.

 

“Alright then,” Sam said. “Let’s do this. Let’s steal our baby back from the Queen of the Fae. Reality be damned.”

 

Lavender and Blood: Part 2

“You said it was a spontaneous ectopic abortion.” Sam held the medical paperwork, looking through it again. He knew every word on the page already.

 

“Well, you’re handling the word magic so well. Imagine me saying I had invited a fertility fae to bless my womb.” Marissa’s wry words were weakened by the defeat in her eyes. Sam bit his tongue so he wouldn’t respond too harshly.

 

“You said it didn’t work though.”

 

“Yeah, guess I was wrong. I mean, can you blame me? Didn’t look or feel like it worked. I thought it was a natural pregnancy when it happened.”

 

Sam looked at Marissa without speaking. Everything about her seemed gaunt, her shoulders hunched the way they did when she was at her wits end. Faint streaks of tears sat in her crows feet. She genuinely didn’t think any of this would happen. This wasn’t what she wanted.

 

“When did you decide that being pregnant was the measure of our relationship?” Sam probed gently. “It was before this, right?”

 

“Remember the dinner? At Honen’s?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam and Marissa sat quietly looking at the menus in their favorite restaurant. The waiter put the drinks down. Knowing they weren’t quite ready to order yet, he nodded and left the table without a word.

 

Sam had to tell her. She probably wouldn’t like it, but it was the right choice.

 

“I’m starting my own private practice. Me and McHearn are leaving to start it,” Sam said, waiting for Marissa’s response. She looked at him stunned. The silence stretched too long, so Sam continued. “It’ll mean more work, longer hours, but I’ll be able to help people without the politics of the police department getting in the way.”

 

Marissa sat silent for another moment. Her lips tightened and Sam could see tension in her jaw.

 

“It’ll be better for us too, I promise,” Sam continued. “We’ll be able to afford a bigger house, upgrade the car.”

 

“You already work almost fifteen hours a day, six days a week.” Marissa words got quieter as she spoke, until they were almost an inaudible hiss. “You want to save everyone and everything but not what you have with me. Do you even want to be with me?”

 

Sam felt a flare of frustration in his stomach. Didn’t she see how he worked this hard for them? How he had put in these hours to climb the ladder and allow them more comfort? He was making this move to make sure their future was solid.

 

“I don’t know what you want Rissa, I try to provide, I try to create a life you can enjoy. You’re so ungrateful for what I do for us!” The waiter, having come back to ask for their order, froze when he heard what Sam said, leaving silently again.

 

“Seriously? This isn’t for us, this is for you. To feel good about yourself. You want to play the victim, claiming that I don’t care, that what you do isn’t good enough for me. You’re what I want Sam. Just to be with you. God, you’re so blind to what’s right under your nose when it’s about emotions.

 

Do you even know what you’d have time for us Sam? You talk about our future, but when will that even come? You’ve provided, you’ve accomplished what you wanted, but you’re so unhappy with what you have. When will you take the time for us?” Marissa’s lip quivered in anger.

 

Sam felt defiant. Marissa was wrong. He was happy with what he had, this new practice would cement it. It was exactly what he, what they, needed. Then their life would be perfect. She’d see, she’d understand once he got it. But Sam didn’t want to argue with her, he had wanted to celebrate his new success. He could be the better person here.

 

“I thought if I was in control of the workspace, that once we were established that I’d be able to take more time. Like for recitals or ball games. Us time.”  

 

“Like, kids?” Marissa’s face was guarded. “You’ve never wanted kids.”

 

“I thought they were a ‘future’ thing, and I wasn’t sure when we’d get there. But I promise you, this practice is the turning point. We have made it. I can fix this, Rissa. I can fix us. We can,” Sam paused. “We can start trying if you want.” His stomach tightened in nervousness. He just wanted to make her happy, to give her a good life.

 

Marissa reached across the table and put her hand on his. Sam felt a flutter in his heart, the relaxing feeling of hope and relief. This was the right way for them.

 

“Of course I want to start a family with you.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Inhospitable environment, is the term the doctor used I believe,” Marissa said.

 

Sam didn’t want to meet Marissa’s eyes. He knew the pain they held.

 

“Somehow I don’t regret it,” she continued. “Even in the end, in the delivery room, I was just happy to have brought something to this world with you. I just wish I could see what she grows into. Our miracle.”

 

Sam didn’t know what to say. He reached out for her hand, wanting to console her. His hand went through where her’s should have been, and came to rest on the table. Sam swallowed, feeling stupid.

 

“You’re taking the whole ‘ghost wife’ part of this story pretty well.” Marissa tried to hide her pain in a joke. She dried her eyes with her sleeves.

 

Sam snorted softly, leaning back into his chair. “Either I’m insane or it’s true. I’m screwed no matter which it is right? At this point, I just want to get to the end of this clown-car ride. Pull back the curtain on the wizard, and laugh at whatever is playing God.

 

If it means that it’s some delusion I’m going through and I’m alone at the end of this, I won’t be surprised. Looking back at this, I don’t think I was ever a man capable of loving you right. You’re my greatest delusion of all, Rissa.”

 

She looked down at the table and smiled sadly. The eyes she had just dried teared up again. She shook her head in disagreement, or amazement at Sam’s stupidity. He couldn’t tell.

 

“I told you who’s behind the curtain. Please trust me, Sam. We trusted each other at some point right? Can we go back to that?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Good afternoon. Marissa and Sam Harden correct?” The doctor looked at her chart for confirmation. “Three months along, and all the tests are coming back positive. Whatever changes you made in your life Mrs. Harden, it helped. The baby is doing very well right now. There are still plenty of possible complications that can happen, but we will work through it step by step. There is no need to add more stress to the pile right now.”

 

Sam had his hand on Marissa’s shoulder and she reached up and squeezed his hand. He felt a fluttering of excitement. It had finally worked. The months of preparation, the IVF, it was worth it. Even Marissa’s recent weird obsession with wiccan and homeopathic practices seemed less frustrating when viewed in this light of success.

 

“Unfortunately, Dr Brown, your previous OB-GYN has had to take some time off for medical reasons. He’s asked me to assist with your pregnancy, knowing the previous complications you have had. Please know that you are in good hands, my specialty is IVF babies, parents who thought there wasn’t any other option.”

 

Sam extended his hand, “We really appreciate your help. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

 

“Doctor Mab,” she said with a big smile. “And yes, yes, lots of people say I was born for this job with a name like this.”

Lavender and Blood: Part 1

“Magic isn’t real,” Sam said as he exhaled smoke. The cigar tasted like shit. Like failure, dismay and a heavy sprinkling of regret, all wrapped up in a messy leaf. Sam sat in a dusky kitchen smoking it resolutely. The last rays of light were slinking through the blinds throwing shadows across the room. Smoke from the cigar danced in the dying rays of sunset. Ash fell, skittering across a scattering of papers and photos strewn across the table. There had to be something, somewhere. He had always found it before.

 

“Do you really not believe me?” Marissa said softly, from across the table. “This is us Sam. You should trust me.”

 

“I did,” Sam said. “But look where that’s got us.”

 

“You’re ignoring what I’ve told you. You have -”

 

“I don’t have to do anything, Marissa.” Sam cut her off, waving the hand with the cigar to dismiss her words. “And you’re not bringing it up.”

 

“Fine.” She fell silent, staring out the window with slumped shoulders. After a few minutes of silence she whispered, “Is this the most productive use of our time?”

 

Sam let out a defeated sigh and slumped down in his chair. He ground the stub of his cigar into the ashtray. His eyes were red from exhaustion, his cheeks pallid. “I’m not sure. I thought I knew you, but this all is a bit far fetched.”

 

“I thought I was losing you. I needed anything to hold on to. To give me hope.” Marissa tangled her fingers together nervously.

 

“But magic isn’t real. Fairies and crap? Just stories we tell little ones to make them behave, to be good. There’s no big bad in the dark. Nothing past this, past shit cigars, dead wives and…” Sam cut himself off before the last words slipped through his mouth.

 

“At least I didn’t bring it up,” Marissa grimaced.

 

“This is too much information for me to process. It’s been two days and everything is wrong. You had months and couldn’t bring it up?” Sam ground his teeth in frustration.

 

“I tried. So many times,” Marissa said as she moved closed to Sam. She put her hands on his. “You weren’t listening. I hoped that it would just work out in the end. We both failed her.”

 

Sam couldn’t feel her hands.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The house felt off as he entered the front door. A blanket of silence lay thick over everything. Sam felt his heart begin to race. He couldn’t place what it was.

 

“Rissa?” His voice sounded unnatural, deeper than normal. “You home?”

 

There was no response.  

 

Sam drew his side arm, took off the safety. He took a long slow breath, slowing his heart. There was no sound. Everything felt muted. He slid his feet out of his shoes, wanting the silence of his socks on the laminate as he made his way through the house.

 

He peered around the corner of the living room, down the long hallway that lead to the bedrooms. Light spilled from the master bedroom doorway. A shadow slipped through the light.

 

Sam wanted to call out for Marissa, but couldn’t get the words out.

 

Down the hallway he moved, forcing himself to breathe and not hold his breath. Each bedroom he passed was empty. It only took about a minute to make his way down the hallway but each second clawed at his nerves, demanding he run to the bedroom, shoot the danger, fix the problem. It was only training that held him back, made him cautious.

 

The bedroom door was fully open. The room was empty. A window was open, but Sam couldn’t hear any traffic from the street. The off-suite bathroom door was open. Marissa had to be in there. Candle light flickered from inside. He was two steps from seeing inside, then one.

 

A bird screeched outside.

 

The silence broke. It was the only way to describe it. Sam could feel it in his gut. A pressure released. He looked inside the bathroom.

 

Marissa laid in the bathtub, half submerged in bloody water. A small circlet of red berries and leaves sat on her head. A cloying smell of lavender hung in the air. Candles sat on the edge of the tub, their wavering light adding to the growing horror in Sam’s chest. There was no one else in the room. Sam safetied the gun and rushed to Marissa’s side.

 

“Rissa, what happened?” He lifted her limp form out of the crimson water. She stirred in his arms. “Rissa?”

 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Her eyes snapped open and she took a gasping breath. “Oh god, I don’t know.” She shook in his arms, her eyes looking wildly around the room.

 

“Where are you bleeding from?” Sam looked over her pale body, but couldn’t see any cuts. “Were you drinking?”

 

“I think it’s my privates, but that doesn’t make sense… This doesn’t make sense.” She started crying.

 

“It’s ok, Rissa, I’ve got you,” Sam told her as he gently stroked her hair. “Let’s call an ambulance and get you to the hospital.”

 

As he pulled her from the bloody water, pale red stones fell from her hands.

Walkman

I forced a smile. The stranger struggled with the camera for a moment before it clicked and the flash went off. He handed back the camera to my mother, giving an awkward nod before blending back into the crowd. I opened my empty walkman absentmindedly, playing with the slot. I turned back to the Leaning Tower of Pisa, giving an exaggerated yawn. This was a terrible vacation.

 

“Did you get enough sleep sweetie?” Mom tussled my hair as she asked. “We can ask the hotel for a different blanket or pillows.”

 

“I’m fine Mom!” I snarled back, drawing out the vowels in annoyance. Mom reached towards me and pulled me closer. I leaned away slightly in annoyance, but she held on firmly.

 

“Look, I know this wasn’t where you wanted to go for vacation. I know you’d rather be camping with John and Steve in Gladstone Park,” said Mom. “But I also know that family is important. We need some time to us, to be together.”

 

“Is that why you took my tape? Force me to participate?” I regretted the words once they left my mouth but I stood firm. Mom’s shoulders sagged, and she let out a sigh.

 

“I hope you get what I was trying to do when you’re older. Here, take back the tape.” She fumbled in her purse for a moment before handing me a cassette. “I love you, ok? I just wanted to spend time with you.” She turned from me, reading the pamphlet on the Square of Miracles.

 

I slid the tape into my walkman, pressing play eagerly. Beck’s “Loser” crackled to life in my ears, but it didn’t bring me the comfort of home I had been craving.

 

“Umm, Mom, what’s the pamphlet say?” I asked hesitantly. Mom turned to me and smiled.

The Wish

The far side of the lake was burning. A dry summer mixed with a brief thunderstorm had created a devastating natural event. The smoke hung heavy in the air, choking the daylight into a near twilight. Even with the fire this far away, the crackling of hundred year old evergreens could be heard. Flames were racing along the lake shore to devour us.

 

“We’re packed finally. The money box is tucked under the blankets. We have to go before this gets worse, John.” Sarah’s voice cut through my unfocused thoughts.

 

“You’re right. Lets go.” I took one last look at our home. Everything we couldn’t fit in the wagon would be consumed within the day. Nature was cruel and indifferent.

 

Our two year old, Katie, sat in the back of the wagon, oblivious to the danger. She beamed at me as I passed her, returning to her prized possession, her birthday candle from her recently passed birthday. It was just a lump of wax now, but she had loved blowing it out.

 

I flicked the reins on the horses and we took off down the trail at a fast trot. The smell of fire was strong, the flames maybe two hours away.

 

“How old is Mother Nature?” Katie asked.

 

“Very old, why?” Sarah responded.

 

“I thought so,” said Katie sagely. “She has so many birthday candles she can’t blow them out fast enough. I wish we could help her.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

In response, Katie lifted her candle parallel to the burning trees across the lake and blew air as if she was blowing out the forest fire like a birthday candle. The innocence of the action brought a smile to me. I urged the horses to go faster.

 

I had to protect my little girl and her candle.