Hurricane #8: The Faerie (Patreon)

The coffee shop Serrano worked at wasn’t quite in the DMZ, but it was at the very edge—the closest decent cup of coffee to the college campus, if you didn’t count the donut shop (and you shouldn’t). The rain had stopped, so she’d walked from her apartment; it was usually about twenty minutes each way, either by bus or on foot.

As she rounded the last corner, she did a double-take at the parking lot the shop shared with a small strip mall. A half-dozen people stood around a parking space just opposite the coffee shop’s entrance, one of them in a cop’s uniform. They were surrounding a wrecked car. An accident, but only the one car?

She looked at her phone to check the time, then walked over. The car was an exotic import roadster, one of those ones that started around three or four hundred thousand. At least, it had been. Now, it was…flat. Not even a foot high. “What the hell did this guy run into, a steam roller?” It was like—

A possum woman standing a couple of feet away turned and shrugged. “Nobody knows.” She pointed at an unhappy-looking rabbit, someone Serrano knew: Ron, one of her coworkers, somebody who should be in the store right now on opening shift. “He called it in, and now he’s stuck while that guy works it out.” She pointed at the cop, a burly tiger, who was scribbling in a notebook and looking resigned.

Serrano ran a hand through her hair. Go ahead, finish the thought. It was like the car you stepped on in your dream.

She turned away and took a shaky breath, then marched into the store. Okay, coyote, don’t get yourself rattled by weird-ass coincidences. Just be amused that Ron the suck-up is the one who’s gotten stuck out there. Ned wouldn’t yell at him, he’d just passively-aggressively profess disappointment and pointedly refuse to understand, then cut back his hours by fifty percent for the next few weeks.

It wasn’t until she’d pulled on her apron and name tag that she realized she hadn’t seen Ned’s mournful beady-eyed self yet. “Ned’s not out at the one-car wreck too, is he?”

Brenda, a puma coworker, shook her head. “Ned hasn’t shown up yet. S’why Ron’s still out there.”

“Huh? What’s the connection?”

Brenda looked over at her askance. “That’s Ned’s car.”

Serrano made a choking noise.

The puma held up a hand. “He’s not in it. But he’s not here and not answering his phone, and it doesn’t sound like he’s at home, either.” She gestured at the register. “You’re up. I’m going on break.”

“Yeah. Shit. Okay. Right.” Serrano cleared her throat and stepped up to the register.

The next half-hour crawled by. Professor Snep didn’t come in. Neither did the Karen vixen. Or Ned. Three Lords, how could that be Ned’s car? The man managed a single location of a chain coffee shop. Brenda had to have gotten that wrong.

“—mint syrup.”

Serrano blinked, realizing she’d missed part of that order. “Sorry, didn’t quite hear that.” She focused a bland smile on the tall wolf woman at the register. A very pretty wolf, at least. Long red hair, black denim jeans, faded T-shirt for what looked like a folk band.

“A small latte with vanilla mint syrup.”

“Got it. What’s the name for the order?”

“Sarah.”

“That’ll be three ninety-five.”

The woman paid with her phone. “One more thing.”

“Hmm?”

Sarah held out her hand and let three four-leaf clovers fall to the counter.

Serrano blinked in confusion, then her eyes widened. “How—you—”

The wolf leaned forward, eyes locking onto the coyote’s. “After I get my drink, go on break and have a chat with me, Serrano Layotl.”

“I can’t…just do that.”

Sarah flashed a zero-warmth, all-fang smile. “Find a way.”

It took Serrano twice as long as normal to take her next order, her eyes flicking between the lanky weasel barista making drinks and the wolf sitting at a corner table, watching her intently. Were the woman’s eyes glowing softly?

As the weasel started pouring mint syrup into a paper cup, Serrano turned to Brenda. “Uh, I need to go on break. Can you hold down the fort for a few?”

“Your break isn’t…” Brenda trailed off, looking at Serrano’s haunted, pleading expression. “You okay?”

“I don’t think so.”

The puma sighed and waved at the coyote. “Sure. It’s pretty slow.”

“Thanks.” She headed out from behind the counter, grabbed Sarah’s finished drink, and headed over to the wolf.

When she held out the drink, Sarah took it silently, and motioned for the coyote to sit. Serrano did.

Sarah took a sip, looked at the cup, then took another sip and set it down. “So, Serrano Layotl. You want to talk to a faerie about your dreams.”

The coyote lowered her voice, leaning forward. “You’re…you’re a faerie.”

“I am.”

“I was…uh…and you can tell me what’s going on?”

“I can answer three questions.” Sarah held out her hand, palm up. “Take my hand.”

Serrano swallowed, reaching forward. The moment she touched Sarah’s hand, the world blurred. Then something yanked the coyote up into the air. When her vision cleared, she realized she was being pulled up by one arm—held between two of Sarah’s fingers. The wolf set her down on her other palm. “Here’s how our talk will go. Ask me your three questions, and I’lll answer them honestly to the best of my ability. Then I’ll either restore you to your normal size, or swallow you whole, just like you did with that vixen and that hamster. I’m leaning heavily toward the latter, so make those questions surpassingly interesting.”

Serrano whined, and looked all around frantically. If anyone had noticed what just happened, or noticed the wolf woman was talking to a now-tiny coyote in her hand, there was no sign. “Three Lords, I didn’t really eat them! That was a dream! How could—” She sucked in her breath. No, coyote, do not accidentally waste a question. You may not know much about faerie tales, but you know enough not to do that shit.

She looked back up at Sarah’s dangerous smirk. “I. Uh.”

Sarah picked up the drink with her other hand and took an exaggerated sip, tilting her head back and swallowing visibly, audibly. “Mmm.” She licked her lips.

The coyote stared. She was going to die and the wolf was going to make her death weirdly hot and she hated it. “I think…no, I think I had the right question the first time. How could I have actually eaten Ned and Karen, and stepped on his damn car, just by dreaming about doing it?”

“You’re a dream-walker. What you do in dreams casts shadows onto your world.”

Serrano waited a few seconds for more explanation, then scowled. “That is not answering to the best of your ability.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes, baring the tips of her teeth.

“…Ma’am,” Serrano added, ears going flat.

The wolf grunted. “There are endless worlds, Serrano Layotl. The world we’re in now—your world—is the singular one reached by every decision that everyone here has made. There is a version of this world identical in all respects to this one, except that I ordered a vanilla latte instead of a mint one. So many, many worlds are essentially the same one. But by the same token, many are wildly different. Different sets of animals evolved, or just one set. Different technologies, different magics, different everything. But worlds that are very close to another, moments that have just diverged, they can…blur. Converge. Little things can ripple across the possible streams. Most often, you never notice, except perhaps in moments where something seems inconsequentially out of place. Are you following?”

“I, uh, maybe.”

“Normally a mortal dream is a shadow of a different world, a different path. Or more often, multiple paths jumbled together in the way of dreams. But last night, you walked between paths. You found, or perhaps even forged, a new world as you took control of your dream. And what you did there rippled back here.”

“You said little things rippled across the possible paths. That’s, like, your keys being somewhere you know you didn’t leave them. The sock missing from the dryer. It is not becoming a giant coyote, crushing a car under your paw, and swallowing two people whole. How the hell could I do that in a dream and have it actually happen here?” She held up a hand quickly. “That’s not a new question, it’s the same question.”

“A question I have now answered to the best of my ability.”

Serrano rubbed her face. “But why me. If you’re not bullshitting me, then why am I, specifically me, suddenly able to do this?”

“Ah, now that is an interesting question. I’ve been watching you since storm magic started being pulled across the faerie realm, from this world to another. Then, suddenly, two dreams ago, you started fighting back, and whatever was pulling at the magic started fighting, too. And last night? You held on to it. And grew it. So, you tell me, Serrano Layotl. Why are you, specifically you, suddenly able to do this?”

“I don’t know!” She felt panic rising in her voice. “Three Lords, I’m not trying to do anything! I didn’t know about whatever fucking portal goes to the faerie realm until a few days ago and I don’t know why it’s following me and I don’t know who’s sending storms through it—”

“You aren’t listening,” Sarah snapped, lifting the coyote up to her muzzle. “What did I just say?”

Serrano flinched back against the wolf’s fingers. “You said storm magic was being pulled across Fairyland from—” Her eyes widened. “From this world to another.”

“From you.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, and that was a poorly chosen last question. Goodbye, Serrano Layotl.” Sarah’s jaws opened wide.