Snowdrop Read online

  “I don’t know,” Robin said, finding himself, for the first time he could remember, in no mood to fuck. Before he could protest further, the man spun him around and pushed his chest against the door. Calloused hands wrenched Robin’s cheeks apart. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.

  “Come on now, boy.” The farmer spit on the head of his cock and rubbed it against Robin’s flesh, pushing forward and trying to penetrate him.

  “No!” Robin brought his elbow back into the man’s ribs. He doubled over and held his side as Robin hurried to get his pants up. Without another word, he turned and walked through the Railway Rest and onto the street outside. As soon as he knew he wouldn’t be pursued, Robin stumbled across the street and sat down on a bale of hay. He balled his fist and bit his knuckles, feeling sick to his stomach. The sun hung low over the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of apricot and mauve. Robin didn’t know what to do or where to go. He couldn’t bear the thought of lying awake in his room all night, alone with his memories. How had he been such a fool? People avoided faeries for this very reason. He’d gone to help Snowdrop, and Snowdrop had driven him mad. He’d known the danger, and he’d gone anyway.

  Robin stood and brushed the hay from his pants. He started walking through the little village of Enline, past the modest houses, barns, and sheds, and kept walking in circles for hours that he lost track of. Soon the sun set and the moon rose, making the factories on the hill above the town look like dark, medieval castles. Windows glowed warm gold as he walked past homes. Supper smells drifted from their chimneys, inspiring no hunger in Robin. He didn’t feel like he belonged among people; he felt Other. Where did he belong, then? Certainly not with Snow, among the fey. Not that Snow had ever offered.

  As he passed the church for the fourth time, Robin stopped in front of the iron gate and looked into the cemetery that surrounded the stone building on three sides. Snowdrops grew up out of graves. That was why people considered them bad luck. Might some be growing among these old stones? Robin had to have one! Quietly he vaulted over the wall, in case the gate creaked. He got down on his hands and knees and searched among the thick ferns and high grass, crawling from marker to marker in search of the flowers. He found some mushrooms beneath the old oak behind the church, and a wild rose growing next to an antiquated mausoleum.

  At the corner of his eye, Robin saw a disembodied sphere of light. He stood up and squinted at it as it moved toward him. The church father, in his black robes, held an old-fashioned lantern.

  “Step into the light,” he ordered harshly.

  Seeing no argument against it, Robin did. The dark-haired priest held the lamp close to Robin’s face and lifted Robin’s hair to inspect his ears.

  “Not going to look through a glass at me?” Robin asked.

  “I believe my faith lets me see quite clearly,” the man answered. He was probably only about ten years older than Robin. “Is there something I can help you with, my son?”

  Robin considered. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I need help.”

  A worried crease appeared between the priest’s thick brows. “Come inside where we can talk.”

  Robin followed him through the silent, candlelit worship hall to a small room lined in books from floor to ceiling. A tiny window of colored glass depicted a bearded man holding a lamb. Several oil lamps and a healthy fire lit the little office. The priest took a seat behind his plain, wooden desk and indicated a chair facing it for Robin. Robin had never seen this part of the church before, only the makeshift shelter in the basement.

  “I was just about to have tea,” the priest told Robin. “Would you like some?”

  “Please.”

  He poured them each a cup and sat back down. The sweet, warm liquid felt good in Robin’s belly, and he finished it too quickly to be polite. “I’m Father Andrew. What’s your name?”

  “It’s Robin, sir.”

  “An interesting choice on your parents’ part.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Robin is not a name from the holy scriptures. Some might say it has wicked connotations. I don’t say this to offend you. It’s just unusual. Tell me, Robin. Are you a follower of the scriptures?”

  “My mother tried to teach me, but I don’t remember much anymore.”

  “Where’s your mother now?”

  “She died when I was ten.”

  “And your father?”

  “Oldest story in the world,” Robin said bitterly. “He was a sailor from Thalacea. He got my mother in a bad way, and her family threw her out. He swore he’d come back and marry her, of course. You can guess what happened next.”

  “I see,” Father Andrew said. He fixed Robin another cup of tea. “So you’ve been away from the church for at least a few years.”

  “Aye, sir. I beg your pardon, Father, but that’s not what I came to talk about.”

  “You said you needed help. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Robin nodded. He had to tell this priest what happened. He had to tell someone. “A few weeks ago, I spent some time with a faerie, and I think he did something to me. I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. I see things and hear things. I think I’m going mad.”

  “I’ve seen this happen before,” the priest said, shaking his head. “How did you come to find yourself in the presence of this faerie?”

  “I don’t remember,” Robin said, looking into his tea.

  “What do you remember? Did you dance? Did you eat anything of his? Did he make you do anything unnatural?”

  “No, none of that. Mostly we just talked. He actually seemed pretty civilized. Actually, he was kind.”

  “That is how the evil things deceive the pure of heart, my son. They lure them away with promises of pretty things and with pretty words. They weave their dark spells so that God’s good children can’t see them for what they are.”

  “And just what is that, Father?”

  “Cursed beings, unloved by God. Since they have no souls of their own, their only delight is in destroying the souls of the blessed.”

  That didn’t sound right to Robin, but he kept silent. He didn’t think Snow wanted to destroy him. Maybe Snow felt ambivalence toward Robin. Maybe he’d already forgotten him, but Robin knew Snow hadn’t intended him harm. “Could just being around him have done this to me?”

  Father Andrew nodded gravely. “Humans are not intended to be in contact with them. I’ve read theories that they give off a sort of harmful energy.”

  “Can you help me? Can you make it go away?”

  “Come with me.” Robin followed the priest back to the worship hall and the two of them stood before the altar. “I suggest you kneel down and pray for God to cleanse you,” Father Andrew suggested gently.

  “What, you mean that’s it?” Robin asked, incredulous.

  “I’m afraid it’s all I can offer. I’ll leave you to it.”

  He returned to his office, leaving Robin alone beneath the vaulted ceiling. He stared up at the carving of the twisted, tormented man with disappointment. Everyone said a faerie couldn’t enter a church. Everyone said churches were safe. After hearing Father Andrew’s theories on the fey, though, Robin didn’t think the priest knew anymore about them than anyone else. Still, he’d hoped the priest might conduct a ritual to cure him, rinse his ears and eyes with his holy water, perhaps. He thought the priest might know a special chant that would lift the sorcery. Though Father Andrew meant well, Robin didn’t think he knew much of anything. He shrugged at the book and chalice before him, turned, and left the church.

  Robin stood looking up at the sky. Even the wispy, white clouds that passed in front of the moon reminded him of Snowdrop’s hair. The wind in the heather recalled to Robin his song. Robin had to find him again. He just wanted to hear Snow’s voice again! If Snow had accidentally done something to him, he would be the one able to undo it. Full of more hope than he’d felt for weeks, Robin sprinted toward the village gate. “Maybe I’m not mad,” he said out loud. “Maybe I’m jus
t in love.”

  “Worst kind of madness of all, lad,” called an old man milking a goat as Robin ran past.

  ROBIN ran tirelessly across the moor, looking for Snowdrop or another faerie who might know him. He encountered one, a beautiful lady in a white dress with red lips. She’d licked her teeth as she glided toward him, but then something about Robin stopped her, and she sent him on his way. He pressed on toward the wall. Another faerie woman, a human baby held to each of her breasts, approached the monstrous metal structure, said a strange word, and walked through like it was nothing more than light or vapor. Robin called after her, but she didn’t return. He stopped and held his knees while he caught his breath.

  The moorland beyond the wall looked insubstantial, the rolling hills like fuzzy cloth over clouds. Robin felt sure his feet would sink into the ground and spring back up. The wall, in contrast, looked despairingly solid and insurmountable. A generator station and guard tower stood about half a mile away. The nearest gap in the barrier was twenty miles to the west. Robin beat his fists against the foot-thick steel. Three feet of concrete blocks waited inside it, appended by another foot of steel. Nor could he climb; the wall rose over twelve feet into the misty, mountain air.

  “Snowdrop?” he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Snow?

  Nothing answered him but the sound of the breeze in the grass and the echo of his own voice. Robin put his back against the wall and slid down until he sat on the damp earth. “Snow, I really need to talk to you. Please, if you could just come out.” He resolved to wait patiently until the faerie appeared. To pass the time, he sang the song Snow used to lull him to sleep. He heard it so often in his head that he knew almost all of the words, though he had no idea what they meant. Eventually, the sedative effect of the song claimed him, and Robin drifted off to sleep with his head resting against the wall between his world and the Other Lands.

  A BRIGHT light woke him sometime later. Robin emerged stubbornly from pleasant dreams of his lover. He shielded his face from the harsh glare.

  “On your feet,” said a mechanically amplified voice. “Hands in the air.”

  While groggy, Robin hurried to obey. A man jumped from the steam-powered rover to the ground and approached him. He inspected Robin’s ears and scrutinized him through a complex pair of goggles with several overlapping lenses. Satisfied with Robin’s humanity, he pushed the clunky goggles to the top of his head and said, “What in the hell are you doing out here, lad?”

  “I… I don’t know.”

  “Well you can’t stay. Do you have a place to go?”

  Robin nodded. “A room at the Blackthorn.” The man extended a hand to help Robin up. “Are you guards hired by the railroad?”

  The man rubbed the back of his neck, a sure tell of a liar. “Yeah, that’s right. Come on; we’ll give you a lift.”

  Robin followed him to the vehicle and sat down in the flatbed amongst a dozen other men. He noticed that they all carried sophisticated, clockwork rifles and wore elaborate goggles. Metal armor, with gears and pistons at the joints, covered their bodies. Other things hid beneath oiled canvas clothes. Robin wondered why they really patrolled the border with so much firepower, though he said nothing.

  A big man with close-cropped hair addressed Robin, saying, “What’s your story, boy?”

  Robin shook his head. “Got drunk. After that, I can’t say.”

  “You’re lucky we came along.”

  “Aye, I am.”

  “Ain’t you got no one looking out for you?” the big man asked, leaning in and resting his padded elbows on his armored knees. “Not a missus or a sweetheart?”

  “No, sir,” Robin purred, intrigued, though he knew it was inappropriate. “Just me.”

  The gate to Enline approached, saving Robin from any more of the soldier’s innuendo. He leapt out of the truck and thanked his timely rescuers once again. He skipped up the gravel road toward the Blackthorn, a plan forming in his mind.

  Chapter 5

  THE sun had just risen as Robin stepped onto the plank walkway of the Enline station. Shopkeepers, waiters, and clerks arrived to unlock their stores. As he’d been doing for the last few days, Robin planned to wait for Max Bunge to appear and follow him to the square, block building he entered every morning around seven. He didn’t know what he’d do after that, since guards armed like the ones he’d met outside the wall stood at every entrance and patrolled the warehouse borders in their flatbed steam trucks.

  His newfound sense of purpose did much to alleviate the distractions that had been plaguing Robin. Nothing looked or sounded amiss as he sat watching the men and women, in their conservative suits and dresses, depart the trains. He pulled out the silver pocket watch he’d splurged on and checked the time. His mark would arrive within a quarter of an hour. Robin smiled because it felt just like the old days picking pockets.

  Two more trains pulled into the station and crewmen rushed forward to check their boilers and pressure gauges. Others unfurled a great hose to replenish their water supplies from one of the towers. Passengers disembarked, and Robin watched them because he had nothing better to do. They headed toward the carriages, or to cafes or kiosks for breakfast. Paperboys announced the day’s news, and merchants hawked their wares. The station grew noisier and more crowded as people poured onto the platforms. Then everything froze. Smoke and steam from the trains hung suspended in the air. Travelers stood stone-still, their mouths open if they’d been speaking and their feet lifted if they’d been caught mid-step. Not even the clouds moved across the sky.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  Robin turned and saw Snowdrop sitting on the bench beside him, dressed in a gorgeous mint-green suit and matching top hat. His coat tails hung a little lower than the current fashion dictated, and he’d wrapped his neck with a shimmery, champagne-colored cravat instead of a tie. Robin hadn’t seen nor heard him approach; he was just there. He had many questions for the faerie, but something else took precedence, and he seized Snow’s face in both hands and kissed him hard. Snow kissed back, and both men’s hands explored the face, hair, neck, and fine clothing of the other. It made Robin irrationally happy to fondle Snow’s pointed ear again. They didn’t stop until both were flushed and out of breath. Robin didn’t want to let go. He wanted to peel Snow’s suit away and make love to him on the wooden planks. Whatever he’d wanted to ask, it seemed trivial now. He couldn’t even remember.

  “I missed you, Snow. I hoped you might come back.”

  “I came back to tell you to stop being a fool,” the faerie said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been following that awful man. It’s dangerous.”

  “I know,” Robin admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about the others that were captured. I want to find them and let them go.”

  “Why?”

  Robin blushed. He didn’t want to tell Snow that he’d originally hoped one of those other faeries might bring him back to Snowdrop. It felt pitiful to admit that he’d risk his life for the smallest chance to see the other man again. “It isn’t right,” he said finally. “I’ve been taught that if it’s necessary to protect my people, then it must be acceptable. I’ve been told that your kind shouldn’t be considered the same as mine. I’ve been taught to hate you. But when I really thought about it, I decided it wasn’t right, no matter what everyone says. I can’t just believe along with them when my own mind is so conflicted. I have to do what I know to be proper, even if I’m the only man in the world who knows it. Won’t you help, Snow?”

  “I’ve told you already I won’t risk it.”

  “Even if you have no loyalty to your own kind, think of the weapons being developed in that factory: weapons that can suck magic and harm your people. Imagine an army of men coming across the wall with those weapons.”

  “And you would betray your own people to protect mine?”

  “To protect you!” Robin said, and immediately wished he could take it
back. He flushed and looked away. “Some things are wrong no matter what’s at stake,” he mumbled. “Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.” Neither man spoke again for many moments. The eerie calm, unbroken even by a bird, a breeze, or the chirp of an insect, unnerved Robin. He thought about the power it took to accomplish such a thing. Should he really remove any chance his people had of defending themselves against such a power? “Defense is one thing,” he said, “torture, cruelty, and murder are different. Wrong.”

  “You’re a surprising person,” Snow said, stroking Robin’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I suppose you won’t be dissuaded?”

  “No.” Robin pushed his face against Snow’s knuckles. Then he remembered something and said, “Did you do something to me?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” the faerie answered. “It’s just an effect I often have on my lovers. It will fade the longer you spend away from me.”

  “What if I don’t want to be away from you?”

  “Intriguing,” Snow said. “I’ll strike a bargain with you. Leave off this nonsense for today, and I’ll visit you this evening in your room.”

  Robin nodded and held the faerie’s hand against his lips. For the next few seconds, nothing else existed in the world. Then Snow stood up and said, “Let’s have some fun.”

  He waved his hands at the people, laughing maniacally. Buttons popped from trouser flaps and ladies’ dresses. Suspenders severed and pockets burst. Giggling, Snow skipped about and positioned cases and bags in front of and underneath the feet of the helpless travelers. He moved cups to the edges of tables and slid jellied scones into the air above the laps of diners. Not squandering his opportunity, Robin went to the nearest cash boxes and filled his pockets with coins. He picked up a fresh berry tart to nibble while Snow danced around, undoing belts and untying shoes. When he’d finally finished he stood before Robin with a mischievous, almost frightening glint in his eyes. He removed his hat, held it to his chest and bowed theatrically to Robin. “Until tonight,” he said and was gone.