Charles de Lint - Forests of the Heart

It turned out they weren’t the only idiots braving the weather this morning, though there certainly weren’t many people out and about. The downtown streets were like a skating rink, all except for a few of the major thoroughfares like Williamson and Lee that the city work crews kept plowing and salting on a regular, rotating basis, but there was little traffic even on them. Most of the businesses they passed were closed—confirming Miki’s feelings. So they wouldn’t bother to open Gypsy Records either. She and Fiona would just get warm, have a coffee, and listen to some sounds while they waited for the weather to break.

It took them forever to get to the store, slipping and sliding, wishing for the skates neither of them even owned as they shuffled along like a pair of old ladies. When they finally arrived, not only were they still cold, but they were Wet as well from the steady drizzle of freezing rain. They found some fellow idiots waiting for them outside the store: Adam and Titus, huddled up against the front door where they had a little bit of protection from the rain. They nursed cardboard cups of take-out coffee that smelled like heaven when Miki caught a whiff.

“Hey, it’s about time you showed up,” Adam said. He pushed the wet mop of his normally spiky hair away from his eyes. “We should have been open, like, a half-hour ago.”

He was wearing his leather vintage motorcycle jacket as usual, which always amused Miki since the closest he’d ever been to owning a two-wheeled vehicle was a bicycle. Jeans and sneakers, with the inevitable T-shirt under the jacket, completed his wardrobe, all of which added up to his being as cold and wet as they were, though his discomfort was from a fashion choice. Not that he chose to be miserable; he just had to look cool. Bedraggled, dripping icy water, sniffling from a running nose, didn’t really cut it as cool so far as Miki was concerned. But then she doubted that she or Fiona looked any more charming. She wondered if he or Titus had been shivering in a cold apartment all night the way they had.

“Open for who?” Miki asked.

He had to think about that for a moment. “For the principle of it,” he said.

Fiona laughed. “As if.”

“So why are you here?” Titus asked.

“The power went off just before midnight,” Miki said, “and we’ve been freezing ever since.”

Adam waved a hand towards the store. “Well, there’s light and heat inside. All we need is a key.”

“Which I have.”

“I’m going for coffee,” Fiona said. “The Monkey Woman’s open, right?”

Adam held up his cup and nodded. “I don’t think Ernestina’s ever been closed for anything.”

“That’s true,” Fiona said. “I’m so glad we don’t have to go the instant coffee route. You want anything, Miki?”

“Coffee, toasted fried egg sandwich, and a pack of smokes.”

She handed over a couple of bills to pay for her share, then produced her store key and opened the door. While Fiona set off for the Monkey Woman’s Nest, the rest of them trooped inside the store.

“I’ll get the alarm,” Titus said.

Miki nodded. She shut the door and smiled. It was dry. It was wann. Breakfast was on its way. And to her surprise, she was even happy to have found Adam and Titus waiting on the stoop of the door. Would wonders never cease?

“What are you grinning about?” Adam asked.

“Small pleasures,” she told him.

She walked by him and went behind the counter. Switching on the sound system, she put on a CD by the Specials, one of Adam’s favorite Ska groups.

“You’re not feeling well, are you?” he said as the infectious music woke on the sound system.

Miki took off the knapsack she’d borrowed from Fiona to carry her Hohner, the kettle, and makings for coffee, carefully setting it in a corner where no one would step on it.

“Life’s shite, and then you die,” she said.

“Your point being?”

“I find that unacceptable, so I’ve decided to have a more positive outlook on everything.”

Adam shook his head and started for the back room. Before he reached the door, Titus popped his head out.

“So should we keep working on the returns?” he asked.

“Can if you want,” Miki told him. “I’m not expecting any shipments or customers myself, so I’m just going to curl up with a magazine and enjoy the warmth, bugger the idea of business.”

Titus gave her a confused look.

“She’s gone all warm and hopeful,” Adam told him. “It’s the new Miki. Apparently aliens have stolen the old one away.”

“Oh,” Titus said.

He gave her another look, considering this time.

“Well, that’s all right, then,” he said and disappeared back into his shipping-receiving lair.

Later Miki was sitting by herself at the counter, flipping through an issue of the British music magazine Mojo. Coltrane was on the CD player, but no one was complaining—though perhaps the fact that they were all hiding out in the back room was some sort of statement as to what they actually thought of the album. Their loss. She wasn’t going to let it spoil her hard-earned good mood. She’d had her breakfast and a coffee, and she was finally warm enough to consider standing out by the front door to have a cigarette.

“Is it true?”

She started at Adam’s voice. She hadn’t heard him come out from the back.

“Is what true?” she asked.

“What Fiona was saying, about how some goblins trashed your apartment.”

Miki shook her head. “They weren’t goblins.”

“Then what were they?”

Miki sighed. She really didn’t have the strength to go through it all over again.

“I’m not making fun of you,” Adam told her. “I’m just curious. I mean, it’s a weird story.”

“Very,” she agreed.

“So what were they like? You’ve got Fiona all freaked about them.”

“They’re just these…”

Movement by the window caught Miki’s attention, pulling her gaze away from Adam’s face. When her head turned, his own gaze followed hers. Miki’s heart sank, good mood fled like the pathetic lie it had been. For there they were, the original bad pennies, standing in a line in front of the store window. The Gentry in all their mean-spirited glory. Miki swallowed, her throat feeling thick.

“That… that’s them?” Adam asked.

“Yeah.”

“They look like something out of a bad spaghetti Western with those dusters.”

They’re not funny, Miki wanted to say, but one of the Gentry kicked the door, and there was no more time for talk. The door swung open, crashing against a rack of CDs that Miki had thought of moving all morning because they seemed to be too close to the door. The rack tumbled over, spitting CDs all over the floor.

“Hey!” Adam said as the Gentry came sauntering in.

Miki grabbed his arm when he moved towards them and pulled him back.

“Don’t,” she told him.

The Gentry filled the room with their presence, laying a heaviness on the air, a promise of violence that made it hard to breathe. There were savage lights in their eyes and they smelled like wolves.

“So she was very specific,” one of the hard men said in a thickly accented voice. He seemed to be the leader. “Your sculptor, that is. Very specific about who was under her protection and who wasn’t. Funny thing, though. She didn’t say anything about you lot. Makes you bloody wonder, doesn’t it? Here you go, thinking you’re all friends, and then she just abandons you like the shite you are.”

“What… what the hell’s he talking about?” Adam said.

“Blood for blood,” the hard man said.

“Nobody here’s hurt you,” Miki told him.

“But he did,” the hard man said. “Your man who owns this place. And he’s under her protection.”