I hesitated at the door. \u00a0There was no screen, but there was both a bronzed knocking device and a doorbell. \u00a0Which one was appropriate to use? Had I misread the cues and was supposed to call ahead? No, I hadn’t gotten a phone number. Mail a letter? The technology still existed, but I didn’t have any stamps. \u00a0Or envelopes.<\/p>\n
I decided to try knocking first, so it was less intrusive. \u00a0You never knew what kind of doorbell someone might have, whether it was a buzzer, or a loud clang, or the Looney Toons theme song. \u00a0(I had never actually heard that last as a doorbell. A ring tone, maybe.)<\/p>\n
The door opened under my hand, and I nearly fell back off the steps to the porch in my surprise.<\/p>\n
“Well?” she asked.<\/p>\n
She was very short. I suppose I should have used terms like small, or petite, because she was built like a ballet dancer, and held herself like a marine sergeant. Her face was a topographic map of wrinkles, history carved in its worship of sun and smile.\u00a0 Her eyes were bright, a color somewhere between green and blue.\u00a0 Her hair was grey like iron or steel.<\/p>\n
“You smell like demons,” she said, before I could greet her or do anything that the script of social interaction usually demanded at that point.<\/p>\n
“Demons don’t exist,” I shot back.\u00a0 If I had been polite, I would have maybe made a question of it, but I was feeling a bit ornery from the situation.<\/p>\n
“Extradimensional travellers, then,” she said, enunciating it carefully.\u00a0 “Faeries, vampires, aliens, Dragons…” she trailed off, and then she punched me in the shoulder with a finger.\u00a0 “Demons,” she explained.<\/p>\n
“What do they smell like?” I countered.<\/p>\n
“Well,” she considered.\u00a0 “I suppose they ought to smell like sulphur.\u00a0 Or perfume.\u00a0 At least, the ones who inhabit department stores usually do,” she took a step back.\u00a0 “Come inside,” she demanded, stepping back and pulling the door in towards her.\u00a0 “It’s a blurring.\u00a0 In your aura.”<\/p>\n
“You see auras?” I asked, moving into the small hallway beyond the door.\u00a0 In front of me was a kitchen and dining room.\u00a0 To the right, some stairs leading up, and to the left, a living room.\u00a0 A small altar was laid on the table here in the hall, with a mirror above it.\u00a0 Smelled like autumn, with cinnamon and some kind of pumpkin spice.<\/p>\n
“I see fools, and magicians,” she said.\u00a0 She pulled me into the living room with a quick pinch to my elbow, and a swift kick to close the door behind us. It didn’t slam – she had hit the perfect amount of pressure to balance the door firmly into the frame.\u00a0 “Emperors, empresses, hanged men and lovers,” she said.<\/p>\n
“Devils? Chariots?” I asked.<\/p>\n
“I don’t do business with them,” she said, and she made a little sniffling noise.\u00a0 “Sit, sit you down, sit,” she pointed me to a leather couch.<\/p>\n
“If you offer me a meat pie, I’m declining,” I said, sitting down on the couch.\u00a0 It squeaked underneath me.<\/p>\n
Her expression turned somewhat that combination of amused and annoyed I was used to getting from women.\u00a0\u00a0 “I have seen customers within the last few weeks,” she said.\u00a0 “And none of them have been fed meat.”<\/p>\n
“Good, because while I could probably use a shave,” I ran my hand across my chin, “I am always afraid people will fail to get my references.”<\/p>\n
“William of Occam does a good job, but he isn’t quick with the subtle.” She sat across from me, on the arm of the couch, perching less like a bird and more like a hungry puma.\u00a0 She looked at me carefully, and I had a feeling she wasn’t just using her eyes to do it.<\/p>\n
I often wished I had more than a half-taught, half-instinctive idea about shielding from such things. I know I bristle on a metaphysical level, but that might be all.\u00a0 Certainly isn’t proof against Dragons, but then, what is?<\/p>\n
“Auras?” I prompted.<\/p>\n
“Shhh,” she shushed me.\u00a0 “I’m still reading the cover, trying to decide if it’s worth opening and riffling through the pages.”<\/p>\n
“It’s not all written yet,” I demurred.<\/p>\n
“No, but the story has involved some local celebrities, and looks to have taken you outside the local haunts.”\u00a0 She narrowed her eyes.\u00a0 “Which Dragon?”<\/p>\n
“Which one?” I countered.<\/p>\n
“More than one? You like trouble,” she declared.<\/p>\n
“No, no, I don’t,” I said.\u00a0 I didn’t usually feel quite this aggravated so easily, but she seemed to thrive on my argumentative responses.<\/p>\n
“Then why do you invite it?”<\/p>\n
“I didn’t.\u00a0 I gave it an eviction notice. I called the sheriff’s office, and had them drag its stuff to the curb.”<\/p>\n
“You let it back in when it raised its dewy eyes towards you and told you it loved you and wouldn’t do it again.”<\/p>\n
“Hey, wait a second, shouldn’t I be laying down and telling you about my mother?”<\/p>\n
“Just be quiet for a moment,” she snapped, and I was.\u00a0 I wasn’t quiet like Peredur would have made me quiet, I was quiet because it was the right thing to do, and as defiant as I sometimes got, I relented. It didn’t cost me anything.\u00a0 It wasn’t a fight I needed to have.<\/p>\n
I felt myself relaxing into the couch. “How did you do that?” I asked after a moment.<\/p>\n
“It’s what I’ve become,” she said.\u00a0 She moved over to a rolling chair across from me, and the ballet metaphor followed, as she did it with grace and a flowing method.<\/p>\n
“But not what you were?” I asked.<\/p>\n
“I have become something I always was, but it’s a matter of recognition and embrace. I could have made different choices, and I would be something different, and yet, still me.” She looked at me, and her eyes were darker, more a green-orange, maybe. “It’s a lesson you will need.”<\/p>\n
“Are you a teacher?”<\/p>\n
“I have been that, and I may sometimes stray back to that path. I am a Closer,” she said. “Perhaps not as powerful as you, but finesse can do things strength cannot, and, alas, vice versa.”<\/p>\n
“Why don’t I…” I started to ask a question that I swallowed with a, “Nevermind.”<\/p>\n
“Why don’t you feel attracted to me?” she asked.\u00a0 Her smile was beautiful.\u00a0 “Because I have closed that door.\u00a0 You should feel comfortable, not aroused.”\u00a0 She made it sound matter-of-fact.\u00a0 “My power finds yours dazzling, but I have not given it leash to rub against you and purr.”<\/p>\n
“That’s like mixing a dog and a cat metaphor,” I said.<\/p>\n
“Maybe I was thinking bunnies,” she shrugged, but she smiled a bit more.\u00a0 She had good teeth.\u00a0 “Nevertheless, that tells me much.\u00a0 I am having to speed read a little, try to grasp the story in-between the lines.\u00a0 Closer. Mostly self-taught, got involved with things over your head, now trying to learn to swim?”<\/p>\n
“Metaphors are a little mixed, but yeah, that’s, um, that’s really the gist of it.”<\/p>\n
“What does a Closer do?” she asked me.<\/p>\n
I looked at her. “Is this a trick question?”<\/p>\n
“Yes and no,” she said.\u00a0 “It depends.\u00a0 How you answer is going to tell me where you’re lacking, yes, and where you’re strong. Do you want to amend it because of that?”<\/p>\n
“Well, I close things. Holes in Reality.”<\/p>\n
She nods. “Reality is like an overused sock?\u00a0 Or your favourite underwear?”<\/p>\n
“Um, both of those analogies kind of make me uncomfortable.”<\/p>\n
“Swiss cheese? Lava rock?\u00a0 Pumice, rather? Honeycomb? A television show plotline? Chain mail? No, you would wear that and you said clothing makes you uncomfortable.”<\/p>\n
“That’s not what I said,” I complained.<\/p>\n
“Oh, I suppose not,” she said. “Mesh?”<\/p>\n
“Get to the point,” I sighed.<\/p>\n
“I just think the phrasing suggests a very fragile form of Reality.\u00a0 You’re not a Closer. You’re a knitter.\u00a0 A darner.\u00a0 A seamstress.”<\/p>\n
“Hey,” I said, sitting back up.\u00a0 “I don’t think you need to call me names.\u00a0 Not that there’s anything wrong with knitting. Or sewing. \u00a0You just used it pejoratively.”<\/p>\n
“What would happen if Reality wasn’t patched back together?”<\/p>\n
“Eventually it would collapse,” I said.<\/p>\n
“Do you believe that?”<\/p>\n
“There are now three of us in the same general vicinity. \u00a0I don’t have census figures, but that suggests either a hellmouth or some other kind of catastrophe to me. \u00a0Why have Closers if Things aren’t constantly leaving doors open?”<\/p>\n
“Doors work both ways,” she said, flatly.\u00a0 “Why aren’t other places, other Realities trying to keep us out?”<\/p>\n
“Maybe they want something in here? Maybe they do, and we never find those places? Maybe Mars needs women?”<\/p>\n
“Too many ‘maybes’ means you don’t know for sure. You have ideas, but you don’t have solid facts. \u00a0You seem to presume we’re the ultimate Reality, that we’re what everything desires.”<\/p>\n
“Well,” I paused, “Yeah. \u00a0I mean, this is the place I know. \u00a0I kind of like it.”<\/p>\n
“Yet, your Reality and mine are different, are they not?”<\/p>\n
“That’s philosophical. \u00a0We share more similarities than differences, and while our perception somewhat modifies what is perceived, it’s not on a level that makes the word ‘quantum’ do anything but shiver.”<\/p>\n
She chuckled, somewhat less deep-seated and more of an explosion from her nose. \u00a0“I will leave that one for now, although I think there are other options. \u00a0Next question. \u00a0Why are you brushed with the magic of so many other places?”<\/p>\n
“I live with two cool Spriggan cats and the occasional Dragon makes me come over and babysit.”<\/p>\n
She laughed out loud. “I think you probably cut a lot of corners to make yourself sound like a teenage troublemaker,” she said.<\/p>\n
“It’s complicated,” I explained.<\/p>\n
“Aren’t we all?” she smiled. \u00a0Her eyes were more green as she leaned in towards me. \u00a0“It’s your time. \u00a0Read me a few pages from your story,” she suggested.<\/p>\n
“Um.” \u00a0I took a breath. \u00a0“I’m not great talking about myself. I mean, I can ramble with the best of them. \u00a0You know what I am, so you should know some of the things I face. \u00a0I closed the connection between a Russian sorcerer and a Dragon. \u00a0Naul.”<\/p>\n
“Ah,” she said.<\/p>\n
“Ah, what?” I asked.<\/p>\n
“I may make exclamations when things make sense to me, but I don’t want you trying to change your story for that. I will attempt,” she said, moving so one of her legs was underneath her, “to not interrupt.”<\/p>\n
“You just sounded like you knew the name.”<\/p>\n
“I hadn’t known you were the Dragonslayer.”<\/p>\n
“I’m not. \u00a0And that’s why I’m here.” \u00a0I frowned.<\/p>\n
“To not slay Dragons?” she said, somewhat teasingly.<\/p>\n
“It’s all tangled. I didn’t kill her. \u00a0I just wish I could tell everyone that. I’m sorry that I hurt her on one level, and on another, it was totally self-defense.”<\/p>\n
“Would you do it again?” she asked.<\/p>\n
“Yes, no, wait…” I had to take a breath, and it was suddenly harder to breathe. \u00a0 “I don’t know.”<\/p>\n
She stayed silent, so I thought about it. \u00a0“I…maybe. \u00a0If put in that position again, yes. Yes, I would. \u00a0If I could avoid it, though, I’d rather do that.”<\/p>\n
She nodded. “That seems fair enough. \u00a0Why does it bother you?”<\/p>\n
“How does it feel to be known as a murderer? Even to be accused? If I killed anyone, it was leaving Artur and Doloise there… I don’t even remember how I got out. \u00a0I just know She’s there, in my mind if no where else.” \u00a0I tried again. \u00a0“You know, when Shelob impales herself on Sting, she goes bleeding the foul ichor and dives deep into her webs of darkness in Minas Morgul. It doesn’t say she dies. \u00a0This is…like that.”<\/p>\n
“You left someone behind?” she asked.<\/p>\n
“I don’t know if I can begin at the beginning. \u00a0But yeah, it bothers me. There’s… there’s time lapses in my head. A year stolen, a few minutes or hours or even days because of this. \u00a0Sure, I’m behind on some television, but wouldn’t someone have noticed? I mean, really noticed? \u00a0Or even …cared?” \u00a0I think my voice broke a little on that last.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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