Her mother-in-law kept her giant, plastic smile in place . . . until Silva stood before her, stretching into what could only be called a grimace.
“We love having you both over,” she insisted, pinning her son’s arms to his sides in her hug. Silva knew her own smile was wan at the mere thought of spendingmoretime with her in-laws. “Especially if I know you’re only going home to eattake-out!”
Silva knew for a certain fact that the quiche on the brunch table had come from an area bakery, having ordered it for her own lunch on more than one occasion, andthatmade her smile brighten back up. “There’s nothing at Spring Flour that can compete with your son’s love of noodles,” she said gaily, being sure to name-drop the bakery as she turned an adoring smile up to Tannar, who was already laughing his approval.
“It’s true,” he affirmed, meeting Silva’s lips before pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek.
It wasn’t important to win against his mother. This wasn’t a battle she was in for the long haul, and she knew she was only making things more difficult for herself by poking . . . but she had been raised with standards, and she couldn’t abide amateurs. Tannar kissed her again on the sidewalk as they turned to their separate cars parked on the street.
“Careful in the city. I’ll see you at home.”
“Love you,” she replied, beating him to the endearment. Silva waved to his mother as she pulled her car door open, exhaling once she was alone. “It’s go time,” she whispered. She had a key to acquire, and no one was going to stop her, quiche or no quiche.
The storefront was anonymous; the sort of place she would have passed a hundred times without seeing. She’d parked a bit down the street, not wanting to draw attention to herself directly in front of the seemingly abandoned building, relieved that she didn’t need to be constrained by meters on the weekend.
Cities were always full of humans, and this one was no exception. She’d worn her long wool coat, a spring green color that gave hope to the end of the snow eventually, and a fur wrap around her head to protect her ears from the biting cold. It did that, and it also hid their length. Her hands were concealed in leather gloves, and if she kept her head down, none of the few passersby on the sidewalk would notice she was an elf.Good, shethought, hurrying up the block to her destination. It’s safer that way.
The windows were boarded up, and in the gaps between the plywood, Silva could see that they had been newspapered over before that. Her mind conjured images of the filth and decay on the other side of the wall, broken glass and shredded paper, rats running amok. She recoiled instinctively.What were you thinking? This is what you get for listening to conspiracy nonsense.
She’d nearly turned away when she noticed the seam in one of the newspapered gaps. Several inches of newsprint between the plywood sheets, an almost invisible cutline that her eyes followed down to the concrete.A door?Silva bit her lip as she reached out, glad for her gloves as she gripped the side of the board with her nails, pulling it open easily. It wasn’t even locked.This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your life.Maybe so, but she would waste away if she did nothing, Silva was sure of it.
The space on the other side of the doorway was empty and clean. No rats were lurking in the corners, and her boots didn’t crunch over any broken glass as she followed the line of fluorescent lights down a short hallway to an elevator. There was only a down arrow, she noted with a swallow.The stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your life.Inside the elevator car, there was no panel. Silva considered stepping out just a beat before the doors slid shut and the car descended with a weary groan, taking her far deeper than it seemed the building should have allowed. When the doors opened again, she found herself in a long room lit by hanging pendants casting a dim, amber glow that left the edges of the room in shadow.
The objects themselves were arranged on long tables covered in dark cloth, each holding only a handful of items, spaced apart as if they needed room to breathe. There were teeth in glass jars.A ring that hummed softly when she passed. A violin bow strung with something that made her shudder as she edged around the table with a cold fear coiling inside her. Her little wing trembled.
There were others present, a fact that Silva wasn’t sure made her feel better or worse. A lizardman with a long, thick tail, a beetle-like woman on spindly legs. Not all humans, and thatdidmake her feel better. The other invitees were scattered throughout the space, each keeping a careful distance from one another. No one made eye contact. No one spoke. The silence was broken only by the soft rustle of movement, as if they had all collectively decided to breathe as little as possible. They examined the displayed items with the exaggerated disinterest of those trying not to reveal what mattered to them. Silva moved through the aisles as silently as the rest of the shoppers, her hands clutched together, terrified of touching anything.
She had sent an inquiry to the shop that had sent her the book. She'd realized it was the same shop after paging through it fully, finding their stamp on the inside of the back page, a nearly invisible embossment she would have missed entirely if she hadn’t been studying it closely.
I’m interested in acquiring a key, she’d messaged, using the contact form on their website. The shop name had come from one of those carefully recorded entries in her journal, advertising their services in antiques and estate sales.If not a key, something that grants passage.
The cryptic nature of such an inquiry would have had her laughed out of any store in Cambric Creek, and she’d not been shocked when her query had received no answer . . . until the book had arrived and she made the connection with the shop, realizing this eventwasher answer.
There were employees, she realized at length, on her second circuit of the long room. They stood at the sides of the table, half-hidden in shadows, each wearing identical grey suits.You canwander in circles all day or you can ask for help and get out of here faster.She swallowed, choosing a steel-haired sphynx to approach, the woman’s face impassive as Silva meekly made her way to the end of the aisle.
“Ex-excuse me,” she choked out, mortification burning up her neck when the two closest invitees whipped their heads around at the broken silence. “I was hoping you might —”
“You are the one seeking passage.” The sphynx did not pose it as a question.
Silva found herself unable to utter a peep, nodding when her voice failed.
“Follow.”
It was on an aisle she’d already passed, small and innocuous, the color of an old bruise.
“Winter’s Bone.” The sphynx eyed her appraisingly, and Silva realized the other shoppers all seemed very far away. “It is fortuitous that this came into our possession so soon after your inquiry. Keys do not like to be held. This will not linger long.”
“Fortuitous,” she echoed smally, the word scratching something at the back of her mind. The object on the table could hardly be called a key. It was flat and oddly shaped, covered in small etchings. Silva squinted, trying to determine if it was actually edged in frost or if it was merely a trick of the lights. “What does it open?” she heard herself ask.
The sphynx held her eye. “Doors that tire of remaining shut.”
A hard swallow, afraid to ask what came next. “And the cost?”
A flare of something in the leonine woman’s eyes. Pity, Silva thought.
“You will not get it back.”
Inside her, there was a shift and a shiver. Silva nodded slowly, understanding that it wasn’t the price being discussed. She could walk away now.You’ve already lost enough. That flutter again, her heart thumping beneath the claret-colored little bird on thependant she wore.But this might be the only way to get any of it back. “I’ll take it.”
