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  "You're amazing, Marianne." His hand was warm, rubbing her arm slowly. "Look at what you were able to do. You brought us back to life."

  "Like magic."

  "It is. Absolutely. The best sort of magic: selfless and true." He gave her a little squeeze.

  "How? Magic isn't really real. It's just sleight-of-hand. Card tricks." She looked around the bright meadow. "Am I just crazy? Like it's a delusion."

  "You know in your heart what is true. The world has convinced you to doubt yourself where no doubt should be. You know what you really are: our benevolent princess."

  "I'm not." Her lips tripped over the words. "I hate pink."

  He laughed. It ran like warm water down her spine, coaxing her to give way. "What has that to do with anything?"

  "Princesses like pink. They wear dresses and get rescued. Like Sleeping Beauty."

  "You don't know the princesses that I do. Princesses? They weren't harmless princesses in those days. Goddesses, with stars at their brows! And where they walked, life itself followed. Flowers grew in their wake. Fields ripened even in winter. Harvests were bountiful. Animals grew large, heavy with meat and milk. Rivers teemed with fish, so abundant that the good folk could walk across the river on their backs.

  "Warrior queens, they were. Their swords shone in the sun. Their helms gleamed with holy light. Armies beat against their shields, all in vain. They laid waste to their enemies. They danced through the battlefields, granting final mercy. They sat on thrones made of the bones of the dead. Those they conquered offered up the choicest treasure to buy their favour.

  "Rescue? They could not be tamed, those queens. They were storms bound in flesh. Men, you know, have their moments. You might appeal to honour, or reason, or brotherhood. Women, though? The anger of women is beyond the petty hearts of men. Raise the fury of women and they will never forgive, never forget. They are rage itself, and they are primal, insatiable, implacable. Once set upon that path, they devour, until the land is turned to ruin, watered with the tears of widows."

  His voice went on, telling her names and stories that she'd never heard before. Despite her doubts, she listened. English at school was Heart of Darkness and Hamlet. It was Byron and Keats. It was Taming of the Shrew and Pride and Prejudice. It was Wuthering Heights, a book whose characters had been so repellant that she'd struggled to finish, even though her teacher said Marianne would love the spirited Cathy. If it hadn't been from the library, she would have thrown it away.

  Okay, maybe not. But she would definitely have ditched it at the second-hand store.

  These stories were different. There were no skirts or bowers or taking as wives. Women strode over fields and came home safely. More than safe: victorious. They swung swords and spoke at councils. They chose their own husbands. At first, when they were surrounded by enemies she would squirm, remembering Boadicea and her daughters, but there were no endings like that in Ewan's stories. Not a single story ended in tragedy for those warrior queens.

  Imagine if it was really like that.

  "But it isn't true."

  "It was, once. It can be again. Differently, maybe. These days seem very different, indeed. But some of the old ways aren't entirely dead. They may come again, if the will for it is strong." He smiled, so handsome it didn't matter that he was old. And anyway, he didn't look that much older than her, no matter how old he said he was. He looked maybe ten years older, max, and Angie's boyfriend was nearly that, and they were getting married. Her boyfriend only worked in a warehouse, too. He'd never tell stories like this. Neither would the guys at school. They talked about sports or drinking or maybe there were the nerds into sci-fi. No one would tell stories like this.

  "What do you mean? Swords and things?"

  "Maybe. This age that I see glimpses of, it's a cold age. A poison age. The world wasn't always so. Once it was a garden. We came to dance and drink and make merry."

  That didn't sound so bad. Making merry sounded like an old-fashioned version of a house party, or going to the pit. Merry...Well, things like that were fun. Or used to be. Even now, they were still okay.

  The lights danced over the grass, as bright as they were before. She'd done that. They'd been so sick. Almost dead, maybe, and she'd fixed them.

  She shifted, embarrassed at the feeling of pride. It wasn't like she'd really known what to do. It had sort of happened around her.

  But it had happened around her.

  "All of the darkness in this world of poison can be wiped away."

  "No one could do that."

  "I could." He waved at the lights. "My little family is too small. I can't yet travel out there in the world, but you could come here. You can give us life, Marianne. Together we could fix all that bedevils you."

  "How?"

  "There are few true gates. You've opened one of them. With your light, your strength, our world will be perfect and peaceful forever."

  "I don't know what I can do to help you."

  It seemed like he was barely holding on to his smile. She was disappointing him.

  "I can try! I'll think about it, I promise."

  "Why do you hesitate?" He cocked his head and pushed a bit of hair out of her eyes. "Why did you run away?"

  "I don't know. I mean, all of this...It isn't anything I know about. It's like a movie or something, not real life."

  "You were scared?"

  "I guess." It stung, and she sat up, hugging her knees.

  "There's nothing wrong with being scared, Marianne. The true test is what you do in the face of your fear. And you came back. That makes you very brave, indeed."

  One of the lights—the first one, she thought—came towards her. It shrank down, and she had the oddest sense of being examined. After a moment she figured out that it wasn't really shrinking. It was trying to sit like her.

  She looked at Ewan.

  "She likes you. Like a big sister."

  "It must be a lot older than me."

  "Her heart is still young. It will always be young. She'll see the world change before her eyes."

  Marianne straightened up, stretching out her legs. The light did something similar. It was blobby and indistinct. She tapped her feet together, watching it trying to figure out how to mimic her. She waved her hand. A tendril of light peeled away from the main body, a floppy noodle version at first, before it figured out where the elbow should be. She smiled and threw up the horns. The blunt end of the arm squirmed uncomfortably, but it finally made fingers that kind of did what she'd done.

  "You shouldn't want to be like me. I can't float around. That looks so cool."

  "It's something that can be learned. If you only stay."

  "Stay? I can't stay."

  "You can."

  She shook her head.

  "There's so much anger in you. There's so much sadness. Here, you can feel joy. Delight. Happiness unshadowed by pain."

  "That sounds pretty good." The light had two arms now, and two legs. There were narrowed parts where a waist and neck could be. She stood up. The light swooped back, its legs not quite matching its speed, but it was staying in the same form.

  "I guess I'm not happy. I mean, who is, really? There's so much shit going on."

  "It's true, that you've suffered. But just like ink on paper, it has yet to sink into your heart, to become a true thing. You're unbroken. It's why you burn so brightly. But it's a fleeting moment out in that poison world. Here is an indrawn breath. Here is the moment of silence between heartbeats. Here you don't have to worry, or be afraid."

  She didn't have a school to go to, just her crap job.

  "I can't, though. I mean…"

  She paced, feeling clumsy knowing he was watching. The light followed. It was better at moving. It almost looked real. She started to see more detail, like hair, and a bit of a face. It was wearing a T-shirt and plaid shirt like she was. And jeans like she was. And boots…

  "What's happening?"

  "Don't be afraid. She's only learning."

  "
Learning?"

  "She's curious about you. Already we— she loves you. She wants to make you happy."

  We. She shoved her hands in her pockets. It wasn't a big deal. Aside from the magic bit—and once you accepted it there wasn't much reason to worry about it—he was just a guy. A guy who was excited about her. She felt his presence all around her. She thought she could even hear him, somehow. Not his voice, but something else.

  The light had pockets on its jeans now, and its hands were in them.

  "Maybe you don't need me, now."

  "She isn't you, Marianne. You are irreplaceable."

  "Is it like in books? All or nothing? Like, can I go back?"

  "Your light dims with each moment spent away."

  "I have to...to think about it. It's my mom, you know. I'm all she has."

  But that wasn't entirely true. There was John, now.

  "I have to think about it," she repeated.

  At last he nodded. "Of course you do." He stood and took her hands. She felt a surge of warmth from him. Her heart was suddenly pounding like in those early days with Bobby.

  He smiled gently and kissed her forehead. "Come back to us soon, Marianne. Come back and tell us what you'd have of us."

  Chapter 5

  Sounds of breakfast and conversation woke her up. Food smells permeated the stuffiness of her room. Her stomach pinched painfully, and she could barely scramble into shorts fast enough.

  It was still fast, though, so much so that her mom turned around with a spatula in hand, expression of surprise frozen on her face.

  "That was quick. Where's the fire?"

  "Sorry. Just smells really good."

  John shifted his chair over and she slid into the place where the mail usually was. He even poured her coffee with an understanding look. She took a deep breath, the smell of it settling around her like a comfortable blanket, then dumped sugar into it. It was early, and it felt like she'd barely slept at all, but she didn't really feel tired, just ravenous. She polished off her plate and went to see if there was more bread for toast.

  "Feeding a tapeworm?" Her mom laughed.

  "I'm going shopping with Charlene later. It'll take all my energy."

  "Oh, M—"

  "She wants to get clothes for when she goes to university. It's going to be a lot of admiring how good she looks."

  Her mom looked guiltily relieved. "I wasn't sure if you needed anything."

  "I'm good." And she was a little surprised to realise that she was. "She's going to McGill, I guess. It's going to be weird, her so far away."

  "Maybe you can visit."

  "She'll come back at Christmas and stuff."

  "That's true."

  It was cautious. Her mom hadn't mentioned school since she'd gotten the results from her scholarship applications. Marianne hadn't wanted to talk about it, either. What was the point? The money wasn't going to magically appear. There was nothing her mom could do.

  She squeezed the handle of the butter knife, looking into the warm orange glow of the toaster. Helpless anger. That's what it was. Impotent rage. She'd read that one in a book, probably for an AP class that didn't mean anything, now.

  "Marianne…"

  "She's going to pick me up. It's so nice out. I wish the car was a convertible."

  Not the real reason that she could shrug it off. A glimpse of pine trees reminded her of Ewan. The thought of leaving, and never having to go to her shitty job again, or care about university, or wonder where gas money was coming from, made her feel like she could float even without being a light.

  They drove with the windows down. Marianne closed her eyes, feeling her hair whip across her face. Not even Charlene's restless changing of songs on the CD player could affect her mood. She doubted they had cars anywhere in Ewan's little world. Maybe that was what he meant when he talked about poison. All the gas and oil and manufacturing. That was probably poison. There was nothing like that in his world. She bet she could run forever, there.

  Ewan...She thought about how her heart had started racing. That feeling had seemed pretty real. It would perfect, he said. She stuck her hand out of the window to catch the wind, and smiled.

  There were only a couple of stores that Charlene liked at the mall, but they plowed through them, laughing at the weirdest things while she looked for clothes that would suit her. She wasn't fat, exactly, just really round, and it was hard to find anything flattering.

  "Ugh. Everything is made for little stick people." Charlene did a quick size check with a T-shirt across her chest. "How is this a large?"

  "It's Barbie large."

  "It would fit you, I bet. And it's cute, too." Charlene eyed her. "You should try it on."

  "It's not really my style. They might have something like it at another store."

  "I hate going to the plus-size store. I really need to go on a diet." Charlene put the T-shirt back. "I bet this is all out of fashion compared to Montreal. Or Toronto. Since it's so close, you know. My aunt lives there, and Mom and Dad said I could visit on long weekends and stuff."

  "It'll be amazing."

  "It would be better if you were going, too."

  "My French sucks." Marianne snorted. "Ms. Philips said I sounded like I was gargling mashed potatoes."

  "Well, if yours does then I'm in so much trouble. I never would have passed without you helping me."

  "You helped me with all of the sewing stuff."

  "Fair trade," Charlene grinned.

  They wandered down the mall, Muzak warring with crashing sounds from carts and screaming children. Poison? Maybe so. The air conditioner couldn't be good for the environment, but it was nice in the warm weather. And winter without heat was impossible. Was there ever winter, there?

  "We'll keep in touch. Email and stuff."

  Charlene looked surprised. "Sure! All the time. Anyway, this is still home. I like sleigh rides. Remember how drunk we got last year? Oh my god, I thought I was going to die in the woods. I have to come back in the winter. And you have to choose something to do. Now is our chance. College or something. Something with computers? Everything is computers these days."

  "You sound like a school counsellor."

  Charlene laughed, taking her arm and towing her into a lingerie shop. Charlene hunted through a rack then sighed. "I wish the bras fit. The underwear does, and it feels nice. I really want to have a boyfriend to show off to Mom and Dad when I come back at Christmas. I think they're beginning to think I'm a dyke."

  "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

  Charlene laughed. "Of course not. Ah, I think that's the wrong word these days, too, isn't it? I should probably be careful since I'm going to a sophisticated city."

  "There'll be lots to learn." Marianne looked down at the pale tile floor. It would be amazing, going away to McGill. Going away anywhere. "Either way, you're super cute. I bet you're going to be crazy popular."

  "Not either way! One way, only."

  "Not a three-way?"

  Charlene turned red and laughed. "I guess cities, there's lots of different things to...experience. Chances to try things."

  "You'll find someone great. Better than anyone around here." Marianne examined a lacy nightgown.

  "Are you and Bobby on the rocks or something?"

  "I don't know. It's like...I don't know."

  "Lots of high school couples break up. My brother did, after a couple of months at university."

  "Something like that."

  She wondered if it really was forever, going to Ewan's world. Should she say goodbye to Bobby? It was a pain in the ass even thinking about it. They finished up at the mall and Charlene drove her home. She said goodbye with enough feeling that Charlene laughed and teased her a little.

  "I'm not leaving yet."

  That night she lay awake late, thinking of packing a bag. Stuff that her mom wouldn't know to miss. Nothing electronic, because that didn't seem to work in that other place. Clothes? Winter clothes? She should have asked. But she hadn't
been sure.

  Was she sure? She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't say that. Not really. Not really sure. But it was a chance to do something different. Something unique, even. And everyone was nervous about making big changes. Charlene was going to a great university and she was nervous. But if she could see even a little of what Ewan had seen... So many people and things, things that were important enough to be in books.

  Just…imagine.

  It wasn't like she was walking away from some lucrative future. The world wouldn't miss her. She could stay in that place, with the lights. With Ewan. She could see amazing things.

  The night deepened. She felt as though her limbs were becoming heavier. She could hear her heart beating, not just faster but harder, like it did after a cross country run. A feeling of unease, like after waking up suddenly from a dream, washed over her. Her mouth went dry.

  It really is just a dream. Water will wake me up.

  Her fingers twitched when she commanded her body to move. She tried to turn her head, but only her eyes would move. She couldn't see the door. The half-closed blinds cast long glowing bars on the wall.

  I sort of remembered, Mom.

  She sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. It looked like a shape, like a person, standing outside. It was so still that she wasn't sure.

  Sleep paralysis. It's just my brain playing tricks.

  She couldn't tell, not until it moved, gliding with eerie smoothness out of sight. Hot tears broke from the corners of her eyes.

  The shape came back into view, moving closer.

  It can't come in. You can't come in. You can't!

  Panic gurgled in the back of her throat. She felt her diaphragm tightening like a fist as she tried to free the scream locked behind her teeth. Dry scraping sounds came from the wall outside, moving up the siding toward the window. She blinked rapidly, wishing she could keep her eyes closed.

  A head appeared, its face featureless and black. She saw long hair…

  Her body lurched. A terrible, truncated scream finally burst from her.

  "Marianne? Honey?" She heard her mom's footsteps and yellow light from the hall flooded over her.