Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,30
misery of old age than the guilt of failing to make a deal to save them. His grandmother struggled for years with arthritis and the slow decline of dementia. Maybe it would be a blessing in disguise.
“Deal.”
“Wonderful!” Poppy plucked a flower from those clustered about his feet and blew across its petals, sending a shower of sparkles deeper into the trees of his domain. “Follow them, little slaves. There will be food and pools of deep water for you to frolic in.” He watched them leave and called, “I expect to see frolicking of the highest order when I arrive!”
“I’m going.” Sam needed to be in a pub. He needed to be so drunk he couldn’t remember what he’d done.
“Before you do, would you be so kind as to go and pick three blades of grass for me from over there?” Poppy pointed down the path out of the clearing.
“Why?”
“Please? It won’t take you very long.”
Sam set off. If a piano was going to fall out of the sky as he picked it, or the Lord of Grass turn up and demand his belly-button for payment or some other Fae crap, he just wanted to get it out of the way.
He returned with the grass held between thumb and forefinger and held it out to Poppy.
“How long did that take?” Poppy asked and before Sam could reply the faerie spoke from a little way away. Sam hadn’t even noticed it was there.
“Four minutes,” it replied and Sam followed the voice to spot it amongst the trees, sitting on an hourglass ten times its size. The sand seemed to be frozen mid-flow.
“So how many are left?”
“Ooooh, lots.”
“How many exactly?”
It looked surprised by Poppy’s question. “Exactly… in numbers?” When Poppy nodded it looked up for a few moments and then said “Two million, six hundred and twenty seven thousand, nine hundred and ninety six.” It wrinkled its nose and coughed. “Urgh. Mathematics tastes horrid.”
“Goodness.” Poppy turned back to Sam. “When it’s broken into the tiny bits you seem to value, five years sounds like much more time.”
Sam realised what the hourglass represented. “Now just hang on one fucking minute – you mean I have to do whatever you want for a total of five years?”
“Yes.” Poppy twisted his cane with a horribly smug look on his face.
“Not five years off the end of my life?”
Poppy frowned. “Goodness, no. Why ever would I want your worst years? Or did you think you would die earlier? Oh! What a fascinating misunderstanding. You were willing to die sooner for those waifs? How noble.”
Sam pinched the skin between his eyebrows to stave off the headache spreading across his skull.
“Not all at once,” Poppy said. “Every now and again. Half an hour here, five minutes there.”
“That’s it, I’m going,” Sam said. “Fuck this. Fuck all of it.”
“See you soon!” Poppy called.
Sam raised his middle finger and held it aloft as he left the clearing. Thankfully, it seemed the Fae didn’t know what it meant.
When Cathy was certain Will wasn’t coming back straightaway, she went into the bedroom and freed herself from the wedding dress. She ended up ripping some of the seams as she couldn’t reach all of the tiny buttons at the back but the sound of the fabric tearing was wonderfully cathartic. When the dress was nothing but a pool of beaded silk around her feet she jumped up and down on it a few times and then kicked it across the room until she realised how childish she was being. The tears started.
She let them fall as she unlaced the corset and peeled off the stockings. She brushed her fingertips over the red marks the corset’s bones had left in her skin and remembered the new curse they’d put on her. The one her father had placed on her had been removed that morning and she only knew that because she’d overheard a brief and cryptic exchange between her parents during the reception. She’d been curse-free for less than an hour.
An experimental tug on the wedding ring confirmed her suspicion; it fit too snugly for her to pull it off easily. She considered experimenting with soap and cold water but knew it wouldn’t work.
She needed clothes in the mundane fashion and she needed to get out and walk. Cathy wiped the tears off her cheeks and pulled a couple of jewels from her hair as she looked at the wall of fitted wardrobes. The sound of a police siren going past the window reminded