Despite her worry, Emily fell asleep easily and woke to her aunt’s clock stereo blaring the static between stations. She tried to make coffee while her aunt was in the shower, but the stained, capable coffee maker had been replaced by something all shiny metal and clean glass. Emily was still staring at it when Janice emerged in a cloud of steam, towelling her hair.
“It’s a French press.”
“Okay.”
“It seemed silly to have something that made so much coffee when it was just me drinking it. Besides, it tastes better.” She flicked the towel at Emily. “Go wash and I’ll make it.”
Laughing, Emily complied.
Janice drank her coffee in gulps as she got ready for work.
“I have some vacation time due. I can take it right away and then if it all works out, I’ll never have to go back.” Restrained joy gave her voice a lilt.
“You’ll just leave without giving notice?” Emily was startled: her aunt had strict rules of responsibility and running out on a job broke several of them.
“Hon, this world doesn’t matter to me. All that mattered was raising you. Now you’re good and raised and I can go back to living for myself. It’s something lots of people do once their kids are grown up.”
Emily made a non-committal noise in her throat and sipped her coffee.
Her aunt gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Things will work out. The rest of the court is too worried to risk jeopardising their chances of going back. They’ll figure out what to do with the children.” Patting her pockets to check for keys, Janice stopped at the door as though she had something to add. She shook her head and sighed. “Love you, kid.”
The door shut softly, leaving Emily alone.
Janice had shown her the basics of using the computer and internet. She’d tried to get Emily to set up an email account, but by then Emily was overwhelmed with information and shying away from the laptop like it was a giant beetle.
Though Emily had met a giant beetle at the Institute and he’d been very nice. Nicer, in her opinion, than the computer. She made a face and turned the thing on. It glowed dully at her. The keyboard felt weird to use: there was no angle and little feedback, and she found herself striking the keys harder than necessary.
She typed in “Polaroid film” and waited for the search query to cycle through. Emily had an idea that the computer could tell her where she could buy a lot of film at once. The results popped up and her heart fell as she scanned through the summaries for each one. Polaroid was no longer producing their instant film and no replacement was on the horizon.
Angrily, Emily slammed the laptop closed. The beetle, she decided, was far nicer.
The trailer park was deserted again, everyone at work or school. Smoking one of her aunt’s cigarettes, Emily kicked through fallen leaves to the arbour.
Charred, with withered remains of flowers clinging to it, the latticed arch looked like an abandoned roadside memorial. Which, Emily mused, it pretty much was. She walked around it, wondering if it was already active as a jump point. Looking around self-consciously, Emily stuck an arm through. It vanished up to the elbow. Swallowing hard, she jerked back. Her hand tingled.
Before she could think of all the very good reasons not to, Emily leaned forward, lightly bracing herself against the arbour’s frame, plunging her head and shoulders into the Sidhe. Her eyes blurred as though she were keeping them open underwater; then the monastic halls of the Institute popped into sharp focus. Emily gasped in surprise, startling a trio of chattering shadows walking by.
“Excuse me?” Emily tried to keep her voice casual, like she existed mid-jump all the time. “Could you get me the hare? And quickly?” The shadows flickered out as she added, “And bring a mirror!”
Emily hoped they were off to find the hare and not just to go gossip about the weird thing they’d just encountered. Emily figured that, as a head jutting out of nothingness, she looked strange enough to unsettle even a Sidhe resident.
While she waited, Emily gathered her thoughts. She was able to scrape something like a plan together before she heard the pattering steps of the hare’s arrival. He was sprinting at coursing speed, his assistant flying behind him with a mirror.
“Goodness, child, what are you doing?” He was out of breath, tiny pink tongue lolling. “Do you have my film?”
“Not yet, but I’m figuring it out. Right now I’m checking doorways. I don’t want to come through all the way because of the time difference. How long has it been since I left?”
“Only a day, but I’ve been on pins and needles the entire time. What you engineered for your route back is elegant. Such inspiration!” He groomed his whiskers as he composed himself. “What did you want the mirror for?”
Emily shifted, her balance was a little precarious and she was anxious not to fall headlong back into the Sidhe. “Could you check if this jump is two-way?”
Muttering, the hare took the mirror from his assistant and examined the wall Emily’s head. “No such luck.”
Emily flared her nostrils angrily as she sighed. “How about the one in my room? That still works?”
“Yes.” The hare nodded eagerly. “I’ve even secured the broken pieces of that desk in place so a stray step doesn’t disrupt whatever accidental portal aspects exist. You’ve a way here and way back. They’re just not the same.”
“Good.” Emily smiled down at the hare. “I’ve got some things to wrap up, like getting you your film, but soon enough the court will come traipsing through. I don’t know why the jump terminates here instead of the forest it dumped me into. I hope they don’t cause you any trouble.”
The hare’s teeth showed in an unfriendly smile. “Oh, I’m sure we can make them feel welcome.”
Emily tried not to think of what his plans might be and began to withdraw, then stopped and abruptly leaned forward again in worry.
“You read the contract. If the children of the court decide to return, can they? Legally?”
The hare thought carefully before replying.
“The contract was for the traitors, so not technically. As far as the Sidhe is concerned, these children don’t exist. They may be Folk by blood but they were born in the mundane world. To gain full rights, they’d have to be sponsored.”
Emily thought quickly. “Could the Institute do that?”
“I don’t know why we would.”
“Because you owe me.” Emily’s eyes narrowed. “In exchange for the film I am getting you and ready access to more if need be, you will sponsor these seven children so they’ve full rights as Folk to come and go from the Sidhe as they will.”
Settled back on his haunches, the hare nodded solemnly. “I do so agree.” His nose twitched with a friendlier smile as he added, “You’re learning, Amelia.”
Emily stuck her tongue out at him as she pulled herself back into the mundane world.
This post is part of The Audacity Gambit – Serialised. Learn more about when the book was first published here, see the archive and overall content warnings here, and find more of my writing here. I’m over on both Comradery and Patreon, if you feel like supporting my creative endeavours. If you’d like to subscribe to this story, here’s a handy email box for you: