Humans and Demons and Elves

By
Donaya Haymond

Eternal Press
A division of Damnation Books, LLC.
P.O. Box 3931
Santa Rosa, CA 95402-9998

www.eternalpress.biz

Humans and Demons and Elves
by Donaya Haymond

Digital ISBN: 978-1-61572-435-2

Print ISBN: 978-1-61572-436-9

Cover art by: Amanda Kelsey
Edited by: Sally Odgers

Copyedited by: Kim Richards

Copyright 2011 Donaya Haymond

Printed in the United States of America
Worldwide Electronic & Digital Rights
1st North American, Australian and UK Print Rights

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any form, including digital and electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To my own family-away-from-family, the Fencers and associated Geek Alliance denizens at the University of Mary Washington–long may you thrive, and greet each friend as they walk through the doorway with a resounding, “Ayyyyyy!”

My best friend in this world, “Aurore Ford”, who has been so since I was eleven, came up with the germ of this idea in 2002 while her dad was driving us to our middle school. Initially we were going to make a graphic novel by this name–me doing the writing, and her doing the drawing. I remember us laughing for nearly fifteen minutes over a drawing of Edofine yawning that looked like he was, in fact, roaring. Sadly, I moved to China before we got very far and we didn’t see each other for two years. “Mrs. Ford” looked at our drafts and said she was certain someone would be willing to pay for the story one day. I thank the whole “Ford” family, with lasting love.

I would also be amiss in not thanking, once again, the great and generous Sally Odgers in being my fairy godmother and making my wishes come true.

In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage 
For food and fame and woolly horses’ pelt.
I was singer to my clan in that dim, red Dawn of Man,
And I sang of all we fought and feared and felt...

…Still the world is wondrous large,

—seven seas from marge to marge—
And it holds a vast of various kinds of man;
And the wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khatmandhu
And the crimes of Clapham chaste in Martaban.

Here’s my wisdom for your use, as I learned it when the moose
And the reindeer roamed where Paris roars to-night:

“There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays,
“And-every-single-one-of-them-is-right!”

—From “In the Neolithic Age” by Rudyard Kipling

Prologue

Orphans and Hitchhikers and Enemies

Five minutes after eating their s’mores, the Fletchers heard cries. They didn’t sound like a baby’s wails, or like calls for help, but they were interspersed with snatches of song in a language none of them recognized. The very air wept with the grief choked out of every sob. The occasional shriek turned into a soprano crescendo.

Christine Fletcher reacted first. Ever since her mother learned she never could never have children again, she treasured Christine as a woman on a diet treasures her one chocolate of the week. Her looks left something to be desired; face excessively round with baby fat, and eyes small and beady. The brown bowl haircut failed to be silky, instead being reminiscent of a dandelion. Behind the chubby exterior, though, lay a keen mind, a vivid imagination, and she was naturally compassionate to all that grew.

“Daddy,” Christine said, “I think someone needs help.” She wiped her sticky fingers on her shorts and stood.

“You stay back here with your mother,” Mister Fletcher replied, pointing his flashlight at the darkening wood. “It could be dangerous.”

“I think she can handle it,” Mrs. Fletcher argued.

“If anything happened to her, you would blame me.”

“Nothing will happen. It’s not like someone’s screaming while being attacked by a bear.”

Christine stamped her foot. “C’mon! Somebody’s really sad right now, and we need to do something!”

Eventually Christine ended up going with her dad, on the condition that she held his hand the entire time. The night hung heavy with summer, and they continually slapped their exposed skin for mosquitoes. Along the path, Christine noticed wild roses growing in increasingly dense clumps. Eventually they came upon a dome of thorns, the size of a tent. Someone crouched in among the plants, singing in broken phrases. The entire shelter shook with the quivering form within.

Mister Fletcher had no idea what was going on, but he shone his flashlight into the dense growth. “Um, excuse me,” he said, loudly, “are you all right? Is there anything that we can do?”

The person inside squeaked a C sharp, and a round hole appeared in the rosebush wall. Out came the head of a boy marred with bleeding scratches. His hair was a strange shade, brown and silver at the same time, a mixture of earth and starlight. The eyes were silver and large as an owl’s with amazement. It was impossible to tell how long he had been crying, as his skin was coppery and too dark to discern any red blotches. The overall effect was of supernatural perfection; gorgeous as no regular teenage boy had any right to look. After a moment of stunned amazement, he hissed, “Humans go away now!” Then he receded into his enclosure again.

Pointy ears, was all Mister Fletcher could think. The kid had pointy ears! Could they be prosthetics? Plastic surgery? A costume? Why would a thirteen-year-old boy dress up and sob in the middle of a forest?

“Son, we just want to help. Will you come out? We won’t hurt you.”

“Away with you,” commanded the child.

Christine let go of her dad’s hand and knelt down among the grass. “Hi, my name’s Christine,” she chirped. “I like books and ponies and Zulu a cappella group singing. I go to Truman Elementary School, and I’m ten. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six,” the boy replied.

The girl giggled. “You’re funny.”

“Mock me not. I am twenty-six. My voice still is high and the spirits do weep at my archery skills. I can only sing the Child magic, and I cannot make them alive again.” This set off a fresh bout of sobbing.

“Who alive again?” Christine asked.

“Father and mother. Ai! Ai! Ah me!”

Mister Fletcher was pleased at his daughter’s diplomacy, but this situation was getting out of hand. “Don’t you have any relatives to take care of you?”

“They tell me my parents were fools, wicked, and I should forget them. I will not live with those who dishonor them.” The barrier withered, starting from the top.

“They said they were bad?” Christine asked.

“My mother had the madness, the blackness inside, ai! She jumped into the river, all laden with stones. Ai! Father saw and slit his throat. Ai!” The boy’s clothes were now visible, looking like he’d wandered out of a Renaissance fair. The simple plain gray cloak with a lily-shaped pin fastening it at the throat covered a velvety shirt and long, soft leggings, and he wore sandals. A crushed silver hat lay next to him. He sat curled up in a fetal position, eyes wide open and brimming with pain.

“You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous,” Mister Fletcher said.

“I have the Song,” the boy said.

“Your voice is very pretty,” Christine complimented. “Do you want to camp with us? You can share my tent.”

“I think that may be a bit risky,” Mister Fletcher said.

The boy sat up. “You desire my company?”

“You’re so thin and shiny,” Christine said.

“Humans are more dangerous than a thousand bears, the saying goes,” the boy replied.

“So, you’re not human?” Mister Fletcher asked.

“What a strange question. I am an Elf, of course. Can you not see it?”

Christine laughed and impulsively hugged him. “You can be my brother,” she said.

“Honey, what will your mother say?” Mister Fletcher was getting anxious.

“I’m sure Mommy will be happy too.”

“Do you have any food?” asked the alleged Elf. He stood up and dusted himself off, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Tears still fell, but vocal wailing had ended. “I can pay with spells. Humans have no spells. I know this, at least. Would you like illusions? I make a lovely sunrise.”

“One night,” Mister Fletcher said, pointedly. “And you will have your own tent. Christine will be in ours. Then we’ll take it from there.”

“Daddy!”

“No. We don’t even know his name!”

The Elf cleared his throat, put his hat on, and bowed. “With song I come to you. I am Kryvek, in your tongue, ‘Accepting Heart.’”

“Can I call you Kevin?” Christine asked.

* * * *

Several years later….

A slim, somewhat dazzling young woman–who appeared to be around sixteen– stood by the highway, thumbing for a ride.

She wore a heavily embroidered purple dress with designs of birds in silver, had equally silver eyes, and unusual hair that straddled the line between maroon and purple. It was waist length and mercifully covered her ears. Her skin was coffee-colored and could have made her look Hispanic if it weren’t for her decidedly Roman nose. Over one shoulder was a knapsack filled with gold and jewels, over the other was a quiver full of arrows, and in her right hand was a wooden longbow. No cars had appeared for two hours, and she was growing impatient. Finally, she sighed and pricked her left palm with an arrow, allowing one drop of blood to fall upon the ground. “Speed, please,” she mumbled.

A truck appeared momentarily and slowed to a stop in front of her. Inside was an overweight Caucasian man in an undershirt and a baseball cap. He would have wondered why his truck had just moved three times as fast as the speed limit when he usually drove only twice as fast as the speed limit, but the parts of his brain that weren’t devoted to vital functions were channeling all their energy into his eyes. Damn that kid was fine! He grinned.

“Looking for a ride, Tootsie? Hop right in.”

The young woman winced at the prospect of being in an enclosed space with that leech. She restrained her revulsion and climbed up to the passenger seat. “Whichever is the nearest city,” she told him, and shut the door.

“My name’s George,” the man said, by way of conversation.

“Lira,” she replied. If she had grown up in human society she would have thought that his breath was like elderly McDonald’s cheeseburgers, but in Lira’s experience it was best described as ‘rank’.

Exhausted from the effort of saying his name, George drove in silence for a while. Lira could hear him building up his courage for what he evidently thought was a daring and clever move. He activated the center lock, and with a little click both of them were closed in. “What’s a nice girl like you doing hitching?” he asked, trying to put an arm around her shoulders. She hoped the oozing flab wouldn’t suffocate her.

“I am not a nice girl,” Lira said, staring into his eyes. This was the first human she had met, and she hoped it was not a representative sample. Her piercing gaze could see no kindness, dignity, or nobility of any sort.

“I like ‘em better that way,” he whispered, leaning in.

Then her eyes flashed purple, and her skin turned albino pale. George froze.

Lira held up both of her hands, each slit across the palm. She rubbed the blood onto his corpulent cheeks and spoke three words. The first was in English: “Shock.” The second was in North American Elvish: “Alarm.” The third was in Eudemon, part of the limited vocabulary she had gleaned from the warrior raids on her village. “Sting.”

Moments later, after the trucker stopped screaming, Lira patted ashy-faced George on the back as he drove. Lira de-demonized and returned to her Elf self. “If my mother could do that sort of thing, I never would have been born,” she noted. “I am sure you understand it was merely for protection.”

“When will it stop?” George whimpered, reaching up a hand. The blood ate away at his skin like maggots. The skin writhed visibly.

“Avoid scratching it, sir, or else the damage will be irreversible. When the blood evaporates your face will return to normal. Now what have we learned from this?”

“Never...attack...girls...again…” he stuttered, tears falling.

And another few years later…

A solitary Elf dressed in green, in human age thirty-four and in Elf years seventeen, jumped several feet into the air. He pointed his arrow at the red creature that had just popped out of the ground.

“Demon, begone!” the Elf said.

“Ain’t gonna,” the Archaedemon answered. “I got here first, and I got folks runnin’ after me.”

“You trade with the Eudemons. We fought them only last week. Now go before I slay you.”

The Archaedemon blew a wisp of fire at the Elf, who rolled his eyes and turned it into a violet by singing three lyric notes. “Not bad,” the Archaedemon conceded. “Want to play asbestos cards? We can modify the rules so you’re not required to incinerate yours, Elves being sissies like that.”

“But—but you are an Elf’s most foul bane!”

The demon shrugged. “The name’s Krith. I owe some folks money and they’re going to put me on ice if I don’t pay up, so I need to do something until the heat is off, pardon the pun.”

“My name is Edofine.” The Elf sat down cautiously, still holding onto his bow and arrows. “Tell no one.”

“Ah, who would care?”

“It is not right for things to be so. Elves are Elves, demons are demons, and humans are humans, and never the three shall meet.”

Krith wreathed himself in flame and crawled out of the hole he had dug, long, sharp fingernails excavating his body from the soil’s embrace. His eyes glowed like old orange coals, and the black membrane between his arms and chest had holes poked in it. Dirt filled his hair. “You may find the cards a little hot.”

Chapter One

Refugees and Hermits and Cousins

It was fourteen years since Kryvek was adopted, five years after Lira left her village, and one year after Edofine encountered an Archaedemon. Kryvek lay peacefully, resting, smiling...

Knock, knock, knock.

Kryvek stirred in his sleep, luxuriating in silky satin pajamas with American flags printed all over the soft blue background. He still clung to his dreams of every single one of his students completing all their homework when it was due. Ahh. He might never be this happy again.

Wham, wham, wham.

“Grmfph,” Kryvek mumbled, his mouth full of pillow.

“Please! Please!” The words were Elvish. A young male voice began to sob.

“All right, all right, keep your hair on.”

The open doorway revealed a prostrate, pallid Elf who looked like an eighteen-year-old human with pointy ears, so he was thirty-six. His waist-length brown hair was full of leaves, and his velveteen green cloak was torn. He clutched at Kryvek’s feet. “Dear cousin,” he said, still in Elvish, “I have sad news. All our kin has perished.”

Kryvek looked down. “Um, Edofine,” he said in English, “why come to me? Why now? Why not, say, fourteen years ago?” The conversation continued with Edofine in Elvish and Kryvek in English.

“Forgive me. You know why. You threw your lot in with the humans, and thus you were dead to us. I had hardly any friends and I thought you might have shunned me for my views.” Edofine did his best to stare like a puppy.

“What, that my parents were going to spend eternity as ghosts wailing through the woods because they committed suicide? I should turn you away. “

“No! Please no! The entire community was engulfed in lava, and I have nowhere to turn. You are the only friend I have in the world. I would be near silent and I could help you with anything you require. Merely until I find another clan to join, I swear. Sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, gone, all gone, ai!” He clutched at Kryvek’s legs.

Kryvek looked at his cousin for a moment. Edofine seemed sincere, and he was in dire need of a shower and a meal. They hadn’t interacted much back when Kryvek lived among the Dance Clan, since Edofine had been a few years younger and much more interested in hunting and warfare, rather than the music and poetry towards which Kryvek leaned. Kryvek felt a twinge of grief, for though he had lacked contact with other Elves ever since his adoption, it was always a pleasant feeling to know that his people were out there somewhere. No matter how estranged he was, he had not desired destruction for his childhood home.

Lifting Edofine to his feet, Kryvek said, “All right. You can stay here, and I will try to get you set up somewhere. Care for some hot chocolate?”

Tears came to Edofine’s eyes. “I thank you from the depths of my soul. What is chocolate?”

“A human food, one that should not be eaten in great quantities, though, because then you and I won’t be able to sleep. Then I’ll teach you how to use a shower. You seriously need to wash your hair.”

Bewildered at the sights of a human apartment, Edofine sat down on the moldy couch and absorbed the strangeness of the television, telephone, and wonders of wonders; the kitchen. He felt as though he were flickering in and out of existence.

“Your hair is of such shortness,” he mumbled.

Kryvek called out from the kitchen, “Get used to it. By conservative standards in this part of the world, this is almost too long. How did you find me, anyway?”

“A simple finding spell sufficed. This place–”

“Laconia. The town is named Laconia, in the state of…”

“Please, Kryvek, I am in no mood for geography.”

The three-room condominium was all in shades of brown, with sienna furniture that looked as though it had been picked up from yard sales and street corners, a single bare incandescent bulb dangling from the ceiling of each room, and a tan carpet. A tiny cream-colored folding card table served as work desk and dining table. One half was covered in sheets of music, while the other had a single cracked plastic plate and bent steel silverware. The walls were covered in posters of birds, trees, and mountains.

Edofine held his head in his hands, and tears trickled down his face. He talked in a low, toneless voice as Kryvek clattered the mugs. Elves tend to be emotional and open about their feelings, for Elves can sense emotion and there is no good in trying to hide any deep pain or joy. Without shame he quietly mourned the world he had known.

His life had been that of a hunter and warrior, who prayed to the spirits of every bird he caught, every deer he shot, and every Eudemon he stabbed. He was used to killing for the survival of the clan and enjoying his own success, but never, ever forgetting the cost of taking a life. He never killed a female of any species, save mosquitoes and the Eudemon she-warriors. He was used to being alone during the day, but every evening as he came to the village campfire he watched the merriment and sang along. Though he was frequently injured and suffered the ire of Eudemon hate-thought regularly, he had felt important. Content. Needed. A simple niche for a simple person.

A week ago, all had been well. He had made his first courting move towards Faeriva, the first female he had been attracted to ever since he had become an adult two years before. He left the requisite four roses at the front of her cottage door, letting her choose between the white of disinterest, the yellow of friendship, the pink of uncertainty, and the crimson of romance. Meanwhile a grizzly bear had mauled an Elf child of the Dance Clan. The council chose Edofine to track it down and reform it, using some animal magic that would strip away the bear’s human-induced taste for garbage.

While studying the trail, Edofine heard a twig snap and he jumped up– grabbing the Eudemon sneaking up behind him. Edofine smashed him against a tree trunk. Like all the Eudemons the intruder had stark white skin, white as bone, and his eyes flashed violet. The entire effect was one of a beauty that frightened adults’ leggings off. The Eudemon’s knife clattered to the ground. The two youths were of the same age.

Edofine pinned his arms by his sides. “Kindly tell me what you are doing here.” When North American Elves met Eudemons and Archaedemons they spoke English, as none of the races were willing to teach any of the others the magic syllables of their own tongues.

The Eudemon grinned. “Go back to your village, and you will see. You will weep today.”

“We beat your kind back months ago, after you sacked the place. I thought it was a lesson you would have learned. Must I kill another one to make my point?”

“You cannot kill me. Once one of your hands leaves contact with me, I will fight.”

“We could stand here all the day long. Let us see who has the greater endurance.”

“Fine.” The Eudemon rolled his eyes. “It makes no difference anyway. It has already happened.”

“What has happened?” Edofine suddenly couldn’t breathe. A moment ago he thought the creature was bluffing, but he sensed mocking truth emanating from his foe.

The only response was laughter. Since the Eudemon was no immediate threat, Edofine knocked him out with a head-butt and left him there.

When Edofine returned, sprinting at full speed, there was no village. There were only fallen trees and a steaming clearing of cooling lava, black as his heart became at the sight. He crumpled to the ground and screamed.

“Wait a second,” Kryvek said, handing Edofine his drink. “Lava? How is that possible? There aren’t any volcanoes around here.”

“The Eudemons must have made a treaty with the Archaedemons. They can cause a small volcanic eruption over a mile all round. I was the only one who escaped.” Edofine took a sip. His bent over the mug, which lost all its cracks once his tears touched them. “Mmm. It tastes like autumn nights. Thank you kindly. How do you not know about the treaty?”

“Give me a break! It’s been years. The Archaedemons trade something with the Eudemons—something, argh, I don’t remember. It’s too early in the morning.”

Edofine took another shuddery sip. “The Archaedemons mine and smelt. They find gems and metals to trade, coal to eat, and asbestos to use for clothes, paper, and playing cards. It is difficult for them, however, to have enough air in their tunnels and caverns to support a large community. They trade with both the Eudemons and us, because we know how to supply them with carbon dioxide, produce, acorn bread, and meat. In the past years, however, they have allied with the Eudemons because our best Sky Mages were lost in a Eudemon attack, so we were unable to meet their demands. The Wind Eudemons of this area wanted our land.”

Kryvek nodded, understanding. Even he knew only the Elves were able to create the Space Enclosures, which was how they had survived human encroachment of the forest. They drew symbols in the dirt and carved them in tree trunks surrounding a designated one-mile radius circle. With the proper song and dance rituals, once someone entered that one-mile radius, it became a ten-mile radius. The Space Enclosures were larger on the inside than they were on the outside. The Elves sensed, snatched up, and dropped off far away any non-Elf sentient being entering the zone, with an unbreakable oath never to reveal what they had seen.

The Eudemons suffered from dwindling woodland as much as the Elves, but they never developed this type of magic. Instead they slaughtered the Elves in a Space Enclosure and set up their own village where the Elves had once lived.

“How goes it with you?” Edofine asked.

“I’ll tell you the full story in the morning,” Kryvek said. “It’s a good thing you came during summer vacation, so I don’t have to get up early tomorrow. To summarize, though, the Fletcher family took me in. There was some awkward paperwork, but Mister Fletcher used to work for the FBI – I’ll explain what that is later– and became a lawyer, so he knew how to get things like that done. Mrs. Fletcher home-schooled me until I was old enough to appear like a human college student, and I went to a music conservatory and am now a teacher. On holidays I play saxophone at restaurants, on weekends I play guitar at clubs, and in evenings during the school year I play the flute in an orchestra. I’m off to a gig tomorrow, actually. I’ll drop you off with Christine, my adoptive sister. She lives across the hall with her roommate, Lira.”

Edofine was getting a terrible headache. New words—roommate, gig, saxophone, paperwork, college, restaurant, and club—jumbled together in his head. He felt like a child all over again, staring at his feet and wanting his mother. “I have never met a human,” he said.

“She’s very sweet. I think you’ll like her. She studies Elf and demon culture for the OMHI, the Official Magics-Human Institute. They call Elves, Archaedemons, Eudemons, vampires, and werewolves “Magics”. My parents—the human ones—helped begin it. Do you want me to explain it?”

There was no answer, for Edofine was asleep on the couch, trembling slightly with weariness and pain. Kryvek yawned, stretched his younger cousin out in a more comfortable position and put a pillow under his head. Then he put a patriotic American flag blanket on him and went back to bed.

Chapter Two

Lawyers and Cooks and Guests

Lira knew how this was done. She’d seen Christine do her womanly duty thousands of times, and now it was her turn. She took a deep breath and stared at that little circle until her eyes bulged out.

Making pancakes had to be easier than this.

Kryvek would arrive soon, since the three had breakfast together every Saturday. He would laugh at her, Lira thought. Elves always laughed at her, and her love-hate relationship with the species didn’t help. Everyone else in the village where she grew up had two parents. Every other young female was content with self-defense (archery, swordplay, hand-to-hand), and studies in reading, writing, and the essential magics: Growth, Healing, Survival, and Illusion. They were perceptive in the thought-music enough to immediately pick up who liked them, how everyone felt, and what kind of person everyone was.

Lira looked Elven, except for maroon hair, but if she bled even a drop, her skin turned Eudemon pale, and her eyes became red-streaked purple. Anything she spoke while the blood dripped could kill plants, cause pain, or crack stone. Her temper was quicker than the purebreeds’, and she often had hurt other children after they teased her. It wasn’t completely an accident, but it was much more severe than she intended. One boy’s leg was eaten up as if by acid, and Lira had to pay back the debt by doing buckets of laundry for the afflicted family.

Her mother, Alarif, loved her deeply. However, there was always that tension in the air. Lira was the product of rape, and no male would court Alarif once she gave birth to a half-demon child. They had lived alone; Alarif did needlework to support them.

Stuck halfway between her Elf mother and a Eudemon father she had never seen, Lira sought a place where she could be neither, turning her keen mind to greater things than chopping wood and growing vegetables. She wanted to do something that would protect women from going through what her mother had suffered. She wanted a world that protected the innocent, to be an advocate for those who needed it. So she left the Arrows Clan, disguised herself, set up a time-bubble where time passed more quickly inside her dingy one-room tenement than it did outside, and studied until—with the assistance of some gray magic—she managed to win a scholarship to Harvard Law. It had been a long, uphill struggle until she found the Official Magics-Human Institute and moved to Laconia, working as a defense lawyer for the non-human. Now she had enough money to send to her mother and live in an expansive apartment with her one close friend.

Her name hurt her, sometimes, because it spoke of her mother’s sorrow. “Lira” in Elvish meant “Fierce Tears”, the kind of tears that come when someone is biting her lip and clenching her fists, trying with all her might not to cry. When Lira entered human society she chose the last name of Steele, as steel is an alloy of two elements and a harsh, strong metal. It seemed appropriate.

While Lira was wrapped in thought, the pancakes burned. “Spirits,” she hissed, chiseling them out of the pan. They curled up as if in apology.

Christine patted her on the shoulder. “Someday you will learn how to cook, Lira. Someday.” She was as round as Lira was thin, with lovely brown hair and a kind face. It was unfortunate girth, really, because it sent a message of laziness Christine did not possess. Christine was just too busy reading, studying, and working to exercise, and being head of the anthropology apartment at the OMHI stressed her into eating. Usually she was a bubbly, warm person, but any mention of her weight made her burst into tears. Currently she was trying a vegetarian, wholegrain, low-fat, low-sugar, and low-calorie diet. She’d been so hungry that she hadn’t slept much the previous night and had wearily donned sweatpants and a Smithsonian t-shirt, with dark rings under her doe-like eyes. “I need to make oatmeal.”

“Here you go,” Lira said, handing her the spatula and moving away from the stove. On weekdays she was business-perfect, clothing ironed so crisp that the creases could cut through butter. Saturdays and Sundays she indulged in richly embroidered purple Elf skirts and peasant tops festooned with designs of hunting, fighting, and dancing. Alarif sent them to her daughter every month. The OMHI had a limited Post Office consisting of five Elves who delivered letters and packages to nearby Elf clans. They had stopped trying to send mail to demons after three workers were incinerated and four used as person sacrifices.

“I think I’m starting to hallucinate Belgian Fries,” Christine mourned. She refused to call them French Fries because fries were invented in Belgium and Christine felt obscure countries needed all the credit they could get. Kryvek found in a book of word origins that they are actually called “French” because “frenched” used to signify a method of slicing vegetables, but by then Christine was set in her ways. “Kevin is going to demand pancakes, and I don’t know if I can stand to watch him eat them.”

“Make him eat oatmeal too,” Lira said. For yet another time, her attempt at preparing food had to be thrown away.

Meanwhile, across the hall, Edofine and Kryvek were standing in Kryvek’s bathroom, which was so small that anyone taking a shower banged his elbows constantly. So far this had not been a problem for Edofine—he couldn’t yet master the showering process.

Kryvek massaged his temples. He had completed his morning toilette already, and wore a white seersucker shirt, crinkly with green and blue stripes, and knee-length denim shorts. As usual, he gelled his silver brown hair in a tousled style.

“One more time. You turn these knobs, and water comes out. One knob has hot water and one has cold water. You adjust the amount depending on your preference.”

“And then what do I do?” Edofine stood inside the shower, gingerly poking the pipes. He was still in full Elf regalia, complete with dead leaves and grass stains.

“Cover yourself with soap and stand under the water so that it washes off. Do you think you can handle that?”

“You do this every day?”

“Yes.”

“What a waste of time and water.”

“Way to be sanctimonious, kid. I am merely teaching you how to conform to local hygienic standards. When you live indoors in small apartments, washing frequently becomes very important. Some even enjoy it. I’ll leave you alone now to get acquainted with it.”

Kryvek was growing annoyed with having to explain these basic things to his cousin. He knew Edofine wasn’t being obtuse on purpose, but helping him was like having a child to take care of. Kryvek’s stomach growled again and he looked at his watch for the fourth time in ten minutes.

Panic rose in Edofine’s throat, which, coupled with his hunger and disorientation, made him worried he might vomit. “You cannot leave me. What if I do something wrong and I scald myself? What if the magic governing these pipes breaks down? Anything could happen.”

Kryvek was about to dismiss Edofine’s fears, but he saw the hurt in Edofine’s drooping shoulders and bowed head and changed his mind. “All right. I’ll stand right here in the doorway and talk you through the process. First take your clothes off.”

Standing in the shower, Edofine disrobed. Kryvek noted many scars and bruises underneath the grime.

“You have to put the clothes outside of the shower, otherwise they’ll get wet.”

“Ah.”

“Now turn the hot knob…”

“Aiee!”

“I meant turn it while standing sort of away from the stream of water, so it wouldn’t hit you full force. No, don’t turn it off! Turn on some of the cold!”

“I think you are trying to kill me,” Edofine deadpanned, although obviously he knew Kryvek’s true intentions. In fact he was fully aware of how irritating he was unintentionally being. “Why are there so many bottles?”

“One is for the body, one for the face, two for the hair.”

Edofine sighed and started reading the labels. “I can see right now that my stay in the human world will be absurdly complex.”

“You find the sensation of the water pleasant, though.”

Edofine blushed. “Your Thought-Music Sense is not dulled with the years.”

“Definitely not—hurry up, kay? Do you think you can take it from here?”

“I believe so.” To himself, once Kryvek had gone, Edofine murmured, “Why is it called shampoo? Is there something inherently false about it?”

Across the hall, but one door to the left, the newlywed Tufts maneuvered around stacks of cardboard boxes. Sara patted the substantial bulge in her stomach and smiled.

“Do you think the baby will like it here?”

Even without the pregnant belly she was a little plump, but in such a pretty and wholesome way that it never occurred to anyone that she should be slimmer. She was just Sara, cute and clever Sara, a non-blonde-acting dirty blonde chemist on maternity/moving leave. Her blue cotton dress attested to the pleasures of summer and new life, full of sunny cheer.

“I ink ee ill ot otice or a ear or oo,” John replied, mouth full of toothpaste. He was a bespectacled, gangly young African-American man, a beginning prosecuting attorney. When not in a suit he leaned towards polo shirts and corduroy pants, but today he donned blue slacks and a short-sleeved pink shirt as a concession to the heat and their status as guests.

“What?”

John spat out the foam. “I think she will not notice for a year or two.”

“I know I will like it in Laconia,” Sara mused. “It’s such a nice small town. Our next-door neighbor inviting us to breakfast on the very first day is so kind. What was her name again? Catherine?”

“Christine Fletcher. She said her roommate and her brother would be there as well.”

“It’s amazing that she can stand to live with her brother so nearby. I would go insane.”

“You already are, sugar.” He kissed his wife on the lips, short and sweet.

Christine and Lira finished setting the table. “John Tuft is a lawyer,” Christine said. “Have you heard of him?”

“I don’t magically know all the lawyers in the country, sweetie. He’s probably barely out of law school. I hope the clay delivery comes—I need to go to my studio this afternoon.” Lira rented an old barn on the outskirts of town, where she worked on her second career as a freelance painter, traditional potter, and conceptual sculptor. There were archery targets as well, and when time allowed she tutored teenagers in her greatest athletic skill. As was generally true, Lira managed to take herself out of the Arrows Clan but couldn’t take the Arrows Clan out of herself.

“Where is your little brother?”

Kryvek was older than Christine, but developmentally he was about five human years behind, with the age lag becoming more and more noticeable over time.

Standing outside of Christine’s door, Edofine hadn’t felt so clean since his adulthood ceremony. He was used to swimming in streams once or twice a week rather than this daily steamy, soapy ritual. He wondered if he might be reflecting light. Though he complied with most of Kryvek’s instructions, he refused to borrow new clothes just yet, clinging onto his old apparel as if it was a security blanket. Kryvek had picked the debris out of his cloak.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he said. She would be the first human he would meet, and he was nervous. Only humans violently fought amongst themselves, and only humans killed for pleasure. Sure, Eudemons took pleasure in killing, but all their slaughter stemmed from need. They never shot cougars just so they could have the cougars’ heads on their walls. Would this woman be bloodthirsty? Elves either feared or patronized humanity, depending on the individual. Edofine had always leaned towards fear of the unknown.

“There’s not just Christine that you’re meeting. She lives with Lira, who isn’t human.” Kryvek could ‘hear’ Edofine’s anxious thought-music and put an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Cos. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Christine’s the kindest individual I’ve ever known.”

“Fierce tears?” Edofine asked. “What manner of name is that? Is Lira an Elf?”

“Half. Don’t jump to conclusions when I tell you what the other half is. She left the Arrows Clan because the other Elves wouldn’t accept her, but she is a noble, honest person. She can be a little cold at first. She’s had a rough life. Be kind to her, all right?”

“What is the other half?”

Kryvek cleared his throat. “Eudemon.”

Edofine squawked. “Are you serious? You trust her? You are friends with her? A half-Eudemon?”

“See, I knew you’d act this way. I felt the same when I first met her. She can’t help her parentage, and she was raised by her Elf mother and never met her father. She has little to no Eudemon training or values.” The sentences rushed out of Kryvek’s mouth as he held onto Edofine’s upper arms, keeping him from running away.

“This is too much for me to comprehend,” Edofine sighed. “Why must things be so complicated?”

“At your age everything is complicated. Do you think you can hang on through a meal?” Kryvek gazed into Edofine’s hazel eyes, streaked with gold where Kryvek’s were laced with silver.

Edofine inhaled a few shuddery breaths. “I am Edofine, which means ‘Courageous’. I shall survive.”

“Good. Meeting new people is always difficult.” Kryvek let go of his cousin and opened the door. “Christine! I have someone for you to meet!”

Edofine shyly stepped in.

Christine took one look at Edofine and squealed, hugging him tightly. “You’re so adorable! Aww! Where did you come from?”

Opening his mouth a few times without any sound coming out, Edofine saw purple spots hovering in front of his eyes. The world wavered, and all went dark. He softly thumped to the floor.

“Oh, gosh,” Christine said. “I—I made him pass out. I’m sorry! What did I do?”

Kryvek bent down and picked up the thin youth. “Let’s put him on the couch.”

“I told you not to be so enthusiastic to everyone,” Lira said, slightly amused despite the situation. “Especially to young Elves, who are very emotional creatures. You eat, Kryvek. I’ll take care of him. Is he related to you? There’s a slight resemblance.”

“My cousin,” Kryvek said, laying Edofine down and sitting at the kitchen/dining table. “The Dance Clan has been destroyed, with him as the only survivor. Don’t blame yourself, Chris; he hasn’t eaten anything for a while, and he walked very far to reach me.”

Christine’s eyes widened and she brought her hand to her mouth. She worshipped Elves, often wishing that she were one herself, enchanted and sylph-like. The wars between the Elves and the demons were a subject of constant worry to her. “Good glory. I need to call the OMHI—I don’t think they know. All the departments need to work on this. Gone? Completely?”

“According to him. Is oatmeal the only thing that you have? Anyway, the Archaedemons caused a lava burst that obliterated the village.”

Lira clicked her tongue, rinsing a washcloth in hot water from the kitchen sink. “I’ll see what the Arrows Clan knows about this, and what funeral rites they require. They may begin a vendetta, though, which would risk more bloodshed. It’s a tricky problem.”

“Yes, the only thing we have is oatmeal. Lira made some pancake attempts, but it didn’t pan out.” Christine smiled. “Get it? Pan?” Then she resumed seriousness. “This is horrible. We need to get the news out to everyone.” She ran over to the telephone and dialed her office.

“Scoop out a bowl for your cousin, will you?” Lira asked. “What’s his name?”

“Edofine. Ironic, isn’t it?” Kryvek handed Lira the food.

“A little bit, but I’m sure he’s very courageous when in his element. I’ll make some eggs.”

Kryvek stopped her. “No, you will not. I cook better than you do.”

“Fine. I’m a better nurse than you, though.” That wasn’t saying much. Lira was impersonal, but at least she was competent. She wiped the washcloth on Edofine’s face, placing the bowl of oatmeal on the floor next to the couch. “He looks very tired. See all those eye lines? Just a little effusive greeting and wham, there he goes.”

Christine slammed the phone down, squashing her own fingers. “Ouch. I completely forgot! The Tufts are coming over any moment now, and we have a very obvious Elf. How are we going to explain this?”

Kryvek turned white while Lira remained calm. “Let’s put Edofine in my room,” Lira suggested.

The doorbell rang, and everyone froze. “Good morning!” John called out.

Chapter Three

Secrets and Skeptics and Agents

After waiting for someone to respond to her ringing the doorbell, Sara Tuft opened the door, balancing a fruit basket atop her pregnant tummy.

“Hello—oh, is this a bad time?” She looked back and forth from the burned mess of pancake attempts on the stove, Kryvek with a spoonful of oatmeal paused on the way to his mouth, Christine petrified with the telephone in her hand, and Lira frozen next to an unconscious young man in fantasy garb.

“What’s going on?” John asked in the silence.

“Hypoglycemia, I think,” Lira said, quickly. “Ed—ward, yes, Edward, just came back from LARPing and his blood sugar is too low. He will be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“And who is Edward?” John asked.

“My cousin,” Kryvek said.

Christine tried to say something, but all that came out was, “Agtfulp,” so she went back to her phone call. Let Lira straighten this out.

“We’re missing something here. Everyone’s tense enough to be used as a guitar string. Own up, please,” John said.

Sara nudged him. “We shouldn’t intrude on their business.”

Edofine bolted up. “I was not sleeping on guard duty! I will not allow the Eudemons to destroy us. Help! Help! The lava comes!” The tricky part was that only the words “sleeping”, “Eudemons”, “help”, and “lava” were in English.

Lira pressed him down onto his back. “Lie there for now, and don’t become over-stimulated.”

“But there’s humans everywhere,” he groaned in English.

Putting the fruit basket down on the table, Sara said, “Then what are you?”

“He’s been practicing Welsh,” Christine said experimentally.

“I am an mmm,” Edofine said, Lira covering his mouth with her hand before he could say the vital word.

John folded his arms. “Please explain this to us honestly.”

Kryvek took a deep breath and pulled up two chairs. “If we’re going to have you as neighbors, there’s something you need to know.”

“Kevin, no!” Lira hissed, slicing her throat with her hand.

“You call him Kevin?” Edofine asked.

“You need to eat,” Lira said, spooning the oatmeal into Edofine’s mouth.

Edofine thought about resisting, but he knew that this female would get her way in any case, so he obediently partook of the strange food.

Thoughts whirled in his young head. Should he be afraid? A half-Eudemon could do anything. He found this experience strangely pleasant despite the humiliation. Her skin was smooth and brown, her hair the color of ripe plums, and her fierce, independent lips would be stunning if she smiled. There was a lack of laugh lines that cried out for cheer and music and poetry. This confused Edofine. Shouldn’t someone with her heritage be frightening, ugly with a deathly white color, and scars all over her face?

Wait! This was a betrayal of Faeriva, who never had a chance to tell him how she felt before the Archaedemons killed her. How could he have such thoughts about a half-breed, one with polluted blood? Hmm.

This ‘oatmeal’ was indeed nourishing. He wouldn’t mind eating it again. Oh, spirits, could she hear the thought-music as well as a full Elf? She was not projecting disgust or romantic interest—more of a sisterly concern. He did not know whether to be glad or sorry.

Lira’s thoughts were balanced between frustration with unfamiliar people showing up at such an inconvenient time and clear-minded practicality of how to deal with this weak, somewhat pretty Elf boy. He was practically fading in and out of visibility; he was so skinny and hollow.

“They’re not going to use this information against us,” Kryvek said. “I can hear their character.”

“You lost me,” John said.

“Sit down, please. Sorry that we’re puzzling you.” Kryvek slid Sara’s chair for her in the classic gentlemanly way. When the Tufts were seated, Kryvek clasped his hands. His only thought was to handle this the way he (tactfully) informed parents that little Timmy had the musical talent of an aardvark. “How fond of fantasy are you two?”

“I love it,” Sara said.

“It’s all right. I prefer mysteries,” John said.

“There’s no way to say this without your being shocked, so I’ll just plunge in: there are sentient beings besides humans walking this earth.”

Sara laughed. “Was that all? I already believe in aliens.”

“She’s always like this,” John said. “Please excuse her.”

“That’s excellent,” Kryvek said, “but that’s not what I’m talking about.” He tucked his hair behind his ears and leaned forward. “These aren’t prosthetics.”

Lira said, “Neither are mine—Kevin, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“My name is Kryvek, and I am an Elf, adopted by the Fletchers when—” He saw that the Tufts’ mouths were open and John’s glasses had fallen off. It was almost cartoonish. Kryvek took Sara’s hand. “I understand if this is difficult for you to deal with.”

Sara whispered, “Thank you.” She stood up, lit from within by some cosmic, stellar force. “Magic is real.”

“You could say it that way,” Lira said. “Edofine, keep eating. C’mon.”

“Magic is real! Ahhhh!” Sara shrieked.

“Calm down, calm down,” John said.

“This is the best thing I’ve heard in years. Are all of you Elves?” Sara darted around the room, smiling so hard that her face might crack open. Even with the pregnancy, she looked like a teenager who just found out that she was to arrive at the senior prom with the cutest boy in town. “Oh, sorry,” she said when she realized Christine was talking on the phone.

“Nice joke, guys,” John said.

Sara glared at him, pointing a finger towards her husband. “Skeptic! You’re a skeptic!”

John raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you are kidding, right? Right?”

Kryvek sang a four-line snippet of song in Elvish, translating roughly: “Color of sky, color so bright, hear the calls of the rainbow, and your blue be white.”

Sara’s dress turned white, and she clapped her hands. “Do it again, do it again!”

“Um. Huh. Wow. I, um, I remember I left something in the oven, and I better check on it. Thanks for inviting us. Bye.” John was gone, almost slamming the door behind him.

Sara, deflated, sat down. “Forgive him. He’s a wonderful man, but he needs to digest information slowly. Tell me more, please.”

“The OMHI is going to check out the site of the Dance Clan’s disappearance,” Christine said, hanging up. “Hello, Sara. I am human, I promise. No Elves or demons get this fat.”

“Oh, please, no self-deprecation, or we’ll be here all day.” She sat down at the kitchen table, automatically clearing space for her pregnant zone. “There are demons, too? Are they evil? And what’s the ‘Oh My’?”

“I would also like to know about the Official Magics-Human Institute,” Edofine said. “Lady Lira, please let me sit up.”

“Nothing doing,” Lira said, adding a translation after his blank look. “I mean, no, you may not.”

“Demon,” Edofine murmured, frowning. Spirits, she was beautiful. She was also harsh. She could have been carved from brown granite.

“Lawyer,” Lira corrected, mouth an even line.

“Would you like me to return your dress to its original color?” Kryvek asked. “It’s just an illusion. If you took a photograph it would be blue.”

“I like it this way,” Sara said, smoothing the cloth.

Christine dished up oatmeal for Sara and herself, with apologies for the lack of fancy fare.

Edofine absorbed information and provender like an uncertain sponge—the kind at the bottom of the sea, not the plastic foam ones.

“Mister Fletcher, my father, was once an FBI agent. He was also a devoted fan of everything written by J.R.R. Tolkien, and the day he learned Elves were real and they lived lives of constant danger and warfare from the Eudemons, he knew he wanted to help the Elves. Logically, Kryvek wasn’t the only Elf seeking a new life in human society. Would not others seek a modern lifestyle, and a relatively secure one?”

“Like tribes in New Guinea coming to the city,” Sara said.

“I dislike that comparison,” Edofine objected.

Christine shrugged and continued. “He was high up in the Bureau’s hierarchy and lived in this safe, small town for his family’s sake, with a two-hour each way commute to work. Because of his position, he managed to pull strings to form his own government agency with help from a few Elves in disguise, Elves that came from the clans around Laconia and had left home to seek their fortune.

“They named it the OMHI because it could also stand for Official Mental Health Institute, the name printed on their business cards. This meant if they found anyone trying to expose the Elves and demons they could whisk him or her away for a mixture of bribery, threats, and tolerance education, telling everyone else they were curing patients of their delusions.”

Lira added, “Elves? Ha! Right, tell us another one.”

Sara giggled, but said, “I don’t understand why Elves didn’t want the mainstream human population to know of their existence and refused to let anyone know where their specific villages were.” 

Lira explained, “Had history been different, they may have been open and friendly, for during pre-Columbian times the Elves and the Native Americans coexisted peacefully and occasionally intermarried. This was where the Native American legends of Star People and the like originated. However, as soon as Europeans began to conquer the Americas, the Elves were disgusted and terrified by their cruelty to foreign members of their own species.

“The Elves did their best to hide and shelter Native Americans, but it was to no avail. The massacres, diseases, and enslavement that Europeans brought with them made the Elves swear to have nothing to do with these new kinds of humans. They were naturally nonviolent, so they did not attack the Caucasians, but they retreated and adapted their time-and-space magics in such a way that they could be almost completely hidden from white society. The majority of Elves still remembered—some of the older ones literally did remember—the atrocities committed by the white settlers, and did not believe that modern society was any different. The Elves that did come live as humans eventually became convinced that humans had changed since then, but out of respect to their people’s wishes hid their identity from the world.”

“What about the demons?” Sara asked. 

“According to what we know,” Christine said, “Eudemons believe if the current civilization found out about them they would try to either take their land or eliminate the Eudemons and war would result. No one knows who would win. The Eudemons can cause natural disasters with the same ease as humans could use disease, chemicals, and nukes. The Archaedemons never have a chance to meet with humans at all, because human technology can still not enable them to survive the conditions of Archaedemon habitat and multi-hundred-degree Fahrenheit temperatures.

“The Official Magics-Human Institute’s mission is to keep non-humans and humans safe from one another, and to assist non-humans who desired assimilation to find their place in human society. This mostly concerned our friends/enemies in the genus Homo, but there is a National Human Offshoot Office, quietly keeping track of vampire, werewolf, and shape-shifter sightings. Unless the human offshoots were causing damage that ordinary law enforcement couldn’t deal with, the OMHI leaves them alone. That wasn’t too difficult, but the occasional vamp-Elf or demon-wolf causes plenty of headaches.”

“Scary mental image,” Sara murmured.

Christine made little fangs with her fingers. “Grr. Argh. Terribly sorry but you must die now to ensure my survival.”

Lira got water up her nose.

Christine pounded her on the back before continuing. “Apparently Laconia—I mean, this one, not the one in New Hampshire—is one of the few towns in all of the US that has large communities of all non-human species less than five miles away from its suburbs. The proximity of Elves and their subtle influence on the human population made for a high proportion of mystics, mediums, Wicca, and other magically oriented individuals; Laconia College has some unorthodox classes. Thanks to this, recruitment of appropriate workers for the OMHI is slow but steady. Most of the OMHI staff is humans who are delighted to learn that beings out of fantasy exist.”

Now mostly recovered, Lira picked up the thread. “Elf members are more difficult to come by, but they stay with the OMHI twice as long as humans do, and the small scattering of half-Eudemons, half-Elves does the demon negotiations. Unfortunately, we half-and-halfs hate our unknown Eudemon fathers, so negotiations never go well. It’s the best they can do for now, though. No stories exist of a human meeting a full-blooded Eudemon and coming out alive, and Archaedemons require such high temperatures for survival it is thought that they’d never make it far from their tunnels. In any case no other beings could make it into those tunnels without sizzling.

“There are several departments in the OMHI. Christine’s Anthropology division is working on an encyclopedia of ‘Magics’ cultures through a mixture of interviews with humanized Elves and meetings with a few clan leaders. Clan leaders are never willing to reveal the locations of their villages, and they refuse to visit towns and cities, so OMHI agents meet them in a neutral area of the forest. Each side brings bodyguards as a precaution. The aim of this study is so the OMHI and anyone who interacts with non-humans can do so in a sensitive, diplomatic manner. No one wants to make the mistakes of imperialism and Manifest Destiny. The sections on demons are skimpy, though.”

“Which bothers me a great deal, because how do we communicate with them, then?” Christine asked.

“I have no idea,” Sara said.

Christine continued, “There are also law departments. Lira works mainly in cases where a new law might affect Elf and demon land, trying to keep pollution and human encroachment to a minimum. Occasionally she defends non-humans who break the human law but have too much magic power to be caught and tried by a standard court. When the Elf population requests it, OMHI police assisted in the capture of demon war criminals and rounding up four-species juries. This new destruction of the Dance Clan may call for such measures, and on Monday the heads of the different departments would have an emergency meeting to determine what should be done.”

“Will they require my services?” Edofine asked.

“We’ll see,” Lira told him. “Go on, Christine.”

“Within the Official Magics-Human Institute is a general hospital for Elves and half-Elves who would be found out if they went to a standard hospital. The studies of Elf biology and physiology are also conducted there, both so that they could treat patients better and see what humans could learn from Elf medicine. And then there is the post office like I said, still in its beginning stages.

“The media relations department is probably the most important, hushing up the news when necessary and keeping people away from Magics territory. If the Elves catch a human in their village who had seen too much of the Elven home to return to the human world, they make them live with the Elves for the rest of their lives. A lot of disappearances come about this way. It’s better than what happens to those who stumble upon Eudemons, though. All Eudemon magic involves blood, and the more difficult the spell, the more blood has to be used. Boy Scout troops are the perfect size of captives to sacrifice for a highly selective localized hurricane. There were rumors that Eudemons might have caused Hurricane Katrina when a human shot a Eudemon female of the Louisiana tribe, mistaking her for a deer.”

“I know who not to tick off,” Sara said.

“You speak with words that make no sense,” Edofine said.

Lira rolled her eyes. “We’ll get you a slang dictionary.”

“You can go to Urban Dictionary for free,” Sara said. Then her face fell as she realized what sorts of slang that site specialized in. “Oh God. Never mind. It’ll fry his brain.”

“On Monday someone should take Edofine to the acclimation center,” Christine said. “When there they will provide him with a Social Security number, a birth certificate, and a variety of other necessary documents. They help with education for Elf immigrants, with job training and letters of recommendation.”

“No, no, no!” Edofine protested. “I am here temporarily until I find a clan that will accept me. I am sure you are wonderful individuals, but I do not wish to become human.”

“How are you going to find another clan?” Lira asked him. “You know full well that no Elf will ever reveal the location of his or her home unless an outsider is seeking to marry a member of that clan. Then they marry, stay there, and never leave again.”

“I…I am planning on doing so,” Edofine said, sitting up and hugging his knees.

“You don’t know if you’ll fall in love with anyone, or that anyone will want you,” Sara pointed out.

Edofine’s wide brown eyes began to blur, and his lip trembled. “Must you remind me, so soon after the fact?” he whispered. “Excuse me.” He left the living room for Lira’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

“Should someone follow him?” Christine asked.

“Are all Elves that fragile?” Sara asked.

Kryvek spoke for the first time in a while. “C’mon, lady, everyone he’s ever known except me is dead. It’s been less than a week. You’re expecting him to be jolly?”

Lira continued, more soothingly, “Elves find no shame in tears, but Edofine’s not very comfortable with us, since we’re either human or humanized. He’d feel constrained if someone went in there.”

“Where’s my notebook? I need to write this down,” Christine said.

Kryvek could hear everyone’s sympathy pouring out, thickening the air. Lira’s thought-stream was threaded through with empathy She knew what it was like to realize that one belongs nowhere. Sara wanted to feed Edofine cookies and ice cream so he would feel better. Christine felt even worse about making Edofine faint.

Sara looked at her watch. “I need to check on John and get back to unpacking.” She hugged everyone in turn. “Thank you. Give my regards to Edofine and take him somewhere fun.”

“I like her,” Lira said when she was gone. “I still don’t think telling her those things was the best idea, though.”

“I have to go with my ear feelings,” Kryvek replied.

“Let’s hope it works out. She’s a chemist, and she’s interested and open-minded. We could use her in the OMHI,” Christine said. In her mind, this justified the slight risk. Besides, if Sara went around talking about Elves and demons, no one would believe her.

Edofine finished weeping and realized Lira’s room had the clearest, most honest, clean smell of anywhere that he’d ever been. It had the scent of pine so strong that when he closed his eyes, it was like standing in the forest again. This was a great boon to his aching heart. Spirits around, what was he going to do?

Chapter Four

Quarrelers and Screamers and Gremlins

Sara watched John’s activity as he ripped open boxes, tore out what was inside, and dashed to an empty spot in the apartment and thrust the objects practically into the carpet. He did not hear her come in.

“That was very rude of you, and you embarrassed me in front of our new friends,” Sara reproached, tapping him on the shoulder.

John continued his whirlwind of unpacking as he spoke. “It was very rude of them to pull a prank on us like that.”

“It wasn’t a prank.”

“Please, Sara. Magical beings in Laconia? Elf lawyers?” He shook his head.

“Lira’s only half-Elf.”

John stopped and stared at her. “So what’s the other half?”

“Eudemon.”

She rushed over to grab the lamp John had been carrying before it fell to the ground and shattered. He had dropped it while he folded up laughing. “I love it when you’re gullible. It’s just so cute.”

“I will not have you make fun of me like this. It’s real. Look beyond your own two hands for once in your life.” Sara’s voice grew louder with each word, and her posture was that of an angry horse ready to gallop into battle.

Attempting a conciliatory tone, John took both his wife’s hands and meshed his fingers with hers, pulling her close. “Sugar honey lemon pie, it’s just like when you saw that UFO. It turned out to be a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee.”

Sara pushed him away. “No. How do you explain the new color of my dress?”

“A good magician can do twice that. Besides, we shouldn’t let some unpleasant jokesters ruin this lovely place.”

“You have no grounds to insult Edofine, Kryvek, Lira, and Christine. Edofine’s a refugee, and still a child practically. His people have been slaughtered, and he’s alone in the world except for his cousin. He went into Lira’s room and cried. People who are fooling around don’t do that.” She slammed a chair down, accidentally smashing her own foot. “Ow!”

“Sit down, shh, sit down.” John kneeled, picked up the injured foot, and kissed it. “There. All better now.”

“That only works when a mother does that.”

“Tell you what; I’ll go apologize to the kid. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m sure that would make you feel better. Okay?”

“The ‘kid’ is named Edofine. Get it right.”

“Okay. Ee-dough-fine. I can remember that. Bit of a weirdo, isn’t he?”

Sara bolted up again. “You’re just humoring me, aren’t you? You’re treating us all like children. It’s not right!”

Next door, Lira looked up from her paperwork and sighed. “I really think that Kryvek shouldn’t have told the Tufts about our species.”

“What’s going on?” Christine asked, briefly stopping from sweeping the floor. “I can’t hear as well as you do.”

“They’re fighting over whether Sara or John is the one being foolish.”

“Someone among our social circle is foolish, anyway.”

Edofine ran to the door when he heard the knock. He’d been looking through Kryvek’s books and CDs, not sure what to make of the titles. In Elf villages one family in the community usually had a hut crammed with books: histories, magical poetry, tutorials on mathematics, plays for the yearly acting festival, and English schoolbooks. The other Elves provided goods and services on a barter system whenever they wanted to borrow books. Sometimes someone added a book, and if it became popular, the bookkeeping Elves painstakingly copied it by hand and distributed it to other clans during the semi-annual clan meetings, where members of different clans discussed their needs, met one another, and often fell in love. Used to this approach, the dizzying array of media in Kryvek’s apartment unsettled Edofine. Humans were so concerned with quantity rather than quality, he thought.

John stood in the doorway, with Sara standing behind and prodding him. “I came to say I’m sorry for walking out on you and your cousin. Where is your cousin?”

“He went to his ‘concert’. I am not sure what it is. Some form of celebration?” Edofine’s liquid amber eyes stared at John, starting at his feet and moving up to his head. “Excuse me, but have you been burned very badly? Are you in pain? I know some healing song, but it would be felicitous if I had someone helping me.”

It was as though a rhinoceros had ambled into the room and everyone was trying to figure out what to do next. John’s hand curled into a fist.

Sara pulled John’s hand back. “He’s not being racist. He’s never seen a black man before.”

“Black?” Edofine asked. “Is this a subspecies?”

“A race. There is actually barely any DNA difference whatsoever between the different races, but people keep making it a big deal,” John said through clenched teeth.

“What have I said wrong?” Edofine looked back and forth from the two humans, nervously rubbing his velveteen tunic. He seemed to dwindle from his already young, gawky persona to a childlike confusion.

“I didn’t come here to be insulted,” John muttered, turning around and leaving.

Edofine clutched Sara in desperation, holding onto her waist as if she was the only the keeping him from blowing away in the tempest. “What have I done? Lady Sara, I beseech you to render assistance. I make mistake upon mistake, and this is merely my first day. Kryvek wanted me to cleanse his home, and he showed me how to operate that machine, but it makes such a noise and the suction created a lesion on my foot.” He was barefoot, with a red ring on his left foot that looked as if he’d been attacked by an octopus. He pointed at the vacuum cleaner with great trepidation.

Sara peeled the Elf away. “Poor Edofine. I’ll help you. Let me go back to my apartment for just a moment, and I’ll get a book you should read. It’ll make everything less confusing.”

Moments later, in the Tufts’ apartment, John paused from hanging up posters of Bruce Springsteen to ask, “What are you doing?”

“We have The New Way Things Work, don’t we? It’s that picture book with the mammoths that explain machines?”

“Why do you need it?”

“For Edofine.”

If John sighed any deeper than he did now, his diaphragm would bend permanently out of shape. “Okay. Go humor the boy, and leave your husband to do all the unpacking himself.”

“You really know how the play the martyr.” Sara retrieved the book and kissed him on the cheek, but it received the same response as kissing the door. A shrill scream echoed from Kryvek’s apartment, and she hurried back. She left John knee-deep in bubble wrap, which for solace he began to pop, giggling occasionally, and then sighing again.

Roses climbed over the beige, formerly blank walls in the Elves’ abode, all peach and yellow, growing at a sped-up pace. By the time Sara took in the whole scene, several generations had budded, bloomed, and withered. The furniture disappeared in thorns entwined on every surface. Edofine stood before the television, shrieking in Elvish and pointing.

“Edofine! It’s okay!” Sara gingerly tiptoed over to the distraught youth, massaging his shoulders. “You need to reverse what you just did. Sssh, it’s okay. Don’t freak.”

“There are prisoners in the box,” Edofine replied, his voice shaky. “I pressed a button and a dark screen lifted, and all those wee sick Archaedemons are trapped inside. Kryvek told me not to turn it on, but why would he do such a cruel thing?”

“What makes you think those are Archaedemons?”

“Only Archaedemons can make themselves small enough. Are Archaedemons a legend to you too? Kryvek said you do not believe in the Loch Ness Monster either.”

“To start with, those aren’t people. They’re images of people far away, replicated for entertainment. And Nessie is real?”

“Oh, yes, indeed she is. It is a she, incidentally. There are Yetis in Tibet, too, but I have not heard of any large-foot creature in this land.” Edofine finally observed the bizarre growths he had wreaked, and he closed his eyes, waved his hands, and sang for two minutes, a calm, slow tune. The flowers shrank towards the floor until they disappeared.

“You could make a fortune as a florist,” Sara said.

“Roses are very soothing to Elves,” Edofine explained. “Their beauty is calming, and their thorns are protecting. Screams of fear and cries of grief have a tendency to invoke their need and splendor. Fortunately every child knows how to take them away again.” He turned to the TV, cocking his head and staring at the soap opera, where four women were busy sobbing hysterically. “So these are in the similitude of plays? Except in a box?”

“Yes. Why didn’t Kryvek explain that to you?”

“Well, he did warn me against it. He seemed in a dreadful hurry to reach his gog.”

“I think you mean ‘gig’.”

“Oh. I thank you kindly for helping me. What is that book?”

“It explains how the common human technologies work. I thought it might help you be less afraid.” Sara handed him the thick hardcover volume, with its picture of a cartoon wooly mammoth on the cover. “The mammoths are an analogy, a way to provide amusement during the explanations, as it were. The actual inventions don’t really involve mammoths.”

“Peculiar. Humans killed all the mammoths in the ancient days,” Edofine murmured, sitting down on the couch.

Sara smiled and retrieved the vacuum cleaner, sucking up the ankle-deep debris of dead leaves and flower petals that had not vanished. When she asked him how that worked, Edofine explained that Elf magic only governed living things, information, and appearances. He listened attentively to Sara’s explanation of how to use different household objects. They reviewed the uses of the toaster, the stovetop, the microwave, the radio, and all the lighting. She was about to explain the importance of the oven when yet another shriek sounded through the building. Sara heard only noise, but Edofine heard words.

The first thing he heard was the voice of a frightened old woman. “Ammon! Get the broom! There’s a gremlin in our oven!”

The equally aged man shouted, “Don’t be silly, Abish. There’s no such thing as gremlins.”

A third voice, high-pitched yet gravelly, and very indignant, snapped, “I ain’t a gremlin. I’m an Archaedemon. Sorry for falling asleep in your home, but I barely got the mass to go two more steps. Let me warm up a smidgen more and I’ll be on my merry way.”

Edofine stiffened. “Not him.”

“What? Who? Huh?” Sara asked.

“Get out!” screamed the woman next door.

“Aw, go way, you wrinkly bat!” replied the Archaedemon.

“Not him,” Edofine moaned. He ran out of Kryvek’s place and banged down the Youngs’ apartment door. Abish Young whacked with a broom at a tiny figure the size of a garden gnome with pale peach coloring and black hair, clad only in black asbestos pants. The Archaedemon—for that was the gnome-sized being—shivered and ran back and forth, dodging the broom. Everywhere he stepped left burned black footprints.

Edofine sang and blew on his hands, which turned them blue, and he scooped up the Archaedemon. “Forgive him for intruding, but he was looking for me. Take deep breaths and meditate, mistress. I will return to repair your door and tiling.”

Mrs. Young took one look at Edofine’s clothing and dropped both the broom and her body to the floor.

“About time,” the Archaedemon squeaked. He ignited himself like the Human Torch, but Edofine’s quick spell prevented the fire from scorching his palms. As the Archaedemon burned, he shrank even further until he was the size of Edofine’s thumb. “Hurry.”

“You fool! You thought I would listen to you, after what your people did to my home?”

“Explain...later...I’m...dying...” The voice grew softer with each word.

“Sara! Sara! How do I heat him?” Edofine asked, dashing into the kitchen.

“What is that thing?” Sara asked.

“No time! He has lost his color already, and he will dwindle into nothingness soon. I need to heat him hundreds of degrees.”

“A hot bath?”

“Not hot enough. We need something that will cook meat.”

“The oven?”

Edofine threw the Archaedemon in the oven and slammed it shut. Sara turned the dials to six hundred degrees Fahrenheit, along with the light switch. Edofine bent down and watched the figure inside through the window. “He will survive. The fool,” he repeated. “That is an Archaedemon, Sara. This one is named Krith. He is the lowest of the low, a scoundrel, a debtor, a gambler, and an alcoholic. He is also a member of the tribe that destroyed my village.”

“Then why did you save his life?”

“I could hardly watch a helpless creature die, could I? What kind of monster would that make me?”

“Are they all that small?”

“Only when they have been cold for a long time. They convert their mass into energy, burning their size to keep their bodies warm. As Krith heats, he will grow until he is my size. They also lose their circulation, so they go from bright red to a more human tone. Except for the color your husband is. Why was he so angry with me?”

While Edofine watched Krith, who had fallen fallen asleep, Sara did her best to summarize the concept of racism and the long history of the African American. Edofine found it ludicrous that humans drew lines of distinction within their own species. Sara pointed out that Elves drew lines of distinction within their own genus.

“That is a different matter entirely,” Edofine argued. “Humans really are untrustworthy. I cannot fathom why Kryvek likes them so much.”

Sara was about to say, “You hypocrite, I’m human,” but she let it go. He was going through enough at moment already. Maybe his lapse of memory meant he accepted her.

When she returned to John, she said, “There’s something in Kryvek’s apartment that will make you believe.”

“I’m not going over there, Sara. You shouldn’t spend so much time with those creeps.” John had taken the TV out first thing, and he sat sulking, watching football.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” Sara replied, folding her arms.

“But baby!” John protested.

“I don’t want to talk right now.” In another hour, Sara thought, she would visit Edofine to see if Krith had reached full size yet.

Chapter Five

Squatters and Tenants and Landlords

Kryvek hummed the symphony all the way up the five floors he climbed to reach his apartment. A woman in the concert audience came up to the stage after the performance was over, shyly confiding to him that she had a fondness for flutists. He had her phone number in his back pants pocket. Reaching a crescendo at the top of the stairs, he flung his suit coat in the air and caught it again.

His tuneful course stopped when he opened the door to his home. Edofine was washing the windows innocently enough, but both his thought-music and unnaturally fixed smile communicated tension. “Cousin…” Edofine began.

Kryvek held up a finger. “Wait. Let me guess. Did you break something?”

“No.”

“Did you kill one of my ferns?”

“No. They grew a few extra inches, for they like my song.”

“Did you frighten the neighbors?”

“No. They frightened me, staring at me with such manners.”

“Did you…”

“Cease this line of inquiry! I could not help this wrong from coming to pass; Krith was in death’s forest.” Edofine scurried to put away the Windex and rag, returning with a red face. “He is within your oven.”

Who was in what now? Kryvek leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. “Explain.”

“Look in the oven,” Edofine replied, pulling him up and leading him over.

Through the heat resistant glass, Kryvek saw the shelves had been pulled out to accommodate the presence of what appeared to be a sleeping half-naked, hot pink three-year-old. However, the head wasn’t disproportionately large the way children’s were, and human children didn’t have bat-like wing membranes stretching from their arms to their backs, positioned like the parachutes of flying squirrels. The ears were also pointy—not the delicately curved tips of the Elf kind, but angular, sharp shapes. If someone added horns and a tail, the being inside the oven would be a perfect devil.

“Why is there an Archaedemon in my kitchen? Where did you put the racks?” It had only been one day and Kryvek already felt like a parent explaining to a son that just because something followed him home didn’t mean they could keep it.

“I removed them so Krith would have room to grow. Once he reaches full size, though, I know not what we shall do.”

“Let me ask this in Elvish, and slowly.” Kryvek switched languages. “Why is he here?”

“He tracked me here, and he did not have the mass to return. He burned so much of himself in his effort to stay warm I could cradle him in one hand. What should we do?”

Kryvek took another glance at Krith, then put one hand on each side of Edofine’s head and pulled it towards his face, so their noses almost touched and he could look directly into his eyes. A traditional Elf will never outright lie (though Kryvek had been forced to start in order to conceal his nature in the human world), but one held this way would find it painful to tell even an evasive truth. “Why did he follow you?”

Edofine trembled, emotions all dissonance. “He is my, well, I must admit that, er, you see, a strange occurrence came to pass when I was hunting one day, and...”

“To the point, please. This is my apartment at stake.”

“We are friends.” Edofine wrenched himself away and dove onto the decrepit green couch, which creaked as he put pillows over his head. The admission embarrassed him so much he couldn’t stand to reveal his face to his elder.

The only thing Kryvek could think to do was to stand and blink. “You think something’s wrong with me for living with humans.”

“I know.”

“I mean, humans don’t try to kill us, for the most part.”

“I know.”

“Humans don’t live underground in magma vents and blow flames at one another in contests and drink boiling whiskey and have open, depraved sexual orgies with great regularity—um, okay, maybe they do. Some of them. But they don’t, say, sanction the complete destruction of villages. They do it, but they don’t sanction it. You see the difference?”

“You understand me not. Have you any idea how frightening, how hungry and aching the days were when I sought game in drought, knowing at any moment a Eudemon might attack and slit my throat? Have you slept with your sword at your side, buried headless or incinerated bodies month after month, or shivered in winter storms? No, no, no!”

“I feel for you, but I don’t follow you. The bodies were incinerated because of the Archaedemons.”

“Krith never did such things.”

“How do you know?”

“We know when people tell the truth, imbecile. Besides, in the snowy days I knew that if I could find him, he would provide fire, some conversation... He was shunned by other demons for his pacifist ways and his gentle nature, coupled with his severe dislike of any sort of labor. I told him work ethics are vital, but I never managed to convince him so.”

“Come out of the pillows, Edofine. You look ridiculous.”

Edofine obediently emerged, picking at his coat. “I was lonely. That is the only explanation I have to offer.”

Kryvek sat down next to him. “Okay. I get now why you’re friends. Why did he risk hypothermia to find you?”

“You ‘get’ it? Have I given something to you?”

“I mean I understand. That’s a secondary meaning of ‘get’.”

“Oh.” Edofine folded his arms and sighed. “I know not why he came. I would have asked, but alas, he is overcome with weariness.”

The oven door opened an inch, and a drawling voice asked, “Got anything to eat round this joint?” Krith shivered from the heat escaping his small cave. His eyes glowed orange, dancing with fire surrounding two black coals. His skin had finally reached the healthy cooked lobster color, though he was still slightly pale for one of his species. “I wouldn’t mind a smoke, either, but I doubt you got any of those demon cigars with the high heat resistance.”

“You are squatting in my kitchen without an invitation,” Kryvek said.

“Sorry. They kicked me out.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Everyone. All the other Archaedemons voted on it. I’m in exile.”

Edofine and Kryvek both groaned. “Spirits,” Edofine murmured. “What did you do? Was it the debts?”

“Kind of. I owe round about two hundred pounds of asbestos, six hundred rubies, and one and a half tons of gold. The rest was because I tried to make them not ruin your village. Thanks a lot, Ed.”

“So you blame me for your aberrations? If your surface temperature were not of such heat to give me third-degree burns, I would strangle you at this very moment.”

He smirked. “No you wouldn’t. You’re a softie.”

“I suppose I must thank you for your peace-keeping efforts.” Edofine swung open the oven door so he could see his friend better.

Krith gasped and burst into flame, rubbing his hands all over his bare chest. “You’re gonna make me shrink again!”

“And this should worry me? We cannot have you grow to full size, for then we would have nowhere to put you.”

“Why do we assume that Krith is going to remain in there at all?” Kryvek protested.

The Archaedemon and the other Elf stared at him. “We could not leave him to die,” Edofine said.

“Listen to the kid, mister.” Krith coughed and shivered. “You’re making me cold.”

“Edofine is family, and his presence is acceptable. You are not related to me, and I have no guarantees that you won’t try to burn this place down, or kill me, or frighten the neighbors.”

“I kind of did already,” Krith murmured.

Kryvek decided to take some aspirin. “On Monday we will go to the OMHI. We will have them relocate Krith somewhere sufficiently warm, all right? I’m already in trouble with Mister Yale.”

“Who is this Mister Yale?” Edofine asked.

“I am.”

Edofine slammed the oven closed—catching the tip of Krith’s left ear in the process—and stood in front of it at attention. Kryvek stiffened and plastered on an ingratiating smile. The two Elves stared at the newcomer. Mister Yale was the owner of Pleasant View Apartments, dressed in a hideous brown suit and lime green tie. He was in his forties with a bulging stomach to match, imperious and stern. He also had severe anxiety problems and Edofine could both hear his neurosis and see his hands twitch.

“Who is this, Fletcher?” Mister Yale asked, pointing a thick finger with a cracked brown nail at Edofine.

“My cousin, just visiting for a few weeks,” Kryvek replied. “Would you like to sit down? Have something to drink, maybe?”

“I prefer to stand,” Mister Yale said.

“Hello,” Edofine mumbled, waving.

“Let me make this clear. The Youngs have another complaint. They said a lunatic in lady clothes broke down their door, burned spots in the floor, and cursed at them. They described this young man exactly.”

“Excuse me, sir, but what I am wearing is not feminine in any way,” Edofine said.

Mister Yale looked him up and down. “Looks pretty fruity to me.”

“My cousin Edward does Live Action Role Play,” Kryvek lied.

“Uh huh. Why are you standing in front of the oven?”

Edofine tightened his grip on the bar behind him. “For the warmth.”

“Instead of boiling oil during the medieval battles, they use water. He was soaked, and his backside still is.” Kryvek hated lying. He couldn’t think of any other way. Edofine disapproved every word, he knew.

Mister Yale walked up to Kryvek, cornering him. “You may not understand this, but there are other people in this building, and they matter a great deal more to me than you do. You’ve been playing music at midnight, making all sorts of commotion at all hours, and must we revisit that time you knocked holes in the wall? If I see in any way that this Edward is anything other than a relative, or if I hear any more objections from the other residents, you are out of here.” He jabbed a fungus-covered fingertip into Kryvek’s chest.

“Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

“Good. I am glad we had this little talk.” Mister Yale slammed the door behind him as he left.

Kryvek slumped to the floor, his face in his hands. “Someday I’m going to fill that man’s body with arrows.”

“I will assist. Why did he call me a fruit?” Edofine looked at his cloak and leggings. “Perhaps I should borrow some of your clothing. When did you make those nighttime noises?”

“I was only trying to follow the rituals of the summer and winter solstice,” Kyrvek complained. “The holes in the wall were from me rehearsing opera solos for my voice training. I tutor teens, you see. I didn’t know opera was such potent magic. It took me days to get all the trees out. Now I have to exorcise all the spirits and create an anti-spell field before I can sing something from Aida! Christine wanted to know about basic sword fighting, so I showed her. It was for her job, for goodness’ sake. That man is the most culturally insensitive boor that I ever had to be subordinate to.”

“Can you let me have my ear back?” Krith asked.

“Oh. Forgive me,” Edofine replied, opening the oven so the eartip was no longer trapped.

“How do we feed an Archaedemon?” Kryvek asked.

“Burn something badly,” Krith said. “Char it to cinders.”

“Let’s see what Lira did to her dinner; she always does that even without trying.” Kryvek stood up and patted Edofine on the back. “Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your fault.”

Edofine smiled slightly, though his eyes seemed permanently on the brink of tears. “Tell me, does Lira have a male in her life?”

“If you could convince her to incinerate some chocolate-chip cookies, that’d be sweet,” Krith called after them.

Chapter Six

Dreamers and Schemers and Helpers

“This is indeed rather awkward,” Lira observed, standing in Kryvek’s kitchen and looking at Krith.

Krith, currently three feet tall, woke from his nap and opened the oven, leaning out to look at her. He whistled and said, “You know, hybrids are underrated these days.”

Lira pursed her lips, pulled an unidentifiable mass of carbon out of the brown paper bag she was holding, and then dangled the burnt offering in front of his face. “So is food. Make any sort of catcall again, and I throw your dinner out the window.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am,” mumbled the Archaedemon.

Christine was sitting next to Kryvek on the couch, cozily nestled among the cushions. Kryvek felt exceedingly comfortable, since she was practically a cushion herself, though he wouldn’t tell Christine so because she was so high-strung about her weight.

Ever the anthropologist, she said, “I think he’s fascinating, and we could learn a lot from him at the OMHI.”

“Huh? What? Is someone going to dissect me? Ed, help!” Krith hyperventilated smoke, which made the sensitive Elf cough.

Edofine hovered around the stove and countertops, periodically inching near Lira, and then gasping and backing away whenever she looked at him. “You have been foolish enough in times past. Do not add to it.”

“Somebody’s high-and-mighty,” sneered Krith. “Where do you keep your plates, Kryvek?” Lira asked.

Edofine could barely breathe as he watched her dark, slim form unconsciously dance as she searched for the dishes.

Kryvek pointed. “On the cupboard to your right. I only have five, so please don’t break one.”

“They’re cheap plastic.” Lira poured her attempt at dinner for herself and Christine onto one plate, arranging it as tastefully as she could. She was mollified that at least someone could benefit from her cooking. Usually she had to throw it out and order pizza.

“Oh, make fun of my poverty as a musician and teacher, will you?” Hearing Lira’s confidence fall, Kryvek quickly added, “I jest, I jest.”

“I wish I could sense emotions,” Lira said, cool and composed, handing the plate to Krith, who had set his hand on fire.

“Don’t melt my plate,” Kryvek said.

Krith extinguished his hand. “Sorry. Could you turn the thermostat up or something?”

Christine turned the knob on the wall, as she was sitting near it. “At least you can tell when people are lying, Lira. I wish I had that.”

All were silent except for the sound of Krith chewing on ashes. Lira sat down on a folding chair, and Edofine sat next to her, making silly, uncertain smiles. He found it strange to interact with people who didn’t immediately know how he was feeling. No wonder humans were so messed up—everything they did was based on confusion and emotional deafness.

Christine’s stomach hurt with hunger, and she wondered if she’d survive this low-fat low-sodium low-sugar wholegrain, vegetarian diet. Surely a cookie would do no harm. Kryvek made wonderful leaf-shaped energy biscuits from acorn flour. Why were Elves all toothpicks, anyway, even the ones with sedentary jobs? It wasn’t fair.

There was a knock at the door, and Sara called out, “Edofine? Can I come in?”

“The door isn’t locked,” Kryvek said.

“How’s John?” Christine asked, as Sara sidled in and walked over to take a look at Krith.

“My goodness, he grew fast. Hi, Krith. My name’s Sara Tuft and I only found out that people like you existed this morning.”

“My pleasure, ma’am. I’m not allowed to whistle at her, right?” Krith poked his flaming head out of the oven and turned to Lira.

Lira said, “Well, if she explicitly tells you she enjoys being whistled at, you may. But tread very carefully.”

“Edofine, your girlfriend is scary,” hissed Krith.

“Eeep!” Edofine bolted straight up, speaking very fast. “Forgive me; matters in another room require my immediate attention.” He almost teleported away, so hurried was his exit.

Kryvek, using his Elf senses, knew what was going on and smiled. Christine and Sara, using their good-female-friend senses, knew what was going on and smiled. Lira, to the best of her senses, completely failed to notice the exchange and grabbed a pocket calculator from the counter to work out how much money she could send to her mother this month without jeopardizing her own ability to pay the rent.

“How is John?” Christine asked.

Sara squished in next to Christine and seemed to deflate slightly, rubbing her pregnant bulge for comfort. “Being a pigheaded drone. He wouldn’t even come take a look at Krith, who obviously can’t be faked, or at least not at the size I first saw him.”

“Have you started with morning sickness yet?” Lira asked.

“Lira!” shouted Kryvek and Krith.

“What, can’t handle the other end of pregnancy?” Lira retorted.

“Lira, honey,” Christine said, “you don’t have to be ultra-feminist one hundred percent of the time.” Oh my goodness, Christine thought, honey. She wanted some honey on thick, melt-in-your mouth waffles, golden brown and crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside. She clutched at Kryvek’s arm. “Keep me here. Don’t let me eat!”

Kryvek began massaging her shoulders. “It’s all right, sis. Keep calm. How about you have a bubble bath tonight, rather than a shower? There are lots of nice, soothing things that don’t involve food.”

“Not in my life there aren’t,” Krith said. “Do you have anything more I can eat?”

“You’re starting to get annoying,” Kryvek called back.

“What, am I supposed to be completely silent the whole asbestos-mining time?”

“That would be ideal,” Lira said.

Christine tried breathing deeply, despite the empty ache inside. “I got a call. There’s going to be another important meeting on Monday, which they say is even more vital than the one about the annihilation of the Dance Clan.”

“Nerve-wracking?” Sara asked.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes.”

“No, you can’t have a pint of ice cream from my fridge, Christine, especially since I ate it all last week,” Kryvek said.

“How did you know?” Christine felt a twinge for being so predictable.

Lira added, “I have a vital, secret meeting too. I wonder what’s going on.”

“I hope the FBI hasn’t figured out what OMHI really stands for,” Christine said.

“What does it stand for?” Krith asked.

All others in the room chorused, “Official Magics-Human Institute.”

Christine added, “Magics being the name for non-human peoples.”

“I need to get dinner started, but I have no oven,” Kryvek said. “There’s going to be a real drain on my electricity bill if Krith is here long.”

“Crisis meeting over?” Christine asked.

“Over,” Lira said.

“Over, I guess,” Sara said.

Edofine sang a goodbye for them, off in the distance, and sparks appeared and danced around the females leaving Kryvek’s place. Lira smiled for the first time that evening.

“Incidentally,” Lira said, just before her exit, “since you, Kryvek, and Christine are going to church tomorrow and we don’t want Sara to be watching and teaching Edofine all the time, would Edofine be willing to come to my studio tomorrow? I could use him for some heavy lifting.”

Edofine appeared by Kryvek’s side, eyes the size of billiard balls and the luster of polished silver. “Certainly, fine lady,” he replied, his voice betraying him and croaking. He thought his voice had finished changing, but apparently it had not.

As Lira walked across the hallway, she wondered why Sara was giggling.

Kryvek and Edofine ended up eating Caesar salad and peanut butter sandwiches, which Edofine found tasty but strange. “Is it meant to make the mouth stick in such a way?” Edofine asked.

“Yes. Sorry I don’t have any meat for you—since moving from the Dance Clan I became vegetarian.”

Edofine nodded. He knew most animals in human consumption were raised in horrible conditions. It wasn’t killing animals for food that bothered Elves, for they did that often, but it was making them live in torment that they couldn’t stand. They pledged to only eat full-grown animals that lived a free, full life, followed by quick and relatively painless death. Christine once pointed out the impracticality of this on a global scale to Kryvek, but he ignored her.

Krith extracted a pack of asbestos cards out of his pants pocket—which had special incantations that made them shrink and grow with his body—and played solitaire all evening. The Elves turned down the heat to keep him three feet tall, unsure how they could deal with a six-foot, one-hundred-sixty-pound Archaedemon. Later that night they heard odd steaming and hissing noises, which Edofine said was Krith crying. He also said Krith should be left alone, for he was bound to incinerate anyone who commented upon it.

Usually Edofine slept in his long, loose green shirt and leggings, taking off the velvety cloak. Before he came to Laconia he possessed three shirts, two pairs of black leggings, and four cloaks—two light cloaks of brown and green, one plain and one with delicate embroidery for special occasions, and two winter cloaks of black for dry weather and white for snow. Now he had only his light-weather clothing.

“I conjecture I should increase my wardrobe,” he said, standing in the doorway of Kryvek’s bedroom. The room was full of ferns, bonsai, shrubbery, and deeply red roses. Kryvek’s bed and lamp, the only furniture there, looked moss-covered.

“They’re moss-covered,” Kryvek, sitting on the bed, said when he saw Edofine staring at it. “I was always good at the plant-related Song.” Kryvek knew that wearing short-sleeved and cropped-leg pajamas with teddy bears on them was not the most masculine way to go, but it was comfortable and he couldn’t stand sleeping in his underwear. “You’re right. Someone should take you to the mall.”

“What is the mall?”

“A place to buy ready-made clothing and other goods,” Kryvek explained, adopting a tone of resigned patience. “But you have to go to the OMHI first. Do you know yet whether you want them to help you?”

Edofine shook his head, hugged himself, and sat down next to his cousin. “Events have occurred at a pace beyond my reckoning. I have been here only one day, yet a thousand things I never dreamt have been thrust upon me. Lady Sara has been very kind.”

“What about the other females, hmm?” Kryvek found himself grinning like a teenager teasing a friend, which was odd because he’d never really felt any affection beyond casual goodwill for Edofine. Edofine awoke in him an even stronger desire for trees, dance, song, magic, and family than he had felt for a long time. The Fletchers were family enough, right? Weren’t they? Were they really?

“I often think humans are fortunate that their emotions are private,” Edofine replied, blushing. “She is a paragon of regality. I dare not touch her. I hardly dare breathe in her presence, afraid to...to...in fact, I know not why I am afraid.”

“Some say she’s frightening.”

“I will smite anyone who besmirches her name in my presence.”

Kryvek looked at the young, downcast, frail form of Edofine and had to smile. He knew Edofine was a skilled fighter, but he wasn’t a very intimidating one.

Edofine scanned his arms and legs, which were definitely more sinew and bone than muscle. “I am tired of a life of killing those who are not of my kind, but I know of no other way.”

“What about Krith?”

“Krith is my beginning. I enjoy his company but I trust him little. However, I feel that trust is a positive attribute and I seek to cultivate it. Humans, though, they are tricky. I have not come to any conclusions.”

“That’s fine. Take your time.” Kryvek yawned and kneeled by his bedside, clasping his hands in front of them. “Care to pray with me?”

“How do humans pray?” Edofine asked.

“There are many different ways. I use one. Do you want to learn?”

“Will it help?”

“I think so.”

As the two kinsmen knelt by the side of the bed, the Archaedemon in the oven chanted a mantra, his shoulders shaking with regret and loneliness. “May the fire burn forever, may it burn clean and bright, may it hold me together, and keep my eyes alight. May the fire burn forever...”

Chapter Seven

Artists and Critics and Couples

“So this is a car,” Edofine said, observing the green metal body and smooth wheels. He ran his hand along the seat.

“No, this is a bicycle,” Lira replied. “I have no need to travel out of this town except on foot, to see my mother, or on public transportation, and within this town I choose to not pollute.” She also used up most of her salary supporting her mother and buying up as many chunks of wilderness as she could, so Elves could live there without fear of discovery. She owned forty acres so far. This, however, was not something she thought Edofine needed to know. Her current attire was sweatpants and a baggy old World Wildlife Fund t-shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, revealing her Elf-shaped ears.

Edofine knew she was concealing something harmless, so he didn’t push it. “I did not know Kryvek worshipped new spirits. How do I ride on this?”

“I will be in front, like so.” Lira strapped on her helmet and sat on the bike, “You sit on this cushion behind me and hold onto my waist so you don’t fall.”

“Your waist?”

Lira handed him her spare helmet; cheap foam. “Does this present a problem to you?”

Edofine quickly donned the helmet, shook his head and climbed aboard, smiling broadly.

“About the new spirits, it’s not altogether surprising,” Lira explained as they rode past Wal-Mart, Trader Joe’s, McDonald’s, and other chain stores. There were also a fortuneteller, two fitness centers, an antiques shop, a few clinics, and eventually a school. All were nondescript dull brick buildings with flat roofs; simple squares. As she pedaled, Lira gave a quick summary of the origins of Judeo-Christianity, the Reformation, and all the splinter churches that developed from it, constantly arguing with one another.

“Why? They believe the same man was the son of a supreme being, do they not?” Edofine asked.

“Humans can be very petty,” Lira said. “There are other faiths that follow other spirits, all around the world. Some are similar to the faith we were raised in.”

“Kryvek is of the Baptist leaning,” Edofine concluded.

“Yes. Both him and Christine.”

“I believe those two share a bond beyond one shared by siblings.”

“You noticed too. It’s best not to bother them about it.”

After about twenty minutes they reached the outskirts of town, where trees grew thicker and the grass was knee-high. There was a barn two stories high, large enough for a dozen cows, crumbled brown and decrepit, everything metal rusting and everything wooden creaking. Lira stopped the bike and the two dismounted, and then Lira chained the bicycle to a white oak tree.

“Many humans worship on this day; this is my house of worship. You can let go of me now.”

“Oh! Forgive me. Ah, could we speak in Elvish? I grow weary of English.”

Edofine clasped his hands behind his back and breathed in deeply, inhaling the clarifying scents of clover underfoot, thistles, wildflowers, milkweed, half-Eudemon female, himself in clothes that needed to be washed, and—acorns. Edofine automatically bent and pulled out his shirt to serve as a basket, and gathered up all the acorns on the ground. Usually in August there weren’t many, but this had been an unusually cool summer. He blushed when he sensed that Lira found this charming.

“I have not eaten acorn flour for many a month,” Lira said, in Elvish.

“It pays to not be wasteful. I hope Kryvek has a grinder. Do you have any sort of container where I could store these? Or any way we could roast them?”

“I have a kiln for pottery.”

“We could make an attempt.”

When he stepped into the building, Edofine cast his eyes about the expanse and those eyes grew deep with excitement. The rafters, high above them, were covered in barn owls’ nests; white owls blinking and turning away from the light. The upper loft held all manner of supplies, rows of paintbrushes, stacks of paint, heaps of clay, reams of old clothes, and glitter, feathers, dried leaves, and things Edofine did not recognize.

Down where they stood the walls were lined with completed paintings, which were realistic in style but not in subject matter. One depicted a wolf with a girl’s head, another a black-and-white crowd with a single man in vibrant purples and reds, and there were scenes of families flying up to the stars. Two paintings showed an Elf and Eudemon battle—in the first the Elves were winning, in the second the Eudemons were triumphant. The second was bloody enough to make Edofine breathe in sharply.

In the middle of the first floor were sculptures of wire, clay, plaster, and junk: an old bicycle bent around a tree stump, a wobbly mass of water balloons in the shape of a giant teddy bear. One peculiar piece was a being with one pair of legs, but three torsos leaning out, bending over backwards at right angles.

Lira saw Edofine’s stare, and explained, “That one’s not finished yet. It is meant to be the three divisions in genus Homo: Elves, humans, and demons.”

“Are the Archaedemons and Eudemons the same species?”

“No one has been able to classify Archaedemons yet, for humans meet so few. Krith will be a great boon to the researchers. I promise you they will not harm him.”

“Where should I place these acorns?”

“I have a jar over there, and the kiln’s in the corner.”

Lira told Edofine she was preparing the barn for some visitors to the town in two weeks, hoping they might be interested in buying something. Her main pieces were ready, but she wanted to clean the studio up and decorate it. She had Edofine help her carry several buckets of paint down to the right-side wall, where she wanted to paint a mural. First, though, they had to cover much of the walls with white paint for a base.

Edofine appreciated art but never created it, except for short spells, and he accidentally got much paint in his hair and clothes. After a while Lira took pity on him and sent him to mop and wax the hardwood floor. As she painted, shadows of Elves, all green and violet and blue, took shape, dancing around a campfire, flickering like the flames themselves.

“How did you adjust to human society?” Edofine asked.

“It was difficult, and I missed my mother, but I still believe it was the best thing I could have done.” She swept her brush in a smooth curve to convey long, flowing hair.

“Why did you leave her?”

“You would not understand.”

“Yes, I would. You have sorrow, and regret, but also a sense of beauty and wholeness.”

Lira looked at him and sighed, shaking her head. “One of my reasons was everyone knowing instantly how I felt, with no privacy at all, while I could not do the same. A woman blind from birth would rather live among the blind, rather than know everyone was staring at her.”

“I could tell you what everyone felt, so you would not feel cut off.”

“Thank you, but you see, no one offered me such a thing then.”

“So you had no friends at all?” A little owlet, still fuzzy with childhood, twittered as it fell out of the nest. Edofine caught it with one hand and held it there, watching the bird as it stared and shivered. “Owlet here, here where I hold you, be not afraid someone has sold you; gain the gift of flight early, till you are safe, till you are free. Spirits guide you to your home, as I sing, let it be so.”

The confused owlet fluttered up to her siblings and fell asleep. Lira smiled slightly, but was still serious. “No, I would not say I did have friends. In the houses of learning I had to work with all my might at all times, for though I won a scholarship to...” here she switched to English, “...Harvard I knew little about the other aspects of life. I read a great deal, children’s books, classic literature, and I studied slang dictionaries so I could communicate naturally. I had enough money for school, but not enough to live on, which required me to find jobs. First I was a waitress, then a cashier, and then I was fortunate enough to work as security in an art museum.” She used a few broad strokes to denote a tree, a tree that Edofine found gnarly and forbidding, out of place in the idyllic scene.

Edofine walked the length of the barn, pulling the mop behind him, and soon turned around and made his way past Lira again. “What was the other reason?” he asked, still speaking Elvish.

Lira went back to Elvish as well. “I was afraid I would hurt everyone.” Her pain trickled across the floor and crept over the walls, infiltrating Edofine’s ears. It was a slow but strong current of sorrow.

Every word Lira uttered made Edofine love her more, want to help, and comfort her. He said, after much thought, “If they drove you to such straits, they deserved it.”

English was the language now. “Do not say that. I understood why, every moment I knew why. I am my mother’s shame, I am a symbol of all that the Elves suffer, and my blood is poison. Sometimes I desire gore and violence, I wish to snap necks in two, watching how they isolated my mother, and now seeing what the humans do to each other every day. I considered a career in police work, but I knew I would fail because I would slaughter the criminals. I hate the Eudemons for what they have done, but I fear the Elves because I see the Eudemon inside myself. The Eudemons are too dark for me, and the Elves are too bright. At least humans have more shades of gray.” She did not turn her head, and she spoke in a low monotone, with a calm even voice. Her shoulders clenched rigid even though she was painting a gorgeous picture.

“I will not tell a single soul,” Edofine promised. He carefully tiptoed over to Lira and rubbed her shoulders. “May I?”

“You may. Thank you. I don’t know why I feel inclined to tell you these things after such a brief acquaintance. You seem so pure and trustworthy. You would make an excellent therapist. Mmm, that’s nice, thank you.”

Edofine felt this was an experience new to Lira, and he felt honored and pressed points on the back of her neck with his thumb. He didn’t even consider going below her shirt’s neckline. “What is a therapist?”

“Someone who gives counsel to those who are mentally or emotionally ill. If they go to medical school they become psychiatrists, who can not only talk and listen, but can prescribe medication.”

“Do their efforts bear fruit?”

“They do. Not always, but much of the time they do. It pays well, too.”

“I would not mind listening to others’ troubles. I know what they feel already, so I might as well know why.”

“Exactly.” A thought struck Lira, and she took Edofine’s hands off her shoulders and leaned back to look at him upside down. “How old are you in years?”

“Thirty-six.”

“You look human eighteen. Little is known of Eudemon aging, but I am thirty-two in years and appear to be in human twenties. Strange.”

“Age differences make no difference to me.”

Lira raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Edofine blushed again and cleared his throat several times. “I was wondering, ah, see, I thought maybe, um, if you want, and I would not mind waiting and we could follow the procedure of any culture you wish, maybewecouldgetmarried.”

Still upside down, those silver eyes moved back and forth as if looking for something. “Say that again. I couldn’t hear the last five words, for you ran them all together.”

“Will you marry me?”

“What?” Lira jerked up. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” Edofine whispered, hands behind his back and knees slightly bent, ready to flee at any moment.

“We’ve known each other for one day. One day only!”

“I can see into your heart, though. I hear everything. I know who you are. You need someone to yourself in your life, someone who understands you rather than fearing or regretting. Christine helps, but she has a bond with Kryvek that puts you in second rank. I rank you first.”

To his surprise, Lira burst out laughing and squeezed one of his hands in both of hers. “You need to understand, Edofine, that while you may know what I’m like, I do not know your nature. You need to give me time. I know the Elves don’t spend much time in courtship since everyone knows everyone else so well, but be sensitive to my position. I have never had any relationship with a male, besides casual friendship with Kryvek, and I need to learn how to love. Understand?”

“Yes, fine lady. I consulted with my cousin, and he said if you wanted to follow the human route, I should ask you to watch moving pictures with me. But I do not like those moving pictures, so would you like to see a play?” Spirits, he exulted, he had found the treasure. He had made her laugh.

“Do you know of any human plays?”

“No.”

“How about a picnic?” she suggested.

“What is a picnic?”

“Eating Elf-style, outdoors, on a cloth spread on the ground.”

“So do you love me?”

Lira shook her head. “I find you agreeable, but that’s all.”

“Pink rose rather than red?”

“How about a yellow friendship rose with a tiny amount of pink at the very tips of the petals?”

Edofine bowed deeply. “Forgive me for troubling you with childish fancies. I shall continue to mop now.”

Lira felt slightly intoxicated for the rest of the day, full to brim with pride for being proposed to, even though the kid was probably still rebounding from losing most of his loved ones. How sadly sweet and clumsy of him. It would never work, for once he met the other Lira, the bleeding white-skinned purple-eyed killing machine, he would run away. For now, though, it would make her life a little better. She hoped he wouldn’t end up too unhappy once he spent more time with her and realized what the other attempting suitors had realized. She was destined to be alone, and no Elf, however adorable, could change that.

Edofine saw it differently. He was sincere in his desire to marry her, but would wait as long as it took. He was even willing to stay in the human town for her sake. Just because love comes early doesn’t mean it’s weak.

Chapter Eight

Employees and Litigators and Officials

Had Edofine been more familiar with human popular culture, he might have had expectations for the OMHI based on the secret headquarters of the Men in Black, the X-Men mansion, The Initiative from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or perhaps the isolated, hidden research center from Michael Crichton’s The Andromeda Strain. He probably would have imagined an underground complex featuring the most up-to-date technology, confidential passwords, gigantic television screens, and sleek, futuristic decoration.

It was fortunate he wasn’t at all familiar with such concepts, for if he had been, he would have become greatly disappointed. He, Lira, and Christine stood in front of a three-story brick building, as crumbling as a granola bar, with very small windows and a weather-beaten gray sign featuring the words “Official Mental Health Institute”. There wasn’t even an “FBI” at the end.

“Is the door locked?” Edofine asked, squirming in his Elven clothing that now smelled funny and itched like chiggers. He shifted the weight of the large insulated cooler he carried from one shoulder to another. Despite this, long, impassioned debates on everyone else’s part could not convince him to wear something that belonged to Kryvek. It was partially a cultural thing, partially a masculine thing.

“No. We do have one security guard inside, who has you either show your ears or your ID cards.” Christine took her card out of her purse and strung it around her double chin.

Lira did the same. She patted Edofine on the back, causing him to sink his neck towards his collarbone like a pleased turtle with a sappy grin. She had promised not to tell anyone about his proposal from the previous day, but now that she knew he was interested, she was as friendly as the antisocial half-Eudemon could manage. “Are you nervous?”

“I need not fear when you are here,” Edofine mumbled.

They opened the glass door and walked in; Lira in front, then Christine, and finally Edofine. An African-American woman with short, clipped hair and a walkie-talkie examined the women’s IDs, and then stood from her chair to look at Edofine. “Eyes, check, hair, clothes; could you bend over a little please?”

Edofine did so, and then squeaked when she nail-pinched the tip of his left ear. “Why must you do such things?”

“Sorry. I just needed to know those points were real. Go on in.”

They passed another set of doors and then they were completely surrounded by gray cubicles. It was a typical office setting, with Employee of the Month plaques along the walls, computer screens covered in post-it notes, family photos on desks, and a general air of quiet bustle. A few people in suits looked up to say, “Hi, Christine,” or “Hi, Lira.”

“Who’s he?” a middle-aged man in a yellow shirt asked.

“This is Edofine,” Christine replied, offering no explanation.

“Ah, another immigrant. Don’t be nervous, young fellow. We’re here to help.”

“Thank you kindly,” Edofine said, twitching a little and looking from side to side. He found it unsettling to be indoors with so many people.

Entering a hallway, they passed wooden doors with signs like, “ADMIN Mister Stanford” or “DRF Department of Real Fantasy”. An open door revealed a young-looking she-Elf in a short black skirt and blue blouse banging on a photocopier. “Spirits! The dead metal is broken,” she muttered.

Christine entered the room and pressed three buttons, and the Xerox machine lit up and hummed, producing three contracts. “I think that will do it,” she chirped.

The Elf projected embarrassment but appreciation, chuckling at her mistake with bright teeth, and then winked at Edofine. “I am sure you are having similar difficulties.”

“Was something wrong with her eye?” Edofine asked Lira.

Soon they came upon a stairwell—the OMHI couldn’t afford an elevator, being perpetually strapped for cash. Christine wobbled on the way down because of her two-inch heels, but Lira walked with ease as if she was barefoot. On the walls were bulletin boards with notices of Elf Fridays: “Bring your cloaks, gowns, jewelry, and sandals! If you are human or can no longer wear your ethnic dress, costumes are available at discount in Lira Steele’s office.” Lira sometimes sold her mother’s work to other OMHI employees.

The ground floor of the OMHI was devoted to administration, post office, and media relations, the second floor the law department, and the third floor the anthropology bureau. The two basements were for the benefit of the non-human population, the first a combination medical clinic and acclimation center where they provided birth certificates and other documents, and the second a usually empty courtroom and large utility closet holding the furnace and air conditioning.

Edofine had trouble standing the constant whine of cheap fluorescent lighting and the dull, endlessly beige carpet and gray walls. The cooler was bulky and he was getting tired. Did such settings not drive humans mad? They passed odd containers of water atop boxes with little knobs and paper cones. The paper was also gray, being one hundred percent recycled. Any waste of paper or other resources and the Elf employees flipped. Lira finally stopped at one room, Mrs. Oova’s, and knocked.

“Who is it?” a grandmotherly voice called out.

“Lira.”

“Christine.”

“Edofine.”

“Edofine?”

“Well, I thought not that you would know my name, however the others called out theirs and I panicked.”

Mrs. Oova hooted with laughter and opened the door. She looked pleasant and wise, getting old but aging gracefully, with long, silver hair tucked back in a ponytail. She was still slim and tastefully dressed in black, with heavy, long chains of colorful beads all around her neck. Her eyes were also black, framed with thick, angular glasses, and her ears pointed. She swept them all in and seated them in three wooden chairs, lightly dropping down into her own. The walls were lined with awards, degrees, and testimonials. Her thought-music was full of enthusiastic honesty.

“We don’t see tons of full-blooded Elves in here, Edofine the Courageous darling, but you’ll fit right in.”

“You are not all Elf,” Edofine murmured.

“Half. Also a quarter Thai human and a quarter Chinese human. It’s a slightly bizarre combination, but it makes life more interesting. The smidgen of Elf only shows in the ears and the lie detector. And the dazzling beauty, of course. Hah! I assume you’re here for papers?”

“He’s the one who brought the news of the Dance Clan’s destruction,” Christine said, firmly, with eye contact. Edofine noticed she seemed a great deal more confident now than she was at home.

Mrs. Oova reached over and rubbed one of Edofine’s hands. “Poor child. We’ll do our best for you.” The phone at her desk rang, and she picked it up. “Hello? Actually, she’s right here. I’ll send her up. Lira, you’re wanted for the meeting in room 459.”

Lira looked at her watch. “I see that I am. Will you be all right?”

Edofine nodded, and she left.

Then followed a series of questions, the answers to which Mrs. Oova jotted down on the Standard Naturalization Form, or SNF, as she called it, or pronouncing it ‘sniff.’ “When were you born?”

“The year of the great drought.”

“How old are you in human years?”

“Eighteen.”

“Have you suffered any injuries?”

“A few arrow-wounds, one spear wound, and one bear bite, all healed.”

“Do you have a source of income?”

“No.”

“Do you have any special skills?”

“Elementary Song-Magic abilities, excellent markselfship, and experienced fighting.”

“What was your role in your village?”

“Hunter and need-based warrior.”

“Do you have any living family?”

“Kryvek, now called Kevin Fletcher.”

“What is Kryvek’s species, age in human years, and occupation?”

“I know not. Perhaps twenty-five? He plays instruments and teaches others how to sing and play instruments.

“How much technology are you familiar with?”

“Lady Sara gave me a book called ‘The New Way Things Work’, and I have read all the way up to the eternal combustion engine. I have used the vacuum tube, oven, and shower.”

Christine nudged him. “It’s ‘internal’, not eternal. We haven’t invented an eternal one yet.”

Edofine answered a few more questions with some assistance from Christine, and then placed the cooler on Mrs. Oova’s desk. “My friend here needs the same process, and some answers—we know not what to do with him.”

“Your friend?”

Christine unzipped the insulated bag and pulled back the cover, revealing a one-foot-tall Krith, a paler pink hue than healthy, orange eyes glowing, sitting up to the waist in boiling water. “I was wondering when ya’lled let me out,” he grumbled.

“The water’s getting cold.”

“It still steams,” Edofine pointed out. “Also, you should show courtesy to this lady before us.”

“My goodness, it’s an Archaedemon. I’ve never actually seen one. I didn’t know they were this small.” Mrs. Oova adjusted her glasses and peered at Krith.

“We shrink and grow depending how hot we are, lady. Does anyone at all have a cigarette?” Krith shivered, sighed, and burst into flame. “Now I’m gonna shrink even more,” he whined.

“Be polite, Krith,” Christine admonished.

“There’s boiling water in the kitchenette,” Mrs. Oova suggested. “Let me ask you registration questions as well.”

Meanwhile, Lira knocked on the door labeled ‘Law Conference Room’ and silently slid over to her seat. The assembled men, women, and Elf mixes mentally registered her arrival but said nothing. Nobody ever doubted or criticized Lira after knowing her for a week. Some found her honorable, others found her terrifying.

“Let us get right to the point,” said Mister Hvard. Everyone restrained a gasp, for George Hvard hardly every went right to the point. “Yes, yes, I know this may shock you. But we face a great threat. To pay for the anti-terrorism national defense measures the President has ordered, government healthcare programs are suffering budget cuts. Since the FBI believes we are working with the criminally or otherwise insane, with falls under healthcare, our funding has been slashed by twenty-five percent.”

Several exclamations followed. Some of them were:

What?”

“Huh?”

“What?”

“Son of an unmarried porcupine!”

“Great forests!”

“The hell?”

And, perhaps most memorably, “Archrcggzrrarr!”

Amidst all this, Lira said, “Hmm.”

“But we are national defense,” someone pointed out. “Do you know what will happen if negotiations with the demon fall through and the Eudemons decide they’ve had enough of being pushed around?”

Mister Hvard nodded. “It distresses me too. A representative from the government will be here next week to determine what is non-essential in our program. We have the choice of massive cover-ups to make him or her believe we are indeed the Official Mental Health Institute and that our work is vital, actually telling them we are the Official Magics-Human Institute and begging for money, or refusing to let them visit and thus having our funding cut even further to the extent that would require employee downsizing and possibly no longer have money even for heating the building. If that should happen, we will continue to employ all Elf or part-Elf workers, because they will have more trouble finding work elsewhere than the humans will. Also, the only reason the Elves are willing to cooperate with us at all is our employment of some of their people.”

“That’s discrimination, though,” a woman said.

“The law says we cannot discriminate based on race, color, sex, orientation, or disability. It says nothing about species,” Lira replied.

“You’re just saying that because you’re half-Elf.”

Lira stared at the woman with her eyes of melted silver, conveying superiority, regality, and a certain amount of contempt. The woman eventually turned pink and looked away, shuddering slightly. Lira’s wrath affected people that way.

The meeting dragged on with all the lawyers and judges in a state of severe distress. Underground, Edofine went through similar distress in the clinic, where he was undergoing a thorough physical. He was familiar with sharp metal objects—they went in food or in the enemy. They were not meant to go through patients.

“It’s just a blood test, Edofine,” Doctor Fordham assured him.