Dreams and Shadows

chapter FORTY-SIX

WHERE WE ALL, AT LAST, BELONG

Yashar stood behind the ramshackle bar top, drying glasses with a fresh rag. The Cursed and the Damned was open, but empty, much of the city’s fairy population evacuating in the wake of Colby’s murderous rampage. The stories grew, as did the legend, and by the time Yashar had heard tell about what he’d seen with his own eyes, they hardly seemed to be about the same morning.

The door opened, Yashar holding his breath, half hoping it was Colby walking through—for better or worse. Instead it was worse. Much worse.

Coyote.

The old man grinned, poking his head in playfully. “Truce?”

Yashar sighed deeply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I heard this place was under new management and I wanted to check out the specials.”

“Someone had to keep the place going. For Scraps.”

“Probably,” said Coyote through a squint. “Though I can’t imagine the wine selection being as good.”

Yashar shook his head. “The man had a gift. What can I get you?”

Coyote walked in, closing the door behind him. “A few minutes of your time.”

“That, it would seem, we won’t run out of for a while.”

“And, uh”—Coyote looked both ways, whispering—“did Scraps leave around any of that really, really good bourbon?”

Yashar smiled broadly, pulling a weathered old bottle from under the bar. “That he did.”

“Line ’em up.”

Yashar set down two glasses and poured three fingers in each. “So why’d you do it? Really, I mean.”

“Do what?”

Yashar scowled.

“You want the truth?”

“Unvarnished,” said Yashar.

“Nobody likes the truth.”

“I want the truth.”

Coyote nodded soberly, sipping his whiskey. “Most people can’t read the writing on the wall even when it’s screamed at them. They hate the truth. The truth makes them angry. The truth is heartbreak and poverty and unhappy endings. They believe there is power in numbers, no matter how dumb the numbers. They believe in one true love. They believe that living well pays off in the end. They believe in the magic of childhood. The truth is, we’re all alone, even when surrounded. The truth is that someone’s one true love ended up a thirty-euro whore in an Amsterdam brothel. The truth is that people die old, unrewarded and unloved. The truth is, children get hit by cars and don’t come home. So you have to lie. They like lies. It helps them cope with the truth. And if you lie just right, you can get them to do what they have to do to find their truth.”

“So, you lie.”

“When it doesn’t pay to tell the truth. You told Colby the truth when he asked for his wish, but it took me to show it to him. You showed him the world, but I showed him how the world really worked.”

“And what did you get out of it?”

“Colby Stevens. It started out about ending the Tithe, but what I got was Colby Stevens. With the blood of a few I made him the man who would protect many. You’re too close to him. You can’t see his destiny, can you? What he could become, given the right poking and prodding? You helped make a great man. But he needed to do this first.”

Yashar slammed back the bourbon, pouring himself another three fingers of it. “To watch his friend die? To become a killer?”

“A killer, pfff.” He shook his head, sipping his drink. “I am life’s hard lesson, Yashar. The source of man’s humility. Colby needed to learn something, the fairies needed to learn something, those two kids needed to learn something. Everyone had a lesson waiting, and they learned it with blood. Sometimes that’s how it goes. People learn from failure and tragedy, not success.”

“Well, if you’re the source of man’s humility, what does that make me?”

Coyote winked from behind his glass. “His road to hell, paved with good intentions.”

Deflated, Yashar quickly finished his drink and immediately poured himself his third.

Coyote continued. “You know better than anyone that nothing lasts. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Everything lives. Everything dies. Sometimes cities just fall into the sea. It’s not a tragedy, that’s just the way it is. People look around them and see the world and say this is how the world is supposed to be. Then they fight to keep it that way. They believe that this is what was intended—whether by design or cosmic accident—and that everything exists in a tenuous balance that must be preserved. But the balance is bullshit. The only thing constant in this world is the speed at which things change. Rain falls, waters rise, shorelines erode. What is one day magnificent seaside property in ancient Greece is the next resting thirty feet below the surface. Islands rise from the sea and continents crack and part ways forever. What was once a verdant forest teeming with life is now resting one thousand feet beneath a sheet of ice in Antarctica; what was once a glorious church now rests at the bottom of a dammed-up lake in Kansas. The job of nature is to march on and keep things going; ours is to look around, appreciate it, and wonder what’s next?”

“Not everything dies,” said Yashar.

“Everything. One day even you.”

“And you?”

Coyote nodded, a wistful, sad look in his eye. “Even me. Coyotes are not long for this earth. Within a century man will have wiped out every beast that walks that poses any sort of threat to him. One day my people will be gone and there will be no more need for me. Then I’ll get to see if there is some great reward for the burden I’ve borne. Perhaps I will see my friends Mammoth, Dodo, and Saber Tooth again. I miss them.

“The mortals live lives so short that they hail us as timeless beings; after a while we begin to believe it. I look at you and see someone weighed down by the thought of living forever and think, Oh, he’s just a baby. He has no idea what eternity even is. I surely don’t. But I know how long fifteen hundred years can feel.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because your story isn’t over. You’ve much more yet to do and none of it involves being cooped up in a bar, serving drinks to shadows. Colby has a long road ahead and he needs a guide.”

“I thought you said I was the road to hell.”

Coyote nodded. “I didn’t say he’d like where he was going.” The two shared a moment of quiet understanding, each sipping his bourbon. “You know the kids’ funerals are tomorrow.”

Yashar nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“And you know Colby’s going to need you there.”

“He doesn’t want to see me right now.”

“No, he doesn’t. But he needs to.”