THE NINTH INTERRUPTION

 

Kaley Bell’s thumbs danced in a twiddly circle, around and around and around and around and around and ar—

Lucas’s hand flashed out and smacked her thumbs with a look that indicated he was a mere pinch from turning madder than a calling wicket.

“Sorry,” Kaley mumbled, pulling her hands away from his and stuffing them into her pockets.

A fork hit a slat above their room and spiralled down, its prongs stabbing the snow. The spoon followed a moment later, and Lucas caught it before it would have pelted Kaley in her fair, pink mouth.

“Cohen’s aim is getting scotchy,” he said.

“Maybe he’s getting tired,” Kaley offered.

But Lucas’s smile appeared. “Cohen doesn’t get tired.” Though, the Patrolman’s topaz eyes lifted to the wall’s heights where the spoon had come from.

Before them, depictions of maps and clues were drawn into the bed of crunchy snow, the butterknives still wet from being used. Kaley nudged the edge of her most recent map drawing, filling in the border with a dollop of flakes to make it disappear. They would be forced to ruin their artwork soon, lest the Evergreen Host discover it and read its wisdom.

Lucas watched the toes of her boots drag.

“I’m ready for a nap, Trite. All this studying isn’t my cup of cocoa,” he said.

“I know.” Kaley’s eyes fell to the sketches. “But it’s important for you to memorize these maps.”

“Why is that? I haven’t the mind to replace you as the library-being if something happens to you.” He paused. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“If we escape this mess, I need you to find something for me.”

The Patrolman raised a brow. “I knew you were hiding some big plans in that pretty head.”

“You can’t tell Helen,” Kaley said, forehead creasing. “She’s not herself.”

Lucas’s face twisted. “Gah!” He threw up his hands. “I hate keeping secrets.”

“I need you to find an island guarded by fairies. It’s called Orphan Island.”

Lucas sighed and snuggled in deeper against his seat. “Orphan Island, Trite? I hate to shush your pebble talk, but that island isn’t real. Even the pirates mapping the snowseas will tell you that.”

Kaley picked up a butterknife and began a new drawing. “It is real. I saw it on a few maps.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yes. But it was never in the same place, right, Trite? No one can find it because it doesn’t exist. It’s an old Winter story about a magic coast where lost, lonely children are carried to live merrily together.”

“It’s as real as any place in Winter. It’s in different places on those maps because it’s always moving. That’s why even those who claim to have seen it can never find it twice.”

Lucas craned his neck to study her. “Ragnashuck, you seem to care a good measure about what happens to us Rime Folk. Has it not crossed your pretty little Trite mind that you could leave us to our own demise?” Lucas did not give her time to reply. “And what makes you believe I’ll do a thing about any of this once you’re gone?”

She tilted her head. “I hope you’re joking.”

Lucas released a heavy, howly, huff sound. “Yes, fine, I joke. But I’d like a payment, nonetheless. Especially since you’re asking me to find a place that doesn’t exist.” Kaley did not hide the rolling of her green eyes. “I have a thing in mind,” he added.

“Great.”

The Patrolman’s dangerously wide grin caught her eye. “I think I’d like a kiss.”

Kaley backed away a pinch. “A what?”

“Oh, don’t muddle your mittens, darling. Not a big one, just one the size of a button would do.” He pulled something from his pocket, and Kaley blinked at Eliot Gray’s pearl button she had tossed into the snow a measure of days ago.

“How about a trade?” Lucas offered, holding the button out.

“I don’t want Eliot’s button.” Kaley tried to flick the pearly bead away, but Lucas drew his hand back.

“Fine, Trite. I forbid you from kissing me. And you get no button. I’m sure you’re secretly heartwrenched.”

“I’m positive it’s the other way around.” Kaley picked up the spoon and threw it over the wall. Lucas followed suit and hurled the fork, much higher than her throw. Not that it was a contest.

A moment or three passed before he spoke again. “Do you want to know why I’m certain that island doesn’t exist, Trite?” he asked.

When Kaley rolled her head against the log to look at him, she found Lucas chewing on his lip, smile gone. A starburst of rust-orange flooded his irises, and she lifted her head from the wall.

“Because I was a lost child, with nothing and no one. And no island fairy came to rescue me.”

Kaley’s lips parted, but no words came. Lucas’s gaze dropped to his butterknife. “So, you see, a place like that cannot exist.” He flung the butterknife into the air and caught it again by its dull blade.

Cool air slipped into the log cage, and Kaley hugged her legs to herself, tracing a missing island on her knee with a finger. Far in the distance, a creature howled at the moon. “Maybe you were never rescued by the fairies because you were always meant to be rescued by someone else,” she said, bringing Lucas’s attention back. Something strange crossed the Patrolman’s face. He stared off, a finger lifting to brush the scar on his face.

New snow puffed o’er the walls, sprinkling upon their canvas of drawings. The fork and spoon made their return, plummeting into the snow between their feet. A time again, the pair took the utensils and hurled them to carry on the game.

“Lucas,” Kaley said.

“Darling?” His voice was quiet, but he offered his lovely smile.

“I have to ask more of you than to just find the island,” she admitted.

“Is that so?” Lucas drew out the pearl button again, rolling it along his fingers to imply what it would cost her. Though Kaley would not kiss him for that preposterous button, the action threatened to make her laugh.

“If we get out of this disaster, I need to go to the White Kingdom border,” she said.

Lucas made a peculiar face. “A good measure of self-declared saints have made that walk, Trite, but they don’t always like what they find. What’s muddled your soul?”

Her gaze cast to where the fork and spoon had disappeared over the wall. “I need to fix something I broke.”

“Ragnashuck, Trite.” Lucas rubbed his eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of scheming?”

“Not when it comes to something like this. So, will you come with me?”

“Well. Frostbite, alright.” Lucas shoved the button into his pocket. “Why not?”

“And I need to see that note you stole from Eliot Gray,” she added. “You can’t hide it from me forever.”

Lucas shifted in his seat. “Ah. That scotchy, little thing.”

“Why haven’t you shown it to me?”

“Well, because at first I thought Eliot wrote it about you. But now I’m certain he wasn’t thinking of you at all.”

Kaley’s brows tugged in. “Lucas, if you don’t show me, I’m just going to wait until you’re sleeping and steal it from your pocket.”

But Lucas snorted a laugh. “Good luck finding it!”

“Lucas,” she pleaded.

“Yes, yes, darling.” He reached into a concealed pocket and drew out the folded slip of paper. Kaley had to admit, she never would have found it there had she gone snooping.

She took the note, but Lucas held onto it a pinch longer. When her gaze flickered up, the topaz of Lucas’s eyes dipped to rust-gold, but he released the paper, and Kaley unfolded it.

The note was not a sonnet or a letter, rather, it was a simple word:

 

 

Trite Trite Trite Trite

Trite Trite TRITE TRITE

TRITE TRITE TRITE

TRITE

 

It appeared twenty plus eight times more, scratched into the paper with black ink that splattered the page’s torn edges.

Kaley slammed the note shut, folding it and pushing it back against Lucas’s chest.

“Helen,” she whispered, the name raw on her tongue.

Slowly, Lucas returned the note to his pocket. “I would think as much.”

“What’s Eliot’s problem with her?” Kaley asked.

“I imagine he’s grown obsessed. I saw a Patrolman’s sense of duty twist a time or three in my early seasons. It’s what happens when someone turns away from the Truth and loses their purpose.” Lucas tied a ribbon to seal his pocket shut. “But I can’t decide if Gray has become obsessed with saving Helen or destroying her to end his misery. And the worrisome part, Trite,” Lucas turned on his knees to face Kaley, “I don’t think he’s decided which one he’s set on, either.”