Now, Ash slid the socks into a ziplock bag and used a Sharpie to write FOR CLAY on the outside in bold letters. Then he put on his boots and coat and made a quick, squelchy dash across the backyard. He set the little package at the edge of the forest.

  “Hey,” he said into the fathomless woods, “if anyone can hear me, this is for Clay Tonia. Thanks.”

  Even though he couldn’t see anything, he had the definite impression that someone was listening.

  He was thoroughly soaked by the time he returned to his apartment, but he was also thoroughly pleased with himself.

  THERE WAS no direct contact from Clay on Thursday, but about three minutes after Ash got home from work, he heard a tapping on the living room window. He rushed to investigate—and almost squawked in surprise when he found an oversize squirrel perched on the other side of the glass. The squirrel rolled its eyes—which Ash wasn’t aware that squirrels could do—thumped once more, and disappeared.

  Ash slid open the pane and saw that a small fabric bag was pinned to the exterior window frame by the biggest thorn he’d ever seen. He had to remove the screen to get to it, but at least he managed not to drop anything or fall out in the process. He made himself reassemble the window before looking inside the bag.

  It contained a small round agate of the sort Ash used to collect on beaches when he was a kid, three assorted seashells, two pieces of blue beach glass… and a handful of tiny white flowers with pale pink stripes.

  Ash fetched a glass bowl he sometimes used for ice cream and poured a little water inside. He arranged his new treasures carefully, letting the flowers float freely. And then, out of an abundance of sentimentality, he placed the bowl on his nightstand.

  On Friday one of his former clients stopped by the office. Donna Franco had suffered a mental health crisis in her fifties and ended up losing her job, husband, and home. But she’d worked hard to regain her health and steady her world, and eight months earlier, Ash had helped her find a job with a nonprofit that rehabilitated abandoned animals and found them homes.

  Ash greeted her as soon as she stepped inside. “Ms. Franco! It’s so good to see you again!” She looked wonderful—rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, her back straight. Her clothing wasn’t expensive and it sported a few strands of fur here and there, but the woman was radiant.

  “You know it’s Donna,” she said with a broad smile.

  “I was going to ask you how things are going, but I don’t think I need to.”

  “You know, I’ve been richer. I’ve lived in fancier houses. But I’ve never been this happy. I’m even dipping my toes into the dating pool for the first time in almost four decades!” She was so bouncy about it that he high-fived her, which made her laugh.

  “I’m so happy for you,” Ash said. “You’ve totally made my week.” And that was true. Most of the work had been Donna’s own, but knowing that he’d contributed to her success was a wonderful thing.

  “Well, I just wanted to stop by and thank you again. Really. You believed in me, and you helped me see possibilities in myself. And hang on….” She started digging in her big purse and made a happy little grunt when she found what she was looking for. “Now, this is just a tiny thing. I help make them, and we sell them as a little fundraiser. You know, like for stocking stuffers. Here.” She gave him a ribbon-tied bundle of fabric pillows, each about the size of his open hand.

  “They’re really cute.” Each of the four little pillows was made of a different woodsy-themed fabric, and each had a ribbon loop, presumably for hanging.

  “They’re filled with dried herbs. Air fresheners. You can hang them in a room or stick them in a drawer or put one in your car. I know they’re not much, but I make them with love, and I want you to have a set. A little holiday treat to show how much I appreciate you.”

  He didn’t bother telling her that she didn’t have to give him a gift—they both knew that. But he was also aware that Donna likely felt pleased to be able to share a token of her appreciation. He took a rather uninhibited sniff; they did smell very nice. “Thank you. That’s really thoughtful. They’ll remind me of your visit today, and your success.”

  They chatted for a bit longer, and as she left—“Happy holidays, Ash!”—she also reminded him that he could adopt a nice companion animal, if he had room in his heart for one.

  He was still riding some of the high of that encounter when he left the office. It was already dark by then, but the rain had paused. Since obsessing over Clay and the forest was unproductive, he thought deeply about Hanukkah instead. He hadn’t lied to Troy and Zeke; he was perfectly content to spend the holiday quietly. It wasn’t as if he and Silas had made a big deal of it, and even when Ash was a kid, the celebrations had been fairly low-key. But still, he was happy that he’d get to have dinner with his landlords on Monday. He should bring something besides donuts and salad. Wine, maybe? What went well with potato pancakes?

  He became aware of his surroundings only when his hand reached for a door—Mahonia’s door specifically. Although he hadn’t consciously decided to stop in, he was happy to find himself there.

  As soon as he was inside, several people called out greetings as if he were an old friend. It was like that old TV series, Cheers, only instead of a bunch of barflies, he was welcomed by fairies. The Pollys sat over steaming mugs at their usual table, Sam browsed magazines near the front window, and Mahonia herself smiled from behind the counter. Nep the cat perched on the counter, looking as if he’d been waiting for Ash.

  “Wait,” Ash said he approached. “Hang on.” He pulled out his phone, poked at it a few times, and then crowed with triumph. “Is Nep short for Nepeta cataria, by any chance?” he asked the cat, not feeling at all silly about it.

  Nep did a credible impression of a grinning Cheshire Cat and leapt down to the floor, rubbed his side against Ash’s leg, and then sauntered away.

  Mahonia was already putting something on a plate. “We were wondering how long it would take you to catch on to that one.”

  “I’m a little slow sometimes. Does he mind that the queen turned him into a cat instead of a person?”

  She laughed. “Nep can choose his form, probably because he’s in the mint tribe and, well, you know what they’re like. Mostly he chooses to be a cat.”

  That got Ash thinking about what form he’d choose if he had an option, but after a few moments’ contemplation he decided he was fairly satisfied with being a male human, despite all the complications that sometimes entailed. Also, no hair balls.

  “So what do you think of our Clay, now that you’ve finally met?” Mahonia leaned forward, eyebrows raised playfully.

  “He’s… wow. Um, that’s not very eloquent of me, but… wow.”

  “I agree. He’s a special one. We’re all glad he’s found someone good.”

  Ash blushed at the compliment. “I mean, we’ve just met. He doesn’t know me well yet, and—”

  “Our folk are skilled at judging people. I think you are as well. We’re all confident that it’s an excellent match.”

  “But what if… if something happens and it doesn’t work out?”

  Mahonia looked at him for a moment before pushing a plate toward him. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you something to drink.”

  The plate contained a jelly donut, which he figured was not a coincidence and was Mahonia’s way of helping him celebrate a little early. He took his usual table, exchanging friendly waves with Sam and the Pollys. There were several other customers as well, and they shouted their names by way of introduction: Gary was a very tall, broad man with bushy gray hair; Ruby was also tall, but slender, and her gray hair was sleek; Sid was short with hair the color of bubblegum. Ash didn’t catch the other names.

  He expected someone to strike up a conversation—most likely Sam—but everyone held back as if waiting for something. Even Nep watched, sleepy-eyed, from his windowsill. When Mahonia came over clutching two mugs, everyone else pretended to focus their attention elsewhere. But Ash wasn’t fooled, and judging by her amused expression, neither was Mahonia.

  She sat opposite him and pointed at his donut. “Chag sameach.”

  “Do you celebrate Hanukkah?”

  “We have our own holidays, but I’m always in favor of enjoying someone else’s too.”

  That seemed like a good philosophy. Ash took a nibble of the donut—it was delicious—followed by a careful sip of the drink, which turned out to be a tasty mulled wine. He didn’t bother asking whether Mahonia had a license to serve alcohol.

  “Clay has been very busy with something this week,” Mahonia said before taking a sip of hers. “He looks worried. And he’s been spending time with some members of the royal court, which isn’t usual for him. But he’s been telling all of us that whatever’s going on, it’s not your doing.”

  That was true, Ash supposed, although he couldn’t help feeling partially responsible for the coming disaster, if for no other reason than he’d been the one to break the news to Clay. Also, as a human being and permanent denizen of the non-fairy world, Ash felt as if he should be able to devise a solution of some kind.

  “I don’t want Clay to be upset,” Ash said.

  “Nor do we. He’s dear to us.” She paused for a long moment. “Do you care to tell us what’s going on?”

  Ash shook his head. “No. Sorry. I know he cares about all of you, and if he thinks it’s best to stay quiet about details, I’m not going to second-guess him.”

  To his surprise, Mahonia seemed pleased with his response. “Good.”

  “Was this another test?”

  “Not exactly. It’s only… a person might be tempted to view Clay as an innocent, and to assume that Clay requires guidance. I’m relieved to know that you respect his decisions.”

  Ash’s response was earnest. “I do. And anyway, when it comes to your world, I’m the innocent. I don’t know anything. Except that I want him to be happy, and if he wants my help, I’ll happily give it.”

  She nodded gravely, and for several minutes both of them were quiet. Ash had finished off the donut and was nursing his wine when Mahonia stood, strode to the pastry display, and returned with a plate containing an assortment of small savory pastries. “I know your people generally have the savory first and the sweets last, but you can make an exception.”

  “Gladly.”

  She arranged herself back in the chair. “I won’t press you for information, but I will give you a bit of advice. Be cautious about anything involving our court, especially our queen.”

  “I understand she’s, um, unpredictable.”

  “Consider the rain.” Mahonia waved toward the front windows, where little streamlets made patterns on the glass and refracted the stoplights and streetlights into colored blurs and sparkles. It looked as if it was really coming down. Ash was glad to be warm and dry inside, and he hoped the deluge would let up before he had to head home.

  “It can descend as anything from a light mist to a raging torrent. It nourishes everything. But it also erodes and, at times, destroys. Often it ceases altogether for far too long, leaving living things parched and gasping. But you can’t call the rain good and kind or evil and cruel. It just is, irrespective of what others might make of it.”

  Chaotic neutral, Ash thought, and nodded his understanding.

  “One can be grateful for the rain,” Mahonia continued. “And one can be bitter about it. One can yearn for it to start or to stop. But the rain doesn’t care. And one must always, always be respectful of its power and vigilant about its effects.”

  “But you can’t avoid it entirely, not forever. I mean, not unless you intend to keep yourself locked indoors for the rest of your life, and who wants that?”

  Mahonia’s expression was that of a teacher whose student has done well. She stood and walked around the table to give Ash’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Then she grabbed her empty cup and returned to her post behind the counter.

  Ash took his time finishing his little meal. Predictably, Mahonia wouldn’t let him give her any money. Instead she sent him into the tidy kitchen area, which he hadn’t seen before, and assigned him the task of washing a few dishes.

  By the time he stepped outside again, the rain had subsided to a drizzle. He didn’t know whether that was a portent or if the storm system was just moving on.

  Nine

  ASH FELT restless on Saturday and even considered going to the office, but he really didn’t have that much work to do. He went grocery shopping instead—and didn’t bump into any fairies at Fred Meyer, at least as far as he knew. Maybe many of the other shoppers were supernatural beings. It would certainly explain a lot.

  After he’d put away the groceries, he did some laundry and housecleaning. He paid some bills. He looked up some recipes, things that might make a nice Christmas present for his landlords. He FaceTimed his nieces and nephews, who would be far too caught up with gift-opening the following night to have time for him. He read part of one of Troy’s old paperbacks, a novel about a cavewoman. And he stood at the living room window, gazing out toward the woods.

  Sunday arrived bright and sunny and cold. After Ash got tired of restlessly pacing his apartment, he bundled up and went for an aimless wander. He looked in the shop windows on Hawthorne, strolled through Laurelhurst Park, and eventually ended up on the Eastbank Esplanade, where he watched the Willamette River roll by until he was thoroughly chilled. He warmed himself with a coffee bought at a corporate place that was not run by fairies and wasn’t in the least magical. And then he trudged home.

  Clay was waiting on the landing outside Ash’s door.

  He’d been sitting on the floor, back against the wall and eyes closed, but Ash softly called his name, and Clay scrambled to his feet.

  “Sorry!” Clay said at once. “I probably should have waited outdoors, but—”

  Ash closed the space between them and gathered him into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.” As Ash stroked Clay’s hair, a few tiny blossoms bloomed among the curls.

  With something between a sigh and whimper, Clay clutched him back. “I wasn’t sure,” Clay whispered.

  “Wasn’t sure of what?”

  “That you’d still want to see me once you got over the shock of finding out my people exist.”

  Instead of reassuring him with words, Ash held him tighter and kissed his cheek. Clay, melting completely against him, smelled like the forest, and Ash realized he’d been missing the woods, even though he’d been inside them only that once. It was one of the wonderful scents—like the soap Ash’s grandmother had used, or his mother’s perfume, or his father’s secret-recipe fried chicken—that brought associations of home.

  “Let’s go inside,” Ash offered, although it was hard to let go of Clay for even those few moments. Ash removed his coat and boots and unlocked the door. Clay removed his colorful floral rain boots, revealing the rainbow socks Ash had left for him.

  Clay caught him looking. “They’re perfect and I love them. Thank you. But you should know—someone can accept gifts from a fairy without any worries as long as the gifts are not food. But giving a gift to a fairy is not an action to take lightly. It implies an importance to the relationship. So maybe I should give them back to you.”

  “No.”

  That made Clay grin widely. “Really? You want to imply something?”

  “I’m willing to do more than that. But let’s go inside, okay?”

  Ash was still cold from his walk, and he thought he’d brew them something hot to drink. But as soon as the door closed behind them, Clay was in his arms again, and that was a lot better than tea. It was funny how well their bodies fit together and how familiar this felt even though they’d barely touched before.

  “Plants don’t dream,” Clay said, his lips so close that his breath tickled Ash’s ear. “Not the way humans or fairies do, anyway. My first dream after the queen changed me scared me a little. They don’t scare me anymore, but sometimes they confuse me. I don’t understand what they mean. I’ve dreamed of you every night since I last saw you, and that hasn’t confused me at all.”

  “What have you dreamed?”

  “Happiness.”

  Such a simple word, but it held so much meaning.

  “I want to us to be happy. Together,” Ash said.

  But despite the moment’s warm fuzzies, reality managed to sneak in. He sighed and loosened his hold on Clay without quite letting go. “But the woods.”

  Clay nodded gravely.

  “I saw Mahonia a couple of days ago. She said you’ve been busy with the royal court. She tried to see if I’d tell her what was going on, but I didn’t, and then she seemed sort of happy about that.”

  “I know. She told me so yesterday.” Clay cupped Ash’s cheek in a warm palm. “I never asked you to keep it a secret.”

  “Well, we didn’t discuss that aspect. But since you weren’t spilling the tea to your people, I figured you had a good reason for that. So I kept my mouth shut.”

  “You trust me.”

  Ash looked into his own heart and easily found the truth. “Yes.”

  Clay leaned in again, this time for a kiss on the lips. It wasn’t long or exceptionally passionate, but it chased the last of the chill away so thoroughly that Ash thought he might never feel cold again.

  “I obtained an audience with the queen.” Clay didn’t look especially happy about it.

  “But that’s good, isn’t it?”

  “It’s what I was trying for. But… I’m terrified.”

  “Is there an alternative?”

  Clay shook his head.

  After another kiss, this one just the barest touch, Ash considered the advice he sometimes gave clients—the words of wisdom a therapist had given him after his parents’ sudden deaths.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being scared of something that’s legitimately threatening or dangerous. In fact, it’s a normal, healthy response. But if facing that thing is important, then you have to find the strength to do it despite the fear. And if possible, find other people who will support you.”