Andre gave him a funny look. “You think what, she’s dangerous?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. I meant more like I’m concerned about her getting out and . . . hit by a car or something.”
Andre looped her hair around her fingers. “Yeah . . . well, there is no protocol in this situation, but I think she’s capable enough not to get hurt.” She frowned. “We have no idea, actually.”
“Yeah.”
“But, you left her alone all morning after you first saw her.”
“I almost pissed myself when I first saw her. I didn’t think about whether or not leaving her alone was the right thing to do.”
“Wherever she’s come from, I imagine she’s traveled far. I bet she’s tired. I’m going to ask her if she wants to sleep,” Andre said decisively. He followed her back into the shed, where she squatted down in front of the space Shae had made for herself. “Would you like to sleep?” Andre pressed her hands together and turned her head to the side, a childlike miming. Shae blinked slowly and gave no response, but Andre took this as an affirmative and turned to Ben. “Yeah. I’m going to get her some blankets and a pillow.” She passed by him. When she got to the door, she said. “I don’t think it would be wise for you to drink any more alcohol.”
He stared at Shae while Andre was upstairs. She kept her gaze down in her lap. He felt like he should say something, offer some words of comfort or hospitality, but nothing came.
Andre returned, a comforter and two pillows wedged beneath her arms. She shrugged the comforter out over the length of the now nearly-empty storage shed, in front of the chair. Without any prompting, Shae lay down, wrapped the bedding over herself completely, and disappeared into a tight little ball. They stepped out quietly, shutting the door but for a crack.
They sat at the kitchen table. The house looked different. The prosaic blended odor of a dog, semi-clean furniture, and residual garlic that permeated their little home was comforting but more noticeable now than it usually was. Ben rubbed his face and contemplated getting another beer. Andre took the teapot, filled it with water from the tap, and soon they sat over steaming mugs of chamomile.
For a few minutes, they shared the silence. It was monumental, not even worth attempting to put into words right away. Andre blew lightly over her drink and took a sip. “I don’t think we should tell anyone,” she said.
“Me neither.”
“At least not yet.” The rectangular clock of brass and wood that Ben’s grandfather had made struck the half-hour. “I’ll peek in on her a few more times before I go to bed tonight, but I think that’s all we can do right now.” Andre removed her hands from the mug and held them out before her. They trembled like she had palsy. “We should—I should have offered her water or food or something but . . . I think she’s asleep now, and I just can’t. I just can’t.” She started hyperventilating.
“Shhh.”
“What the hell.”
“Yup,” he agreed.
She took a few, shaky breaths. “Where were you anyway, today when I first came by?”
“In the woods. I went there after I saw her. I don’t know why. I thought I’d maybe find some sort of explanation out there.”
“Huh. I went out there too. Guess we missed each other. I just got as far as the stream before Amy texted me.”
“I forgot to bring my phone. I went like a mile. I think I was in shock and just needed to keep moving. I didn’t find anything either, though.”
She tilted her head back and took a deep breath. “Crap. I told Merri I’d cover her for work tomorrow. Look, I don’t fault you for getting wasted all day, but you’ve got to shape up. I have to go in at least and open. You’ve got to be around for her.” Ben sensed Andre had the same overwhelming conviction that they needed to watch out for the creature, keep her safe.
“What about Amy?”
Andre bit her lips. “I’ve got to think . . .”
“Okay. And Ryan?”
She shook her head. “Oh god, I can’t imagine keeping this from him for long, but he’s in Arizona right now for work. He’s back tomorrow morning. I’m not going to just text him a picture.” She smiled suddenly. “I feel so weird right now.”
“I feel weird, too,” Ben said.
“We must still be in shock, right? This doesn’t happen every day. Maybe it’s never happened to anyone ever before.” She smiled again, dazed. “It’s so freaking cool! What do you think it means? What is she?”
He shook his head. “An alien? We found her the morning after that light. She must have come with it. She’s like . . . a bona fide alien, right? Like a gray alien, except . . . a little different?”
Andre leaned forward and blew on the fragrant steam, frowning. “I don’t know. I think she looks like a faerie.” Nodding, she pocketed her phone and stood up, grabbing her tea. “I mean, you see it too, right?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I’m going to see what I can find online.”
Andre went into her room and turned her laptop on. Most of the websites proved useless: flashy images of half-naked winged women or faerie children, poems with inspirational quotes, links to Wiccan sites, dribbles of mythology, and Celtic history. She reviewed some things she was already familiar with: the Tuatha De Danaan, Morgan Le Fay, the disappearance of Robert Kirk, the poetry of Yeats.
She perused until the screen made her squint, and her mouth was dry. She scribbled notes in her book and wrote down a few questions to ask Shae. Andre was pretty sure the name Shae was Irish. And Ireland was associated with faeries. The West Coast of North America had some Native American faerie tales, but Andre couldn’t believe there were any ley lines in Shellara Regional Park. She’d half grown up here. She would have felt it before now, wouldn’t she? After making notes of some books that might be helpful, Andre closed her laptop.
She needed a little mission—the feeling she was taking steps to get answers and not just sitting around while a world-shattering secret sat in that backyard. She took a shower and brushed her hair, and lay in bed for a long time, trying to sleep. For as long as Andre could remember, she’d been waiting for something extraordinary to appear around a corner. All her life, she’d hoped for and dreamed of something like Shae. Of course, there was more to life than this conveyer belt of work, play, sleep, rinse, repeat. Of course, there would be something impossible and wondrous one day. That day had finally come. Her eyes filled with tears. And now that Shae was here, Andre needed to know where she’d come from. She wanted to penetrate the barrier and see that world. That night, Andre dreamed she had wings.
Chapter FOUR
I lay staring at the shaft of light—different from the rich-orange rays I know—slanting down through the small, high window of the box. Everything is different. The air is acrid and saturated with filth. I look down and run my fingers over the ungainly garment. I have only a fuzzy memory now of what I am supposed to do. I no longer have my name. But I’ve spoken and made a sound for them—“Shae”—and so now there is something.