Chapter 3

Emily was a small, warm weight on her hip. The sun was high enough that it no longer shone in the east facing kitchen window. She did not want to wake up. She closed her eyes and willed herself to go back to sleep. Her body had other ideas. She sighed, and stretched. Emily slithered off her hip, curling up in a ball on the corner of the bed. Mickie flipped the covers back and sat up on the edge of the bed, yawning.

Down in her basement bathroom, she washed herself up while standing at the sink. Her mom had always called this a “bird bath,” running soap and then a wash cloth across the “stinky bits.” Not having an actual shower, she did this most mornings, saving full baths for when she had time for the luxury of soaking in a tubful of hot water.

She combed her light brown hair, kept short for easy care. She hated having to fuss with it if it got long enough to need tying back, or if it fell into her green eyes. The face that looked back out of her mirror was fairly plain in her opinion, with a square jaw and wide mouth. Her heavy eyebrows countered a high forehead.

She shrugged her robe on over broad shoulders, turning toward the door. At five feet ten inches tall, she had to duck slightly under the low, timber framed doorway. Heading back up the stairs, she quickly dressed in a plain black t-shirt and black jeans, her usual workday clothing.

She started water boiling for coffee. She rinsed the glass pot and set up the cone and filter, spooning dark roasted ground coffee into the paper filter. A glance at the clock showed her it wasn't even 11 AM yet. She usually slept til noon, and here she was already washed and dressed.

While the water heated, she opened the back door and stepped out onto her porch. A bright, sunny day greeted her, making her squint. The light reflected off of a pale yellow envelope lying at the top of the steps. She stared at it. What was that doing here? All her mail and packages came to the front door.

She picked it up, noting a floral scent. Her full name was written on the front in a graceful calligraphic script, in green ink. Running her fingers over the heavy paper, she had a momentary vision of a garden filled to bursting with a wild profusion of flowers. She blinked, and the image was gone.

She turned back toward the door, sliding a finger under the flap. It was only lightly sealed, and opened easily. Stepping inside, she extracted the card, setting the envelope on the table.

The cardstock was the same pale yellow as the envelope. On the front was an embossed image of irises. Not a photo, but somehow so realistic that she almost expected them to move. Brushing a fingertip across the embossing brought her another flash of the garden scene, along with a mixture of floral scents.

She opened the card, finding words within that were rendered in the same green ink, and in the same calligraphic script.

You Are Cordially Invited

To Present Yourself

And Your Cat

To The Queen of Flowers

At Your Earliest Convenience

#214 Iris Circle

The Court of Flowers

Well, that was odd. And where the heck was Iris Circle? Mickie had never heard of it. She dug her street guide out of her cab bag. Nope, no Iris Circle listed. It didn't show up on the city street map, either.

The teakettle whistled, so she poured water over the coffee grounds in the cone above the pot. While waiting for it to drip, she examined the card more closely. There were no markings on the back, no company logo or copyright date on either card or envelope. The green ink writing had variations in it that made her think it must have been hand written, in spite of almost perfect consistency from one letter to the next.

Where on earth could this have come from? And how had it ended up on her back porch? Somehow, though, it felt as if it was very important. But how could she find a street not on any of her maps?

“Ask Kaito.” said Emily.

Mickie looked sharply at the cat. “Why would he know?”

Emily flicked one ear. “He is a kitsune. He will know where all the fae things are.You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed his ears.”

Mickie raised her eyebrows. “You mean that’s real? I always thought I was imagining that.”

“When will you learn to trust your sight?” Emily responded, tilting her head. “You know more than you know. ”

“I need coffee.”

Mickie poured herself a cup, and assembled a bowl of cereal for her breakfast.

“When you see someone you think isn't human, you should look more closely.” Emily said, washing her face with a paw. “There are other creatures everywhere.”

“I guess there are.” said Mickey, “But Dad always said it was rude to look too close.”

“Perhaps he was afraid of what he would see.” the cat replied.

“Huh. Maybe he was.”

Mickie thought of how her father had always shut her down when she told him about things she'd seen as a small child. He dismissed them as childish foolishness.

“You're imagining things.” he'd say. “Don't stare sideways at things. It warps your view.”

Of course, she had to try harder to look sideways, then. She saw more things. But since he kept telling her they weren't real, she stopped telling him about them. She tried to stop looking for them, stop believing what she saw. After a while, she almost convinced herself it really was just her imagination.

That last summer up in the UP, though, after her mom died, her body had begun to grow and change. The physical changes, she had been expecting. Mom had made sure she knew what becoming a woman involved. But there had been other changes, too.

There were the voices she started hearing whenever she got near anybody. And the flashes of vision she got when she touched certain things, like old jewelry, or second hand clothing. She tried real hard not to see things, not to hear thoughts. It was even worse if someone touched her. And, of course, if she acted on anything she “heard” or “saw” she got called a weirdo, or a witch, or worse.

Her dad had always said it was her mother's blood that gave her these problems. Usually right after he told her to “Stay out of my head!” But what if some of it came from him? Did that have anything to do with why he wanted to leave Upper Michigan?

She wished she could ask him about that. She wished she could ask her mom a lot of things. But that would never happen now.

-)O(-

As she walked onto the lot, Emily riding on her shoulder, Corry waved to her from where she was cleaning out her cab. Mickie waved back as she headed towards the building. She didn't know Corry well, but the dark haired, dark eyed woman was always friendly and seemed happy to see her.

Mickie's shift started at three in the afternoon. She always tried to arrive at least a half an hour early. That gave her time to find her cab, make sure everything worked, and replace lightbulbs or top up the oil if needed. She hated seeing a car with a light or signal out. She didn't want her cab to be that car.

She would always wash all the windows, and check the trunk for anything someone might have forgotten. She'd look under the seats and in the glove box. Why people called it a glove box, she wasn't sure. She'd never found any gloves in one.

She had found some pretty odd things left behind by passengers, usually in the back seat. Some of them were ordinary things: clipboards, sunglasses, the aforementioned gloves, even wallets. Some were best to not think about too hard.

The oddest thing she had ever found had been a small leather bag in the corner of her trunk, containing an entirely unremarkable looking rock. It was dark grey and pockmarked, looking almost like a sponge.

When she had poured it out into her hand, she had a vision of the rock surrounded by fire. None of the flames could get near the rock, as though it were holding them away. She had shoved the rock back in the bag, pulling the drawstring tight.

She still had it, in the bottom of her cab bag. For some reason she could not bring herself to throw it away. Nor had she ever told anyone but Emily about it. “It may be useful.” was all the cat had to say. So she kept it.

Shaking her head to dispel the memory, she walked into the dispatch office and plucked the keys for #16 off the hook.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Korpi, Ms.Emily.” Kaito said.

“Good afternoon, Kaito.” Mickie replied.

Emily chirped a small meow.

Kaito was always very formal in his speech, and most of the drivers tended to respond in kind. It just felt horribly impolite not to.

Kaito tipped his head slightly to one side, nostrils flaring. “That is an unusual perfume. Is it something new?” he asked.

“Oh! Right!” Mickie reached inside her jacket, pulling out the card. “I found this on my back porch this morning. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

He accepted the card from her, eyes widening and brows rising. He read it, and handed it back to her.

“Well, you must go. It would be most impolite to ignore a summons from the Queen.”

“But where is Iris Circle?” Mickie asked. “I can’t find it on any of the maps.”

“It is in the Court of Flowers.” he said, his eyes shining.

“Which is where?” Mickie felt he was laughing at her.

“South in the Flowers.” Kaito replied, as though that were obvious.

She was sure she saw his ears, now, red furred with black tips like a fox.

“The trailer park is a Fae Court?” She asked, a bit sarcastically.

Kaito simply nodded once, slowly, a small smile on his lips.

“You’re kidding!” Mickie said.

“On the contrary, Ms. Korpi. I am quite serious. You are bonded to a fae cat. Surely you cannot doubt the existence of the Fae Courts.”

Mickie looked at Emily sitting on her shoulder.

“He’s got a point.” the cat told her.

Mickie looked up at his ears again. He flicked one in her direction.

“You must go.” Kaito said. “I have a call for you on the Square going to S. Park St. After that, go up to the Court of Flowers. You will have no trouble finding the address.”

He handed her a slip of paper with a call written on it. Mickie took the slip, clipped it to her clipboard, and wandered out of the office, feeling bemused.

“Give Iris my regards.” Kaito called as the door swung closed.