Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback(28)

Best of all, the bridge was made of iron—a virtual fortress of iron, in fact, which should’ve been enough to win him a little peace. That and the bottle of Four Roses Yellow Label he’d bought with the last of this month’s check.

But Russell was finding that, for an out-of-the-way place, his new crib on Canal Street was in a high-traffic area for magical creatures.

The river was swarming with shellycoats—he heard the soft chiming of their bells all day long. Kappas lurked around the pillars of the bridge, poking their greenish noses out of the water, watching for unwary children. The carcasses of ashrays washed up on shore, disintegrating as soon as the sunlight hit them.

? 95 ?

? Warrior Dreams ?

Where were they all coming from? Was there some kind of paranormal convention going on and nobody told him?

The first night, he’d awakened to the adrenaline rush and a pair of red fur boots, inches from his nose.

“Hey!” Russell said, rolling out of danger and grabbing up the iron bar he always kept close. The creature screeched and scrambled backwards, out of range. It was the size of a small child, with a long beard, burning coal eyes, and a ratty red and black fur coat. Like a garden gnome out of a nightmare.

“Listen up, gnomeling,” Russell said, “you sneak up on a person, you’re liable to get clobbered.”

The creature struck a kind of pose, lips drawn back from rotten teeth, one hand extended toward Russell.

“Je suis le Nain Rouge de Detroit,” it began.

Russell shook his head. “En Anglais, s’il vous plait. Je ne parle pas Francais.”

It scratched its matted beard. “You just did.”

“Did what?”

“Spoke French.”

“Maybe,” Russell said, “but now I’m done.” He leaned back against a bridge pillar and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. At one time, he’d been fluent in five languages, but he’d forgotten a lot since the magic thing began.

The gnomeling let go a sigh of disgust. “I am the Red Dwarf of Detroit,” it repeated. “Harbinger of doom and disaster.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Russell said. “But this isn’t Detroit. It’s Cleveland. Detroit’s a little more to the left.” He pointed with his cigarette. “Just follow the lake, you can’t miss it.”

The dwarf shook his head. “I may be the Red Dwarf of Detroit, but my message is for you.” And then it disappeared.

Way to ruin a good night’s sleep.

The second night, it was the dog. Russell woke to find it snuggled next to him, its huge, furry body like a furnace against his sleeping bag. He nearly strangled it before he realized what it was. He was ? 96 ?

? Cinda Williams Chima ?

definitely losing his edge. No way any animal that size should’ve been able to sneak up on him

“Hey,” Russell said, sitting up. “Where’d you come from?” After holding out his hand for a sniff, he scratched the beast behind the ears. It was immense, probably a Newfoundland, or a mix of that and something else.

Russell liked dogs. They accepted a wide range of behavior without question, and they believed in magic, too.

The next morning, Russell shared his meager gleanings from the dumpster behind the Collision Bend Café, and the dog elected to stay with him another night. Russell’s rule was, if a dog stays two nights, it gets a name.

“Is it all right if I call you Roy?” Russell asked. The dog didn’t object, so Roy it was. That night Russell fell asleep, secure in the belief that old Roy had his back.

He awoke to six nixies tugging on his toes with their sinuous fingers. Yanking his feet free, he said, “Ixnay, nixies.”

They swarmed back into the water and commenced to squabbling about what, if anything, they should do with him.

“He sees us!”

“He will tell!”

“We must drown him!”

“Some watchdog you are,” Russell said, glaring at Roy. The Newfie stretched, shook out his long black coat, and trotted off to anoint the bridge for the hundredth time.

After shooing away the nixies, Russell kindled a fire. He hadn’t lost the knack since he’d been chaptered out of the Army. Like riding a goddamn bike. He curled up and tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t shake a sense of imminent danger. The nixies kept muttering, and that didn’t help. He tossed and turned so much that Roy growled, got up, and found a spot on the other side of the fire.