A pixie and a demon meet in Denny's...
Wind rattled around the little house in rural Maryland, and Belle unconsciously pulled the couch blanket over her lap. She didn't need the blanket; the room was very warm. There was something about the wind that demanded it; it pulled at her imagination. It took only a flicker of concentration for the heat to rise a little more.
She didn't know what Smoke did for heat when she wasn't here. He must freeze. The gas had been cut off for at least a week now. He was gone when the bills came, and she had piled them on the kitchen counter. They were still there. Dust was gathering on them.
Belle put her book down and glided into the kitchen. The cupboards were getting spares, but she found a half eaten box of cereal and returned to her spot on the couch. The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe lay bend open, and as she lifted it, cramming Apple Jacks in her mouth, she couldn't help but wish for some of Edmund's Turkish delight.
The book took her several days to finish, in which she did little else. The house was empty, and the television filled with re-runs. Finally, Smoke came home. At dinner that night (Chinese delivery - he had no better luck with the cupboards then she did) Belle mentioned the book.
"Smoke - they have an ice place. People, turned to ice!" She went on, discussing how pretty such statues would be, as they sparkled in the winter wonderland. "I'd love to see something like that."
He grunted. "It's not cold enough here for that. Up North that shit happens. Saw something like that in Boston, once." He kept shoveling food into his face. When he was done, he lit up and looked down at her. "Hard run, Tink, hard run. I need some shut eye." Smoke glanced around. "You need anything, kid?"
She shook her head no. Belle had seen his pack of Lucky Strikes. Smoke hated Lucky's. There was nothing to give, and she knew it. That was okay. She could take care of herself. Smoke nodded at her, and patted her shoulder on the way into his room. She sat at the table for awhile, kicking her feet. After a couple of moments, she could hear Smoke's voice in the other room. "Yeah, yeah, Nancy, I'm fine....I know I said I'd call...I'm callin', ain't I?" She waited until his voice raised into an unhappy roar. Belle checked the clock: 17 minutes until screaming. Longer than usual. They must be doing better.
She got up and grabbed her backpack from her room. It was always packed, and had everything she could need: a change of clothes, sewing kit, gun, extra bullets, gameboy, and calling card. Belle packed the leftover Chinese carefully and put it into the backpack - it would be a long trip. Her brother's armored jacket provided a couple of bucks from the pocket. Shrugging on the backpack, she made her way to the door. As she touched the knob, she turned and glared at the radiator. It only took a couple of seconds to set the spell; at least Smoke wouldn't freeze to death in his sleep. She missed the irony of that concern in the context of her current quest.
It was a two mile walk to the Greyhound station, but the 11 year-old had done it many times before. She skipped through the winter wonderland, enjoying the mimicry of the world of Narnia. She sighed - if only it was "The Lion, Witch, and the Watchtower."
The Greyhound station was deserted. Peering into the back office window, she looked at the large white board of what bus was scheduled to go there. It didn't take much effort to find the bus to Boston. It was even an express. Making sure only the gleaming moonlight could see her, she slipped into the luggage compartment under the bus. Propping her backpack in the far back corner where it would be overlooked, she placed both hands on the top opening and shrunk herself. The first time she had done this, she had to climb the whole backpack just to get inside. At four inches tall, that was quite a feat. It was nothing she wanted to repeat. In her pre-arranged bed, Belle beat several levels of Pokemon Pinball before falling asleep.
She awoke with a large thud as the backpack was placed on the sidewalk by the bus. Peering out, she saw she with the rest of the luggage and the passengers had yet to dismount. She quickly slid out, and, making sure she was well hidden, stretched out to a normal size. Grabbing her backpack, she headed out to find the White Witch's ice people. Smoke had said people froze in Boston, and she wanted to see it.
Boston was much bigger than she had expected, and was lacking any form of signs to the ice statuarys. She spent the day looking around the city, fascinated by the snow and historic beauty. Belle followed a school tour group through a museum, and was fed lunch by a harried worker who clearly assumed she was with the other kids. Belle didn't object. She had hot chocolate in a diner waiting for the temperature to drop. Before she left, she asked the waitress where the frozen people were. The young woman looked decidedly uncomfortable, and told Tink to get on her way. The girl thought that was rude, but since she didn't get charged for the coco, it was all okay.
Belle walked for a good part of the night through beautiful parts of town, the air around her constantly being warmed, until she managed to get quite lost. It was here, lost, that she found the seedier areas and eventually found someone in a far back alley who seemed a bit blue. Excited, she ran up to him. She had looked all night - and almost given up hope - yet here was what Smoke had promised: a frozen person!
He was surprisingly disappointing. Filthy, bedraggled and propped against a dumpster, he looked nothing like the beautiful statues in the White Witch's courtyard. Rather than being clear, his skin was a horrible shade of blue and there was nothing translucent about him. Tink stepped back to consider the situation. Perhaps - perhaps he was too frozen, like ice cubes when they got air in them. Maybe he froze so fast that his soul got trapped inside, giving it this ugly look. She chewed on her lower lip as she wrestled with the situation.
There was only one thing to do. She'd have to melt him a little so the soul could get out. Once it escaped, then the shell it left behind would be free to shine with the beauty the book had promised her. Tink cocked her head, and focused on the frozen bum. He started to shimmer, and a foul stench was released. She leaned in close to make sure she could get him to the right level of melted, when the ice supporting him gave way. He fell forward, on to her, his stench overwhelming, and his eyes hollow yellow chunks. Tink shrieked, and her magic intrinsically responded. The man's face rapidly melted, like plastic exposed to flame, leaving a horrible brown puss behind. It splattered all over her, soaking her in soggy flesh. Scrambling out from under him, Tink pushed herself with her hands and feet until she reached the end of the alleyway. There, she turned and ran.
She had no idea how long she ran. She was covered with this retched substance - melted and then frozen flesh - on her front, and her back was smeared with alley grime and bum piss. When she finally had to stop, she could feel his flesh oozing on to hers, and she ran again. Finally, exhausted, filthy, and terrified, she found the Greyhound station. Without looking at the bus numbers, or even thinking to shrink herself, she slid into the baggage area and sobbed herself to sleep.
Belle awoke to someone screaming at her. She hadn't slept very long, it must have been a local bus. The busdriver was barking something about trespassing and arrest; she didn't listen as she stumbled into the bright winter light and kept moving. It took her awhile to remember why she was running, but once she did, she sprinted from the memory. Belle didn't get very far before she was winded, and still exhausted. Looking up, she could see a Denny's, and she dragged herself into it, and into the bathrooms. Several people looked at her oddly on the way in, but she didn't care. Tink had other problems. Locking the door, she stripped down to nothing, threw the clothes she was wearing in the trash, plugged up the sink, filled it full of hot, soapy water, shrank, and bathed. She could have soaked all day, but their was pounding and threats at the door, so she pulled herself back together and put on her extra clothes. Picking up her almost empty backpack, she opened the door for the irate consumer and headed back into the main area.
The hostess gave her a dirty look, so Belle moved to the lobby area to count the money she had pilfered from Smoke. There really wasn't much of anything; he really, really did hate Lucky Strikes. Maybe she had enough for a cup of coffee. Maybe, just maybe, she should call home. She squashed that thought quickly - she could do this - and went back to looking at the change in her hand. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the inside door open, and started when the man looming over her cleared his throat. His clothing seemed slightly archaic, and had that same reinforced quality of Smoke's. The strange man motioned her back inside with gesture of his head, and she unquestioningly followed. He may have been unknown and odd, but he wasn't melting.
He slid back into one of the booths and picked up his water again, giving her time to get settled. Belle threw her backpack in the corner and sat cross legged on the red vinyl booth, just getting comfortable as the waitress showed up.
"Oh, you poor little thing, you look so cold!" the white trash waitress coo'd at the new arrival. It was hard to tell who gave the woman a more hostile look, the man or the little girl. The waitress didn't even seem to notice, having lost all sense of empathy (or self-preservation) from years of the late night food industry. He gestured her to order, and beaming at him, Belle did. She consumed milk, eggs, pancakes, pie, and bacon in relatively short order - scarfing down food with the same grace as a trash compactor - as he watched her considering.
Belle was trying to balance finishing her meal and staying awake. She was grateful her unknown benefactor wasn't trying to talk to her. She didn't think she could get past "ugh." But at least she was clean. And fed. And he wasn't melting.
As she shoved the last of the food into her face, he stood up, and threw money on the table. She followed him as he left the restaurant like a lost puppy; she didn't know where they were going, but one place was as good as another. And he wasn't melting, so it was okay. The end was hard to remember. She remembered leaving, and him holding the door for her both times as they left the Denny's. He stopped outside by a bench for a momemt, looking around at the ice-covered street. By the time he looked back, she was curled up on the bench, sound asleep.