When darkness fell, Daeynn put down her tools and took hold of the finished device. It was fairly heavy, of course, at least seven hundred pounds even with the water reservoir empty, but she had little difficulty in shifting it onto the wooden sledge she kept for such situations. Once the gleaming metal contraption was in place, it was no problem at all dragging it between the mounds of various items; cars and parts of cars, old refrigerators, washing machines, lawn mowers, and the like, and towards the front of the junkyard. It had rained off and on through the day, so the dead, oil-soaked ground offered footing that was even more treacherous than usual, causing her heavy work boots to sink deep into the mud with every step.

She didn’t complain about the conditions, though, even to herself. Things were as they were; bitching and moaning about it achieved nothing. If she didn’t like walking in the mud, then it would be up to her to do something about it.

Hm; that was a thought.

Maybe a path, or walkway, made from short sections of four-by-four lumber? No, there wasn’t nearly enough wood in the yard to make a one of any usable length. Metal, now, that she had in abundance. Perhaps a track, then, like a small railroad track? Yeah, that would work; with rails laid over widely-spaced sections of what wood she had….

She snorted softly as she dragged the sledge onwards. Idle thoughts were all they were; there was no real need for such a thing. It would take more than a little mud to keep her from moving things about as she needed. Besides, laying a track would be boring. She needed to build, but what she built could at least be interesting.

A couple of minutes and several hundred yards later she came to the front, public area of the lot. Inside several small, interconnected structures of concrete block, Mr. Delray presided over what he grandly proclaimed to be ‘antiques’. Some actually were, she supposed. Others were small devices that she herself had made, using the materials at hand. And outside, around the buildings and in no particular order, were her larger works.

A twin-engine go-cart was parked to one side; so powerful that it was probably too dangerous to actually drive. Beside it sat a six-foot high dragon, made all of brass and bits of plexiglass, and with a head in the shape of a cat. There were pedal-powered water pumps and wind-powered coin-sorters, a set of bookshelves too large to fit through a door (which was why it came with a retractable weather cover), and a small gang of concrete lawn gnomes, each of them equipped with a connection in their butt for a water hose, and every orifice standing ready to spray water in all directions. Dozens of things, some of them not immediately identifiable, stood there.

There were empty spots too, because in spite of everything, some people actually paid money for the things she made. Not that this especially concerned her, other than the fact that it made empty places where she could put newly made creations.

Like the one she was dragging.

Setting down the end of the sledge, she flexed the fingers of her hand, then twisted her shoulder around and around for a minute, trying to work the ache from the muscles there.

What’s this? Draggin’ a itty-bitty thing like this and I’m tired? Must be gettin’ old. She smiled bleakly to herself, the movement of her lips stiff, mechanical. Ha ha; that’s a good one.

“Hey now,” someone called from behind her. “What’re you bringing out here now, you devil-girl?”

It was Mr. Delray, speaking from the dry and relatively mud-free safety of the front porch.

Daeynn didn’t bother looking around; she knew what he looked like. It rather depressed her, actually, what he looked like. Moving around to the side of the device, she bent and took hold of the frame to which the major components had been welded. Exercising more care than was really required, she smoothly lifted it clear of the sledge, turned, and sat it down on the ground. Its weight caused it to settle an inch or two into the mud, and she brushed her hands together as she turned away.

All right then; next?

She started off towards the area over to the side where new things were usually to be found; bits and pieces of junk, scrap metal, and occasionally old cars and motorcycles which Delray had been able to buy cheap and have dumped here for Daeynn to root through.

“Hey! You not hearin’ me?” The man’s voice was petulant; he sometimes grew agitated at her habitual practice of ignoring him. Rather than provoke him further, she paused. She still didn’t look at him, though; doing so would only depress her.

“What?” She asked, tiredly.

Which was a little strange, because she didn’t get tired.

Somewhat more calmly now, he spoke again.

“I asked you ‘What is that thing?’”

Daeynn turned her head and looked at what she had built that day.

It was compact, with several tanks, many sections of pipe connecting them, various dials and gauges, access doors, and a short smokestack topping it all. Oddly enough, this was the first time she had taken a real look at it. Usually, after finishing something, she would take a while to admire it before bringing it up to leave here. Sometimes even a small, easily-completed item would hold her attention for hours after it was done, and only with difficulty would she eventually move on to something else. Lately, though (‘lately’ in this case meant, oh, the last decade or so) she found herself casting things aside as soon as they were complete, diving into the next task almost without pause. Looking now at what she had made, she sighed with dissatisfaction.

“It’s a steam engine.”

The sound that came from Delray was almost comical; the sort of sound a chicken might make if it were to unexpectedly come face-to-face with Colonel Sanders.

“A steam engine?!” He sputtered in disbelief. “What good is a damned steam engine going to do anybody in this day and age?”

Daeynn shrugged.

“What good does any of this crap do anybody, old man?”

She looked at him then, really looked for the first time in a long while. ‘Old man’ she had called him, and old man he was. Bent now, stooped where he had once been tall, hair gone white with none of its former coal-black evident at all. She barely recognized him, so different he was from the lanky youth who had inherited the junkyard from his uncle, all those years before….

Daeynn turned away, feeling somewhat ill.

“It’s a good steam engine. High compression, great power-to-weight ratio; you won’t find a better steam engine.” Her mutters trailed off as she reached the pile of new materials that had arrived during the day and started rummaging through it. It was a good steam engine, of that there was no doubt. Equally true, though, was the fact that it probably wasn’t of any use to anyone. That sort of thinking hadn’t bothered her, once upon a time. It hadn’t used to even occur to her. Now, though….

Behind her, the old man grumbled quietly to himself as he reentered his warm shop, no doubt to retire for the evening to the rooms in the rear where he ate and slept.

She, on the other hand, remained outside, where a chilly rain began to fall even as she discovered within the pile of new material a large number of pipe segments, roughly two inches thick and ten long. They looked to be made of titanium, and as she turned one over and over in her hands, she was already envisioning what she could craft from them.

“Casings. Identical casings with different mechanisms inside. Flashlight would be too easy, then a drill, fire extinguisher, switchblade knife (not really a switchblade, obviously, more like a gravity knife), a gun, maybe even a flamethrower.” Her quiet musings were nearly lost in the patter of the falling rain. Gathering up as many of the segments as she could manage, she headed off into the depths of the yard, to where her tools waited.

“Forty-three of these total; can I think of forty-three things to put in them? A CO2 cylinder would make the whole rod fly like a rocket. You could thread several of them together to make a club, or even a staff. Oxygen, with a fold-out mouthpiece to breathe through. Explosives, to make it a pipe bomb, and that’s even before you get into electronics. A radio, an MP3 player….” It was going to be a long night.

Janli was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, watching music videos on the static-filled television screen when she heard the back door push open.

“Sweetheart, are you here?”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, the girl climbed to her feet and walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah, mom. How was--?” Her mother was still half-way outside, trying to juggle several objects in her hands and still manage to pull the storm door closed behind her. She was having a tough time of it, Janli saw, because the item on top was a small cake, enclosed in a flimsy clear-plastic container. The pair of rollerblades that hung from her forearm by their knotted laces didn’t help.

The girl grinned with glee, leaping forward to help her mother, taking the cake and depositing it on the kitchen table. She had to make room for it, pushing the messy piles of bills and junk mail to one side in order to clear a space.

‘Happy twelveth Birthday, Janet’ read the cake. Seeing her momentary frown, her mother sighed.

“I’m sorry, hon. They misspelled it, and I didn’t have time for them to redo—“

Janli looked up and shook her head earnestly, smiling.

“No, that’s okay, really. So long as you know who I am, it doesn’t matter.”

Jeanine Wyatt reached out and stroked her daughter’s hair.

“How could I ever forget who you are? You’re the one who kept asking for….” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Hm. There was something you wanted for your birthday; I heard about it every day for weeks, but now I can’t seem to remember what exactly it was.” The rollerblades were swinging from their laces, apparently forgotten, taunting the girl. The mischievous look in her mother’s eyes was quite obvious, despite her best attempt at total innocence.

Janli tapped the skates.

“Um, I think it might have been something like these. Unless you got them for you?”

Jeanine looked for a moment like she was actually considering it, but then her smile broke through, and she laughed.

“No, I’d wouldn’t make it ten feet before I fell and broke something. Old ladies like me have brittle old bones, you know.” Janli opened her mouth to protest; her mother wasn’t even thirty yet, and wasn’t even close to being old. Before she could say anything, though, the rollerblades were deposited in her hands, and Jeanine’s arms were around her in a fierce hug.

“Happy birthday, my little baby girl.”

Janli closed her eyes, savoring the happy, safe feeling.

“Thanks, mom.”

When the embrace ended, her mother turned and hurried down the short hall that led to her bedroom.

“I’ve gotta get a move on, or I’ll be late.” She called over her shoulder, already unbuttoning her blouse. “Was school okay today?”

The girl shrugged, though her mother couldn’t see the gesture, and pulled a chair out from the table.

“Same stuff as usual. Anna hates me, and I don’t know why.” Propping her foot up on her knee, she started unlacing her sneaker.

“Anna’s one of the girls in your class?” Jeanine asked from the other room. “What makes you think she hates you?”

Janli shrugged again.

“I know she does. She’s mean to me, and that means pretty much everybody else is, too, ‘cause they want to get in good with her.”

And it’s not fair, Janli complained silently to herself. She’s blonde, and pretty, and rich. She has more friends than she knows what to do with; how come she picked me to dump on?

With a sigh, she finished untying her second shoe and pulled it off. Lifting the skates from the floor beside her, she examined them closely for the first time. They were nice, even the brand and model she’d asked for (which proved that her mom had been paying attention to all those hints over the last week or two), but even though an effort had been made to polish out the worst of the scuffs, it was obvious that they had seen hard use. The material of the wheels was worn on the sides, and at least one of them had a discoloration running all the way through, like it was cracked or something….

“I’m sorry, honey,” Janli’s mother said, coming to stand behind her. “They’re used; I just can’t afford new ones right now, with everything else coming due this month.”

The girl looked up to see Jeanine in her McDonald’s uniform. To help make ends meet she’d started working there five afternoons a week, on top of her full-time job at the bookstore.

“That’s okay, mom; they’re still good. Thanks again.”

Her mom smiled, squeezing her shoulder.

“You’re welcome. Just be careful. I know you’re supposed to wear a helmet, and knee pads and those wrist things—“

“No way!” Janli protested indignantly. “Do you want me to look like a dork or something?”

Her mother gave her a long-suffering look.

“No, no, I don’t want that. Just try not to get hurt, alright?”

Janli nodded agreeably.

“I’ll be careful.” Setting the skates down for the moment, she reached over and pulled the plastic cover off of her birthday cake. “You want a piece of this before you leave? ‘Cause even this has to be better for you than that greasy stuff at Mickey Dee’s.”

She meant it, too. Janli tried hard to take care of her mother. You did stuff like that, when you only had the one person around. It hadn’t seemed like something that she needed to do, back when dad was still alive. Even now, more than two years after….

No, she didn’t want to think about that; birthdays were supposed to be happy; it said so right on her cake.

Her mother, though, was heading for the door.

“I can’t, hon; I’m going to be late already.” She fumbled with her car keys as she headed outside. “You and your friends can have all you want, just save me a little, all right?” She paused just long enough to look back through the closing door. “Make sure you do your homework after you try out your skates, and whatever you do, don’t stay out after it gets dark. Love you!”

And with that she pulled the door shut. Moments later, Janli heard the car cranking, struggling for a few seconds before finally starting with a coughing rumble.

She sat there, alone, looking at the cake.

I would share it with my friends, mom. Only I don’t have any, except for you.

It would have been easy to be mad at her mother for never being around, if not for all the times Janli had seen her come home so exhausted that she couldn’t even pull her dirty clothes off before falling into bed.

So she put the cover back over the untouched cake.

I’ll wait until we can both have some together. And I’ll eat the piece with ‘Janet’ on it; that’ll teach her to be on my cake.

For now, though, she would be content to lace on her new (used) skates and go outside for awhile.

Of course, Anna had brand new, ultra high-tech skates of her own, but Janli could make up for that by trying harder. If she practiced a lot, like, two hours every day, then she would get so good that some of the other kids would forget about what Anna said about her. Her snide remarks about ‘white trash’, and the rest of it.

Yeah, that was just what she would do.

By late afternoon of the next day, Daeynn still hadn’t finished making all the rods. The first dozen or so had gone quickly, with some of them taking only a few minutes. The pair that hooked together with a retractable length of cable to form a set of nunchucks, for example, had been almost embarrassingly easy to do. If she hadn’t seen a snippet of an old Bruce Lee movie the week before she probably wouldn’t even have bothered with them….

Sometime around dawn, though, she had gotten around to putting a radio inside one of the sections of tubing, and this was where she hit the delay. It happened because thinking about the electronics that the task would require got her thinking about a previous creation, one of the rare few that she kept for herself instead of taking up front for Mr. Delray to get rid of. She went to retrieve it; a device that consisted mainly of a set of sleek headphones, with densely-packed circuitry incorporated into the band that connected the earpieces. A swept-back, heavily stylized antennae rose several inches from the left earpiece, the satin-finished alloy sculpted into a fluted design that had more to do with aesthetics than functional necessity.

Daeynn had put the headset on, pressed the tiny stud that activated it, and then spent a few minutes running through the various channels it could pick up and play for her. FM and AM, of course, but also short-wave, police and fire bands, even air-traffic control from the airport a few miles to the North. Eventually she pulled the device from her head and weighed it in her hand.

It was nice enough, and a few years ago it had even been moderately impressive. Now, though, she felt like it should be able to do more. She knew what MP3’s were, now; it was amazing how some people would sell perfectly good computers for scrap, sometimes with the hard drives still full of files. Her own computer, an overpowered brute of a machine built from those cast-off bits and pieces, was safely ensconced in her hidden home, but what if she were to put a micro drive in the headset? She only had the one, and her first thought had been to use it in one of the rod segments. Now, though….

Despite twinges of guilt, she spent the next couple of hours modifying the innards of the headset. It was a drastic change from the large-scale work she’d been doing the previous day, building the steam engine. This was exacting, nearly microscopic in nature, and the challenge of redesigning the circuit architecture for the device led to something very like contentment… for a while. Later, when she’d finished it and was listening to selections from her huge library of illegally-downloaded Metallica tunes, her usual feeling of detachment returned.

Segment number thirty-five; a taser, check, done. Number thirty-six will be... a hydraulic jack. I can have a folding handle that lays in here; use that to pump it. Then mount the fluid reservoir and the piston inside like this—

Abruptly she dropped the section of metal pipe, the sharp ringing of metal on metal as it fell among her tools nearly inaudible over the heavy metal music that alternately shrieked and rumbled through her headphones.

What am I doing this for? What possible use will these things be to anyone? Propping her hands on the slab of slightly rusting iron that was her worktable, she hunched her shoulders and stared off across the junkyard. The lowering sun was in her eyes, but that didn’t bother her as much as her own dissatisfaction. I know, the easy answer is ‘I do this because this is what I do’. It’s just…. That can’t be all there is to me, can it? Just this, only this, for no other reason, on and on and on? In the far distance, beyond mostly undeveloped stretches of land, there were trees visible. Houses, too, and a cluster of buildings that seemed to include both gas stations and fast-food places. The trees, though, were what held her attention.

I wonder what they think about this kind of thing? Some of them are probably older than I am, probably a lot older. Do they ever feel like this? Or is it different, for them?

It wasn’t very likely that she would ever know the answer to that, things being how they were.

With a sigh she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans and wandered towards the front of the yard. It was early yet, not even close to sundown, but she wanted to see if there was anything new up there for her to use. The jack segment would be easy enough, just basic mechanical engineering, actually. She was hoping to find some usable lengths of fiber optic cable for the next one, though, maybe in a recent-model vcr or stereo. She could spin her own by hand if she really had to, though that was something she considered only as a last resort. Getting the proper purity from the glass she had available would be a bitch-and-a-half, and there was no doubt about that….

It was not Janli’s fault that she’d fallen down and hurt herself.

Really.

She winced as her bare foot came down on an especially sharp rock, then resolutely hobbled onwards. She was walking alongside the road, heading back towards home with her new (used) rollerblades draped over one shoulder. The wheel she’d noticed earlier, the one with the faint discoloration running through it; it had decided to split apart at a really inconvenient time. She’d skated nearly a mile from her house, heading for the mall where all the other local skaters congregated. Janli knew her mother wouldn’t approve of her going so far, it was just that there was nowhere else close by with the right sorts of curbs and ramps to pull tricks off of; if she was going to be great, she had to practice like she meant it.

Of course, she’d gotten almost all the way there before the wheel had given way. Just the one would have been bad enough; it would have meant she couldn’t do much of anything on them until she bought a replacement wheel, but at least she could have gotten home all right. Unfortunately, when the first one went the added stress had half-torn the next wheel off it’s mountings too, which left only the frontmost two. Janli had taken a nasty spill, fortunately tumbling away from traffic, not into the street but off into the weeds alongside it. She’d ended up with scraped knees, an aching wrist, and one thoroughly non-functional skate.

It hadn’t occurred to her to bring her sneakers along, and it would have been torturous (and stupid-looking) to try and walk while wearing the ‘blades. So there was nothing left to do except turn around and trudge back the way she’d come… barefoot. Her knees hurt where grit had been ground into her flesh, and her wrist was really sore even if it wasn’t broken. The worst part was thinking about how her mother would feel about the whole thing.

She’ll think it was her fault, Janli thought unhappily. She was already a little upset that she couldn’t buy me a set of brand new ones; when she sees my bloody knees, and the messed-up wheels, she’ll really feel bad. The westerning sun threw her shadow ahead of her as cars whipped past off to the side; still a long, long way to go, and her feet were complaining with every step. By the time she got home, they might well be bloody too. It’s not her fault. I’m the one who kept pestering her about buying them for me; I should have asked for something smaller. Or at least told her that a used pair would be okay, but that I should go with her to pick out a good pair.

Ahead of her was the intersection where she would turn off of this street. After that it was pretty much a straight shot home, even if it was still nearly half a mile away. Thinking about how far it was, and the inevitable situation when her mother got home tonight was almost enough to make her sit down and start crying right there beside the road.

She didn’t, though; she wasn’t a little girl, anymore, twelve years old was practically a teenager, and teenagers were grown-ups. So she kept going.

Sitting on this side of the intersection was Delray’s Antique World. The ‘Antique World’ part of the sign was of much newer paint than the rest of it. Underneath, still faintly visible, were the words ‘Auto Scrapyard’. Janli had never been closer to the place than the street, though she had gone past it hundreds of times, always faintly intrigued by the bizarre objects the old man sold. As she came even with the shop now, she saw that Mr. Delray himself was sitting out in front, in his favorite chair. He’d been there when she had skated past earlier, and now she felt her face flush with humiliation as he watched her hobble past. She quickly looked away, trying to pretend he wasn’t there, wasn’t looking at her. Predictably, it didn’t work.

“Hey! How come you walkin’, girl? Something happen to your wheelie shoes?”

Ignoring him would be rude, so she looked over and nodded as she limped on.

“Yeah. Wheels came off.”

She’d thought that would be the end of the exchange, but the old man sat up in his chair.

“That so?” A gesture of his hand beckoned her closer. “Here, now; bring those over and lemme see.”

She hesitated for only a moment before heading over to show him. He was said to be a cranky character, gruff and loud though nice enough in his own way. She wasn’t afraid of him trying to abduct her or anything; she might be just a girl but even with her hurt feet she was certain she could outrun him if grabbed at her. Besides, a young married couple were right there, looking at the various pieces of sculpture, or machines, or whatever the heck they were. She made it over to where Mr. Delray sat, and the elderly black man held out a hand for the skates. Janli slipped them off her shoulder and passed them over, wishing that there was another chair handy for her to sit in and rest her aching feet. As he hmmed to himself over the damaged wheels, the girl watched the man and woman whisper together while running covetous hands across a chrome and iron coffee table. The lifeless metals had been formed into a shape that somehow managed to look organic; almost like they had grown into their present form. It was undoubtedly beautiful; surprisingly so, really, for something sitting in a place like this.

She watched them for a few moments, wondering if they would really pay the five hundred dollars that the sign on the table listed as its price. Just beyond the couple…. Janli gave a little start.

Where did she come from?

Over there, just beyond where the man and woman’s car was parked, was an assortment of scrap and junk that had apparently been dumped there in preparation for being hauled into the scrapyard itself. Rooting through it was… well, she wasn’t sure what it was, exactly.

That’s either a very small woman, or somebody’s kid dressed up like a car mechanic.

The figure was short; seriously short, lacking even Janli’s moderate height, and thin of build, too. Her hair was bright as copper, shaggy and uneven around her face and with the rest pulled back in a ponytail that spilled in a thick, straight fall all the way to her waist. She wore a black tee shirt, faded, grease-stained jeans, and heavy workboots that were so big and clunky that they looked almost comical on such a small person.

It was hard to believe that somebody that unusual-looking could have been standing right in her line of sight and not be noticed until now. Janli blinked, and the girl (woman?) was gone; just like that, vanished.

What the--?

She blinked again, and squinted.

No, there she is, right where she was before. How come I couldn’t see—

“Well, girl. I don’t reckon I can do much for you. Iffin’ this here wheel had just come loose, well then, we might have been able to…. Hey, now; what’re you lookin’ at?”

Janli glanced over at him.

“That girl; or, woman, over there. Does she work for you?”

The old man gave her a peculiar look, like she’d suddenly started speaking Japanese or something.

“You mean to tell me that you can see her?”

She nodded slowly, unsure of why he would even ask her something like that.

“Sure I can,” Janli answered, turning her head back and looking back to where the woman (girl?) was standing. Or had been standing, she couldn’t see her anywhere, now—wait, there she was, still sorting through the material in the same pile as before. Janli frowned. “Well, I can, sort of. There’s something weird going on with the light, or something.”

Yeah, that must be it; the sun’s in my eyes. Only, it’s more like every time I look at her my eyes just want to slide off of her. It’s hard to focus on her, for some reason.

The figure across the way seemed to sense the girl’s gaze. She straightened slowly, then turned her head.

Despite all she could do, Janli gasped.

It wasn’t that the person was ugly, exactly. It was more like, well, she was just weird-looking. Her cheekbones were very pronounced, contrasted to a nose that was so small that it was barely an afterthought. Likewise her chin was tiny, lending her face the same shape as an inverted triangle. Gleaming eerily through wayward locks of copper hair, her eyes were some extremely pale color, and large enough that even at this distance their gaze was disconcerting. Janli’s own eyes ached suddenly, and she had the distinct impression that if she glanced away for even a moment, she would never be able to locate the person again no matter how hard she looked.

Beside her, the old man grunted.

“Still see her?” He asked.

Janli didn’t look away, she refused to do so much as blink.

“Yeah, I still see her.”

After several long moments, the other suddenly looked away, going back to her rummaging as if that little staring contest had never taken place. Janli had seen cats do the same kind of thing; ignoring an event they didn’t like so completely that it might well never have happened at all. Mr. Delray was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, well; if that ain’t just a wonder.”

It felt safe to look away from the mysterious person now, so Janli shot him an inquiring look. The old man, though, just stood up and called out in a surprisingly powerful voice.

“Hey! Devil-girl!”

The couple looking at the table jumped a little at the unexpected shout, giving the old man worried stares, like they were wondering about his sanity. The odd-looking girl seemed to not hear him at all, but before he could shout again she looked their way. He made a ‘come here’ gesture with one hand before sitting back down in his chair. The girl (devil-girl?) heaved a long-suffering sigh that made Janli momentarily certain that she was a child, then walked towards them.

Along the way she brushed past the still confused-looking couple, and even though she passed within arm’s reach of the pair, in plain sight, Janli would have bet anything that they never even noticed her.

As she approached, details became easier to make out. Unlike most red-heads, she was tanned; an odd, light shade of bronze that was almost like a paler version of her hair. What had at first glance looked like a single horn-like projection angling back from one side of her head was in fact the antenna mounted on a pair of radio headphones. When she reached the pair the girl put a hand up and pulled them off of her head, revealing a set of very normal ears. They each held multiple piercings, four or five small rings that looked like plain, silvery steel were spaced along their rims. Still, the tips were nice and rounded.

Janli was relieved to see that; with everything else she was almost expecting points.

Because she really does look sort of like an elf. Or maybe a hobbit, since she’s so small.

Barely four feet, or so she guessed, even given the massive boots she was wearing. This was no child, either. Now that they were face to face, it was very obviously an adult she was looking at, though it was impossible to tell how old the woman actually was. There were no lines or wrinkles on that odd face; her oddly-tinted skin was perfectly smooth. Even so, she didn’t feel like a young person….

“Well? What do you want now?”

Her voice was low but still very obviously female; a contralto that might have been pleasant if it weren’t rough from disuse. She glared at the old man, studiously ignoring Janli. Mr. Delray seemed unimpressed.

“Here; make yourself useful for once.” He held out the rollerblades. “The young lady’s had an accident. How about you fix up her skates for her?”

The small woman made no move to accept the rollerblades from him.

“I’m busy. Fix them yourself if you’re feeling so helpful.”

His wrinkled face grew even more sour-looking than usual as he glowered.

“Quit yer complainin’ and just do as I say!”

The woman grew very still at that, and Janli took an involuntary step back at the look in her eyes.

“Be careful,” She growled softly. “We’ve known each other a long time, old man, but you don’t have it in you to command me. You never did.”

Mr. Delray licked his lips, suddenly looking a bit nervous.

“Well, now, I meant no harm, you know that.” He nodded towards Janli. “This nice girl is just in bit of trouble, here, and I thought you could help. She noticed you fiddlin’ about over there, you know,” He added, as if that were something worthy of mention. The woman held his gaze for a moment longer, then turned and looked directly at Janli.

Meeting those eyes at such close range was like a physical impact; the irises were light grey, almost silvery, and just a shade or two from matching the whites of her eyes. What resulted was the most alien, disturbing stare she had ever received from a human being.

Janli cleared her throat.

“Um, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to mess with them if you’re busy,” She said, feeling uncertain of just what was happening. Who worked for who, here?

The woman looked back to the old man, and held out her hand. Looking more assured, and somewhat pleased with himself for getting his way after all, he gave her the rollerblades. Without a word she turned away and stalked off towards the gate into the junkyard. Feeling a bit lost, Janli looked at him. He smiled at her, waving her to follow after.

“Go on, girl; don’t worry, she won’t bite.”

Despite his urgings, she was worried.

“Well, I mean, it’s going to be dark, soon.” She didn’t want to badmouth his employee, or boss, or whatever the woman was, it was just…. “Maybe I should come back tomorrow, after she’s had time to work on them?” That way she wouldn’t be alone with either of them, especially the spooky little woman, in a dark, deserted junkyard. The old man, though, waved her on again.

“You just follow her, girl. She’ll have those skates fixed in a jiffy; quicker than you’d believe you’ll be on your way.” He was grinning, like there was some private joke he wasn’t sharing.

Still uncertain about the wisdom of what she was doing, Janli started after the woman, who was already some distance into the scrapyard area. Behind her, she could hear the couple begin to bargain with him about the price of the table.