Page 59 of The Salt-Black Tree
Go figure.“My mother?” Nat had to ask. “And my… Leo? My father?”
Baba had already told her they were both gone, of course.Your mother and her consort.The soft inner sense of certainty returned the same answer.
Still, Nat couldn’t quite believe it. What child could; what child ever does? The parent is the first Eternal mortals ever brush.
“On to whatever awaits.” The other divinity bent nearly double, studying the shelf as if to compare prices. Maybe she was just being polite. “But you knew that.”
“So there’s something else? After you?” Standing in a 7-Eleven inquiring about the afterlife was probably something every divinity did as a matter of course. Maybe she’d even get used to it, after a while.
“That would be telling.” The Cold Lady’s smile didn’t alter. It was, all things considered, rather gentle. “Your season’s approaching. Winter never lasts.”
Neither does anything else.“I’m getting used to cryptic conversations and weird occurrences.” Nat glanced, almost guiltily, at the counter, but the mortal ignored them both, probably in self-defense. A cluster of broken veins showed on his nose, and he coughed slightly into a cupped, hairy fist.
“Mortal lives are just as weird, dearest.” The other woman finally selected a medium-sized pack of Cool Ranch, bright plastic crinkle-cringing under her touch. “Fish don’t really think about water.”
“Yeah.” Nat couldn’t decide what she wanted. There was no nausea, no emptiness—the tree had done its job, and she might not ever feel hungry or thirsty again. How long would it be before even cravings vanished—was food just window dressing now? “Pretty sure I’ll see you again soon. Someone wants to kill me.”And he’s late. Three days was the agreement.
Dmitri could find her if he wanted to. What was he waiting for?
“Is that my only reason for visiting? It seems a pity.” The Cold Lady dangled the blue bag from one slim greenish-ivory hand and straightened, regarding Spring with bright, benign interest.
“Yeah, well.” Nat’s gaze happened on a red cylinder. She discovered she liked the thought of Pringles after all; she took the one standing just on the brink of the shelf, automatically moving its replacement soldier forward to the jump-off point. It made things easier on the stockers. “Do we ever change? Divinities, I mean.”
The Cold Lady threw her head back and laughed, a merry ice-tinkle. Behind the counter the clerk shivered again as he turned a magazine page, but he didn’t look up. Maybe he thought a goose had walked over his grave, or something.
Maybe one had, sinceshewas here.
“Oh, Drozdova.” The lady wiped at her eyes with the fingertips of her free hand. “What do you think Iam? Or you, for that matter? Come on, let’s get you something to drink, those are full of sodium. You want lemonade? Sodapop?” A good-natured grin fanned wrinkles at the corners of her dark depthless eyes; she didn’t have dimples, but it was close. “Vodka?”
Booze sounded good, but Nat was driving. Did divinities get DUIs—did Friendly hand them out? It was the kind of question Dima might have answered. “Yoo-hoo sounds good. Haven’t had it since I was a kid.”
“Two Yoo-hoos it is.” The Cold Lady brushed past, heading for the glass beverage cases in back. “Nice car, by the way.”
“It was a present.” The Léon-Bollée might be rotting in the yellow house’s falling-apart garage. It was painful to think about; Leo had worked on it so much. All that effort wasted. “Can I ask you something?”
“I’m here, you might as well.” The other woman found what she wanted, opening the case and leaning into a burst of refrigeration. Did it feel warm, to her?
“Do you have a mother?”
“I have all the mothers, Drozdova.” The skinny, barefoot woman turned somber, selecting two plastic bottles. It was a wonder they didn’t shatter in her icy hand. “And all the fathers. Daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins—you name it.”
In other words, that’s a silly question. Or maybe you weren’t born, but somehow made. Coalesced.Were there different Cold Ladies on different continents? Nat’s own feet, resting on indifferently mopped linoleum, weren’t chilled at all. She could probably run over broken glass and not feel a single scratch, though she wasn’t about to test that theory yet. “I just wondered.”
“I like questions. Shows you’ve got an open mind.” Two familiar plastic bottles of oversweetened chocolate milk in her strong left hand, the bag of chips in her right, she let the cold-case doorswing shut with a sharp, definite sound. “I think you’ll be curious for a very long time. Let’s get these paid for.”
We’re not going to shoplift?“Funny.” Nat’s cheeks felt strange; she was smiling as well. Divine or not, at a certain point you just had to throw up your hands and go with the absurdity of survival. “I used to think money was the hardest thing in the world.”
“For some it is. We’ve got other problems.” The other divinity paused. “But I’ve got a minute or two more. We can stop in the candy aisle, if you want? The little pleasures really count, and I suspect you won’t want to stop again until you get home.”
“Yeah.” Nat followed. “What kind of candy do you like?”
“I don’t discriminate.” The Cold Lady laughed again, a soft numbing chuckle. “But right now I think we could both use some chocolate.”
Winter dusk swallowed Baby’s steady motion; Nat kept her speed just above mortal, flickering through ice-cautious traffic as if she’d been doing it all her life. The Pringles didn’t last past Chester, but she saved the Yoo-hoo. Cities clustered thicker on this coast than amid the west’s wide sprawl; Richmond came and went, and the tingle in the air around DC told her more than one divinity was aware of her passage.
The ferment of mortal power probably made divinities bubble up, active as a sourdough starter. Mom had taught Nat how to keep one alive for loaves of tangy, chewy white, but she preferred proper black bread. It really was the only thing for soup.
Were there still servings of Leo’s borscht frozen in margarine tubs, hiding in the ancient Frigidaire? Those would last as long as winter did, no matter what else fell down or rotted in the little yellow house. The entire city was probably a giant freezer.
