Free Beyond the Pale: A fantasy anthology by Nancy Holder, Kami García, Saladin Ahmed, Jim Butcher, Jane Yolen, Heather Brewer, Rachel Caine, Gillian Philip, Peter Beagle

wind before settling gently on the grass
and in the street. High in the sky, tucked half way behind a gray cloud, was a
white hot sun. The scene should have been serene, should have settled any upset
in Alek’s nerves, and calmed the churning of his stomach. But it didn’t. The
quiet simply added to his stress, though he couldn’t exactly point to what was
stressing him out or why.
    At the end of the street stood a large
Victorian house, with three floors and a high peaked, round tower that loomed
above the rest of the surrounding homes. The house was painted a charcoal gray.
The front porch was wide and inviting, and a mat sat in front of the stark
white door which read “welcome all”. Under each window was a charming flower
box, and planted inside were small blooms that seemed cheerful, despite their
lack of color. Its shutters were carved with amazing detail—storybook
images on each piece—and painted stark black. Alek’s favorite image was
carved on the shutters that surrounding the window nearest the front door. One
side featured a house made of candy, with two children skipping merrily up to
the door. The other showed a woman peering out of the home’s window, grinning
menacingly. The image had always appealed to Alek, but today, it felt sinister.
He tore his gaze away from it and rapped on the front door, ready to receive
his Gift. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe he was just being stupid about the whole
thing.
    Besides, the last two Gifts he’d received
had turned out even better than expected. So what was he so worried about?
    A sing-songy voice called from within, “Be
right there!”
    Alek’s heart skipped a beat, but he willed
it to steady its rhythm, and cast Sara a reassuring glance—not that she
was the one who needed any reassuring. He hoped it reassured her, at least. But
he was pretty sure she knew he was full of crap. He was scared, and they both
knew it. They just didn’t know why.
    The door opened in, and Jordan poked her
head out, all smiles. Her brown eyes were bright and dazzling amidst all of the
gray. She wore a floral apron around her waist, over her tasteful dress. Her
curly hair was held neatly back from her face with a floral scarf. On any
normal day, Alek really liked coming to visit Jordan. She had a motherly
quality to everything she said, everything she did. It was comforting. It was
nice. But today, it wasn’t helping. “Come on in, Alek. Sara, you can wait on
the porch swing. I left you some lemonade and cookies to munch on, but this
shouldn’t take long.”
    Sara gave Alek’s shoulder a comforting
squeeze and turned on her heel toward the porch swing. He watched the bounce in
her step for a moment before turning back to Jordan and forcing a smile. She
held the door open for him and he stepped inside. The table just inside the
front door held its usual platter of fresh-baked cookies. As he grabbed a gooey
snicker doodle, Jordan closed the front door behind them and said, “Are you
excited about your Gift, Alek?”
    He really wished people would stop asking
him that. He bit into the cookie, which wasn’t as sweet as he’d wanted it to
be. The cookie he’d had last year had definitely been sweeter. But then, last
year he hadn’t been nervous at all. He chewed and swallowed, and the bite went
down hard. Suddenly, he wished he had some lemonade to wash it down with. “To
be honest… not really. I’ve felt a bit… off all day. Is that weird?”
    “Hmmm.” That’s all she said. Just a
thoughtful noise. Not even a word, really. It did little to settle Alek’s
nerves. She tilted her head, looking him over for a moment, before gesturing to
the parlor door behind him.
    Alek nodded and sat his unfinished cookie
on the table before turning to the parlor. The door to the parlor wasn’t really
a door at all, but an archway. Grand black velvet drapes separated the space
from the foyer, held back by large silver tassels. As he moved inside, a medley
of herby smells wafted over