Betwixt Issue 7

By Betwixt Magazine

Betwixt is a quarterly magazine of eclectic speculative fiction. The ebook edition of issue 7 collects all four stories originally published online. Issue 7 includes the following stories:

“Blueberry Knight” by Jennifer Hykes
“The Creature That Came In and Ate All Our Food, and Emptied Our Wallets, and Stole All Our Hearts” by Trevor Shikaze
“At Her Fingertips” by Jason Kimble
“Frenemies” by Peri Fae Blomquist

• Language: English
• Publisher: Betwixt Magazine
• Release date: Mar 31, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310490101

Betwixt Magazine

Betwixt is a quarterly magazine of eclectic speculative fiction.

Book preview

Betwixt

Issue 7 • Spring 2015

Betwixt • Issue 7 • Spring 2015

Edited by Joy Crelin

Cover art: The Woods by Boudewijn Berends

Used under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC by 2.0) license

For more information, please visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Image edits by Leland Spencer

Stories and art copyright © their respective creators

All other content copyright © Betwixt 2015

Smashwords Edition

www.betwixtmagazine.com

Contents

Editor’s Note

Blueberry Knight by Jennifer Hykes

The Creature That Came In and Ate All Our Food, and Emptied Our Wallets, and Stole All Our Hearts by Trevor Shikaze

At Her Fingertips by Jason Kimble

Frenemies by Peri Fae Blomquist

Contributors

About Betwixt

Editor’s Note

Spring has sprung! So they say, at least, though the piles of snow on every corner near Betwixt HQ tell a different story. Whether you’re facing spring flowers or the last dregs of winter (or different seasons altogether, in the case of our Southern Hemisphere readers!), I hope you enjoy the spring 2015 issue of Betwixt. Issue 7 features original fiction by Peri Fae Blomquist, Jennifer Hykes, Jason Kimble, and Trevor Shikaze—just the thing to melt the ice encasing both sidewalks and hearts.

Joy Crelin

Salem, MA

April 2015

Blueberry Knight

Jennifer Hykes

My brother Elliot was a murder of crows. Mom didn’t know yet; it was our big-brother/little-sister secret. Like the time he took me to see Night of the Worm People even though it was rated R, only not as fun and the nightmares didn’t go away after a few days.

Still, he took it well (he was cool like that), and sometimes he even joked about it, as if fitting his human skin over the mass of wings and black-feathered bodies and sharp blue-smoke beaks was no big deal. I knew he was joking for my sake.

The skin was my gift. I bought it from a witch at the edge of the Dark Lands, in exchange for the memories of my last five birthdays. It was the least I could do, since Elliot had lost his body to save me in the first place.

The skin worked well enough to fool the whole world. I was the only one, it seemed, who saw those moments when it twitched at the sudden flurry of buried wings, or when his eyes opened and a cluster of black beads peered out.

We shared a lot of secrets like that. We looked out for each other. Which was why I went back to the Dark Lands, and why I didn’t tell him.

On the day before his birthday, I packed my book bag and left for school at the usual time. As soon as my house was out of sight, I slipped off the sidewalk and down into the woods, circling around to the old and twisted oak that marked the entrance. It was pretty hard to miss: its thick branches hung nearly to the ground, stark and leafless, and its bark was almost black. It was a tree that had died a long time ago but refused to fall over or rot completely away. A zombie tree. I circled it once and was through.

It’s easy to tell the difference the moment you slip over to the other side. The air gets chilly and all the trees around you start looking like that zombie oak, and nettles and undergrowth carpet the woods, a deep rich green the color of dark emeralds. There’s always a path, too, because the people of the Dark Lands are all about paths and whether you stick to them or not.

Professional Tip: sticking to the path won’t keep you safe, but it will keep you marginally safer. Never confuse the two. All it really means is that anything trying to kill you or steal your eyes or whatever has to give you a fighting chance. Leave the path, and all bets are off.

So I stuck to the path, picked a direction and walked, figuring I’d run into something sooner or later. I hadn’t gone far when I saw a man (an elf? A fae? I was never a hundred percent sure on the terminology here) standing on the path, tugging on the leash of a shaggy dog about the size of a large pony. He was tall and sapling-thin, with a floppy green hat the same dark emerald color as the forest floor. A ridiculously large feather bobbed from its brim as he heaved against the dog, who had dug its paws into the soil and refused to budge. He snarled and swore at the poor thing, and the dog whined and shook its furry head.

Excuse me, I said, as politely as I could. Is there a problem I could help with?

Another Professional Tip: if you see something going down on the path, always interfere (unless you’ve been told not to).

The elf man stopped tugging, but he didn’t loosen his grip on the leash. He stood up straight, tipped his hat to me, and smiled. The smile slid across his face like butter across a hot griddle. He wasn’t bad looking; in fact, he was one of the prettier beings I’d seen here, and he smelled nice, like a flowery shampoo my mom uses. But his nose was sharp as an icicle, and his eyes were just as cold.

Good evening, miss . . . ? he said, leaving me to supply my name.

I am the Blueberry Knight, I said, since people didn’t give out their real names here, just titles. I was wearing a hoodie with a trio of smiling blueberries over my heart, in that kawaii Japanese style that you find in import stores. Beneath them were the words Happy Day. Not the most impressive coat for a knight, but it was a coat nonetheless and the smiling blueberries cheered me up.

I think it must’ve been a birthday present, because I don’t remember when I got it.

The elf man’s smile didn’t waver, though his eyes flicked to the blueberries and then to my face. I could tell that he’d been hoping I’d slip up and give my real name, and then he’d have me. But I learned a few tricks the last time I was in the Dark Lands, after I’d been suckered in here and spirited away in a flouncy black dress to be the bride of the Prince of Thorns. I wasn’t going to be fooled again.

Charmed, he said, bowing like a reed in a stiff breeze. You may call me Hans.

Hans was a generic name, like Jack. It could mean anything. At minimum, it meant he was more dangerous than he looked.

And what business brings you to these lands, Blueberry Knight? he went on.

I threw back my chin and adopted what I hoped was a brave pose. I am here to restore my brother, Crowsbody, to his rightful form.

Hans chuckled softly. A valiant wish, to be sure!

And where are you going, Hans? I asked. Your dog doesn’t seem too eager to go with you.

He scowled at the dog and gave it another sharp tug—not even to try to budge it, but just to hurt it. My stomach clenched. I am taking this cur here to market to be sold, he said. She is no longer worth the trouble. Perhaps I can get something for her meat.

I glanced at the dog, who peered out at me with one frightened eye from beneath long bangs of gray fur. What else could I do? How much are you looking to sell her for?

Hans’s eyes shot toward mine. There was that sly, buttery grin. I won’t take any less than three magic beans for her, he said. "If you