You Can’t Fall from Hell

The fairies stopped at the edge of the canopy.

Not one step inside.

Not Josephine.

Not the dozens clustered among the blue trees.

Not even the brave ones.

They crowded together at the forest's edge, peering through hanging willow branches like children watching a storm from a porch.

Tess noticed immediately.

Nobody else seemed to.

Grant certainly didn't.

Grant was too busy staring at Josephine.

Again.

Tess folded her arms.

The fairy sat on a low branch just beyond the canopy, swinging her feet back and forth.

Watching Grant.

Grant watching her.

Neither speaking.

Neither looking away.

Tess rolled her eyes.

The whole thing felt ridiculous.

And yet...

The fairy wasn't watching anyone else.

Not Clint.

Not Blaine.

Not Sloane.

Just Grant.

That bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

A soft tapping sound pulled her attention away.

Simon stood beneath the Weeping Willow.

One hand resting atop a hickory walking stick.

The tree's tears dripped around him.

He didn't seem to notice.

Or care.

The old man wasn't what Tess had expected.

She had imagined something larger.

Something grander.

Something terrifying.

Instead he looked...

Ordinary.

Which somehow made him worse. Her grandaddy used to say, “Everyone’s afraid of the boogeyman, but it’s the IRS agent that picks your pocket.”

Simon wasn't looking at the group.

Not exactly.

He was studying them.

The way a person studies horses before an auction.

Evaluating.

Measuring.

Sorting.

The realization made Tess uncomfortable.

Beside her, Blaine wandered toward the trunk.

"Guys."

Nobody answered.

"Guys."

Still nothing.

Tess glanced over.

Blaine had his hand on the bark.

"Guys, this smells kind of good."

Simon smiled.

The smile was small.

Barely noticeable.

But Tess saw it.

That bothered her too.

Blaine scratched a loose strip from the trunk.

Held it up.

Examined it.

"You think people can eat this?"

Tess opened her mouth.

Before she could answer—

"DON'T EAT THE BARK!"

The voice cracked across the clearing like a rifle shot.

Everyone jumped.

Blaine nearly dropped it.

The fairies scattered further into the forest.

Josephine vanished.

Grant spun around.

Tess looked toward the sound.

A man emerged along the path as the first rays of dawn spread across the treetops.

He pulled an old wooden wagon behind him.

Two large barrels sat inside the wagon.

Water swirled close to the edges with every bump.

The man looked exhausted.

Dark hair cropped short.

Weathered face.

Heavy boots.

Even from a distance Tess could see both arms were covered in tattoos.

One arm was covered in images that looked almost holy.

Angels.

Clouds.

Gates.

Light.

The other arm...

Not so much.

Fire.

Horns.

Chains.

Faces screaming from smoke.

The wagon creaked to a stop.

The man pointed directly at Blaine.

"Drop it."

Blaine immediately dropped the bark.

The stranger nodded.

"Good."

Silence.

Then: "You'd be surprised how many people don't."

Without another word, the man continued toward the Willow.

Ignoring all of them completely.

Tess watched him pass.

Something interesting happened.

Simon stepped aside.

Not much.

Just enough.

But he stepped aside.

And suddenly Tess understood something.

This man wasn't afraid of Simon.

And Simon wasn't ignoring him.

The two facts together made her pay very close attention.

The stranger stopped beside the Willow.

Beside the tears.

Then gently placed a hand against the trunk.

The enormous tree shivered.

Not from fear.

Recognition.

Like an old dog hearing its owner's voice.

The stranger smiled.

For the first time since arriving, he looked genuinely happy.

"Like roots in soil," he said softly.

His hand remained on the bark.

"My thoughts return to you."

The Willow's branches swayed.

A low rustling filled the clearing.

The sound felt like an answer.

Tess glanced at Simon.

Simon wasn't smiling anymore.

He was listening.

Which somehow seemed more important.

The stranger nodded once.

"As always."

Then he turned toward the distant field of golden flowers.

The field occupied the other side of the Weeping Willow, opposite the Forest.

The blue trees and golden flowers faced each other like opposing armies, the Willow standing between them like a peace offering in no-man’s-land.

Beyond it, an ocean of golden flowers stretched across the rolling hills.

Every bloom seemed to glow from within.

Not brightly.

Not enough to hurt the eyes.

Just enough to pierce an unrepentant soul.

Or a repentant one.

Tess wasn't sure which.

The man with the wagon walked directly into the flowers.

No hesitation.

No caution.

As though he had done it a thousand times before.

Maybe he had.

The flowers brushed against his boots.

Against his legs.

Against the tattoos winding around his arms.

Nothing happened.

At least nothing obvious.

He stopped several yards into the field.

Knelt.

And reached down with his left hand.

Only his left hand.

Tess wondered if the others noticed.

Grant’s attention remained fixed on Josephine. She had returned to her previous branch, her feet swinging like a child enjoying a day at the park.

Blaine was staring at the bark he'd dropped.

Sloane was focused on finding something in her pockets.

Clint was focused on Sloane.

But Tess noticed.

The man never used his right hand.

Not once.

His left hand moved through the blossoms carefully.

Almost respectfully.

Gathering handful after handful.

Golden petals.

Golden stems.

Golden leaves.

The flowers seemed to welcome him.

As strange as that sounded.

Then he pulled one free.

Another.

Another.

And immediately new flowers emerged in their place.

Growing before Tess's eyes.

Seconds.

Not days.

Not weeks.

Seconds.

"What the hell..."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

The man glanced over his shoulder.

Not annoyed.

Not surprised.

Simply acknowledging she'd spoken.

Then he returned to his work.

The wagon slowly filled with flowers.

When he was satisfied, he rose.

Lifted a wooden stirring paddle.

And began mixing the flowers into the water.

The petals dissolved immediately.

Turning the water liquid gold.

The sight mesmerized everyone.

Except for Simon.

The stranger rolled the wagon back toward the Willow.

The golden water shimmered with every movement. Not one drop spilled as the wagon rolled over the uneven ground.

When he reached the tree, he removed the first barrel. His muscles straining beneath its weight.

He carried it to the roots and poured.

Golden water flooded the earth beneath the trunk.

The Willow shivered.

Its enormous branches swaying overhead.

The tears continued falling.

But something changed.

The sound.

The movement.

The feeling.

The tree seemed...

Relieved.

The stranger poured the second barrel.

Then rested his left hand against the bark.

"Wind and Willow."

The branches lowered slightly.

"As always."

The tears slowed.

Just a little.

"May those tears run golden once more."

The Willow rustled softly.

The sound felt almost affectionate.

Tess stared.

The tree liked him.

There was no other way to describe it.

The tree liked him.

And somehow that was stranger than anything else she'd seen all day.

The man stepped back.

Brushed his hands together.

Then, for the first time since arriving, he actually looked at them.

His gaze moved across Clint.

Sloane.

Blaine.

Grant.

Then landed briefly on Tess.

Not lingering.

Not evaluating.

Simply noting.

The way a rancher might count heads of cattle. Then he sighed.

"So."

Nobody answered.

The stranger nodded.

"So you're the ones the fairies are in a tizzy over."

Simon smiled.

"They are the ones."

The stranger ignored him completely.

His attention remained on the group.

Specifically on Blaine.

"You're lucky."

Blaine frowned.

"Why?"

The stranger pointed toward the bark.

"Because you listened."

Silence.

Blaine glanced toward the trunk.

Then back.

"What happens if you eat it?"

The stranger's expression didn't change.

Which somehow made the answer worse.

"You become useful."

Nobody liked that answer.

Especially Tess.

The stranger looked toward Simon.

And for the first time his expression hardened.

Just slightly.

Not anger.

Weariness.

The kind that came from having the same conversation too many times.

"Leave them alone."

Simon leaned on his hickory walking stick.

"I haven't touched them."

The stranger laughed.

A short humorless sound.

"Yet."

The Willow rustled overhead.

As if it had heard this exchange before.

Perhaps it had.

Simon smiled.

"You always assume the worst."

"Because you keep rewarding the assumption."

Grant laughed despite himself.

The stranger looked at him.

Then shook his head.

"No."

His gaze shifted back to Simon.

"You don't get to charm your way through this one."

Simon placed a hand over his heart.

Mock wounded.

The gesture earned an eye roll from the stranger.

Tess watched the entire exchange carefully.

Neither man raised his voice.

Neither seemed afraid.

But there was something here.

History.

Equality.

Or close enough to one.

And suddenly Tess found herself paying very close attention.

If Grant had a fairy.

Fine.

Tess had found something better.

Someone who walked between worlds.

Someone the Willow trusted.

Someone Simon listened to.

Maybe even more powerful.

The thought made her smile.

The stranger noticed.

That bothered her immediately.

He didn't smile back.

If anything, he looked disappointed.

Then he sighed.

And turned back toward Simon.

"What do you want?"

The smile vanished from Simon's face.

Gone instantly.

As though it had never been there.

"I need a guide."

The stranger closed his eyes as though he already knew where this was going.

"No."

"Limbo—"

"No."

The name caught Tess's attention.

Limbo.

Somehow it fit.

Simon sighed.

"You haven't even heard the destination."

"I don't need to."

The Willow rustled.

The branches swayed.

Almost nervously.

Simon tapped his walking stick against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

Then:

"They want to leave."

Silence.

Limbo's jaw tightened.

For the first time all morning, he looked toward the group.

Really looked.

Grant.

Tess.

Blaine.

Clint.

Sloane.

“Children in adult bodies. Too old to play games. Too young to know why.”

His expression softened.

Only a little.

Then he looked back at Simon.

"No."

Simon smiled again.

A small one this time.

Dangerous.

Patient.

The smile of a man who already knew how the conversation ended.

The Willow groaned softly overhead.

And Tess suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that it knew too.

The clearing fell silent.

Only the sound of the Willow's tears remained.

One golden drip after another.

Drip.

Gold.

Drip.

Limbo stood with his arms crossed.

Simon leaned against his walking stick.

Neither seemed interested in moving.

Tess had the strange feeling they could stand like that for hours.

Maybe days.

The group exchanged uncertain glances.

Nobody wanted to interrupt.

Nobody wanted to be noticed.

Especially not by Simon.

Unfortunately, Simon had other ideas.

"You owe me."

Limbo sighed.

Not surprised.

Not angry.

Just tired.

"There it is."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You do."

The exchange came too quickly.

Too rehearsed.

Like actors performing a scene they'd done a hundred times before.

Limbo shook his head.

"No."

The Willow rustled.

A long branch lowered beside him.

Not touching.

Simply there.

The way a friend might place a hand on someone's shoulder.

Limbo glanced toward it.

Then back to Simon.

"You saved my life."

Simon's smile widened slightly.

"There it is."

"You don't get to enjoy that."

"I enjoy many things."

"I know."

The answer came immediately.

Too immediately.

Simon laughed.

A genuine laugh this time.

Warm.

Dangerous.

The kind of laugh that made Tess understand how people got themselves into trouble around him.

The man could be charming when he wanted.

Which was probably most of the problem.

Limbo wasn't smiling.

"You saved me."

The words sounded painful.

"You also marked me."

His left arm flexed.

The tattoos shifted beneath the skin.

Angels and clouds moving with the muscles.

Then his right arm.

Fire and chains.

Hell and Heaven.

Side by side.

Simon shrugged.

"You were dying."

"I know."

"You would've been dead by sunrise."

"I know."

"You begged."

Limbo's jaw tightened.

The Willow rustled uneasily overhead.

"I remember."

Simon tapped his stick against the ground.

Once.

Twice.

A hollow sound.

"You wanted revenge."

Limbo didn't answer.

"You got revenge."

Still nothing.

The clearing seemed colder suddenly.

Tess wasn't sure why.

Perhaps because Simon wasn't joking anymore.

Perhaps because Limbo wasn't either.

The old wounds were visible now.

Invisible.

But visible.

Simon tilted his head.

"And afterward?"

Silence.

The Willow's branches swayed.

Tess noticed something.

The tree seemed nervous whenever they talked about this.

As though it remembered.

As though it had been there.

A terrible possibility occurred to her.

Maybe it had.

"And afterward," Simon continued softly, "they nearly killed you."

Limbo looked away.

Toward the golden field.

Toward anywhere except Simon.

"You found me."

The admission seemed to cost him something.

Simon nodded.

"I did."

"Congratulations."

Simon laughed.

Limbo didn't.

The laughter faded.

The clearing returned to silence.

Then Simon asked:

"Would you like me to apologize?"

Limbo stared at him.

"No."

"Good."

The answer came immediately.

"Because I'm not going to."

Grant snorted.

Clint laughed.

Even Sloane smiled.

Limbo rubbed a hand across his face.

The Willow shivered.

For a moment Tess almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Simon cleared his throat.

"They need the Fallen Sun."

"No."

"Limbo."

"No."

The answer came faster this time.

More forceful.

The Willow rustled.

The golden field swayed in the distance.

Even without wind.

"People leave differently than they arrive."

Nobody spoke.

Nobody understood.

Except Simon.

Simon understood perfectly.

"Yes."

"I don't think they understand."

"They don't."

Limbo pointed toward the group.

"Exactly."

Blaine raised his hand.

"I definitely don't."

Nobody acknowledged him.

The conversation continued without him.

Tess tried not to laugh.

Failed.

Limbo sighed.

"Wonderful."

Then he looked at Blaine.

Really looked at him.

The same way Simon had.

The same way Josephine looked at Grant.

Evaluating.

Measuring.

Blaine shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

Limbo pointed toward the tree.

"What did it feel like?"

Blaine blinked.

"What?"

"The bark."

Silence.

Blaine frowned.

"I didn't eat it."

"I know."

The Willow rustled.

Limbo's gaze remained fixed.

"What did it feel like?"

The answer took longer this time.

Blaine thought about it.

Actually thought.

Then:

"Warm."

The clearing became quiet.

Much too quiet.

Limbo looked toward Simon.

Simon smiled.

There it was.

A tiny smile.

Barely visible.

But it was there.

And Limbo saw it too.

"Simon."

"What?"

"You offered it."

"I didn't."

"You thought about it."

Simon laughed.

"I think about many things."

"That's what worries me."

The Willow groaned.

A low mournful sound.

The sound of something hungry hearing its dinner discussed.

Blaine looked from one man to the other.

Increasingly confused.

"What is everybody talking about?"

Neither answered.

That frightened Tess more than if they had.

Finally Limbo exhaled.

Long.

Slow.

Defeated.

The way a man did when he already knew the outcome.

The Willow's branches lowered slightly.

As though sharing the feeling.

Limbo looked up into the canopy.

For a long moment he said nothing.

Then:

"Fine."

Simon smiled immediately.

Of course he did.

Grant stepped forward.

"Fine what?"

Limbo looked past the group.

Into the Blue Tree Forest.

Toward something hidden beyond the blue trees.

The expression on his face wasn't excitement.

Or fear.

Or anticipation.

It was resignation.

Like a man agreeing to walk back into an old wound.

"The Spot of the Fallen Sun."

Nobody spoke.

Even the fairies watching from the forest edge seemed quiet.

Tess frowned.

"The what?"

Limbo's eyes remained fixed on the horizon.

“The place where something fell.”

Tess frowned.

“What fell?”

“Depends who you ask.”

Blaine blinked.

“An angel?”

“That’s one story.”

Clint frowned.

“Like... from Heaven?”

Limbo nodded.

“You can’t fall from hell.”

Then he started toward the wagon.

"Get your things."

Grant looked around.

"We don't have things."

"Good."

The answer came without turning around.

"That'll make this easier."

The Willow rustled overhead.

Simon smiled.

And somewhere deep within the Blue Tree Forest, something seemed to wait for them.

Nobody moved at first.

Limbo busied himself with the wagon.

Simon remained beneath the Willow.

The tree continued to cry.

And the group simply stood there.

As though waiting for someone to explain what had just happened.

No explanation came.

Tess wasn't surprised.

Nothing in the Blue Tree Forest ever seemed interested in explaining itself.

Limbo checked the wheels.

Adjusted a loose strap.

Examined one of the barrels.

The movements were automatic.

Practiced.

The sort of work a person performed while thinking about something else.

Or trying not to.

Grant glanced toward the forest.

"Where'd they go?"

The question drew everyone's attention.

The fairies.

They had been everywhere moments ago.

Now the woods looked empty.

Almost.

Tess followed his gaze.

A pair of glowing eyes blinked from behind a blue tree.

Then another.

Then another.

Dozens.

The fairies were still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

None willing to cross the boundary.

The realization sent a small shiver through her.

The Willow wasn't part of the forest.

Not really.

It stood beyond it.

Close enough to touch.

Far enough to matter.

Simon noticed her looking.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

Tess didn't answer.

She wasn't interested in encouraging him.

That never stopped Simon.

"They hate this place."

A branch rustled overhead.

Simon smiled.

"Which is unfortunate."

The Willow shivered.

The smile faded.

For a moment he almost looked sad.

Then the moment passed.

Grant had already stopped listening.

His eyes were fixed on something beyond the trees.

Or rather someone.

Josephine.

The fairy sat on a low branch near the edge of the forest.

Alone.

The others had retreated deeper into the woods.

She hadn't.

She watched Grant.

The way she'd been watching him since they met.

Patiently.

Quietly.

Tess felt irritation bubble up again.

She wasn't entirely sure why.

The fairy wasn't doing anything.

Just sitting there.

Watching.

Still.

Grant took a step toward the trees.

Josephine immediately sat up straighter.

Not excited.

Attentive.

As though something important was happening.

Maybe it was.

Neither spoke.

The distance between them felt strangely intimate.

Tess hated that.

Grant raised a hand.

A simple wave.

Josephine looked at it.

Looked at him.

Then slowly stood.

The wind tugged at her hair.

For the first time all day she didn't seem playful.

Or mischievous.

Or dangerous.

Just serious.

"You'll come back."

Her voice carried easily through the trees.

Grant frowned.

"What?"

"You'll come back."

Not a question.

Not a hope.

A certainty.

Something in her tone unsettled Tess.

Grant laughed nervously.

"Yeah."

Josephine smiled.

A small smile.

A private smile.

As though she'd heard exactly the answer she expected.

Then she stepped backward.

The shadows swallowed her.

Just like that.

Gone.

Grant stared at the empty space for several seconds.

Longer than he should have.

Long enough for Tess to notice.

Again.

She folded her arms tighter.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

A fairy.

Really.

Meanwhile Limbo finished securing the wagon.

Then glanced toward the group.

"Well?"

Nobody moved.

Limbo grabbed the front handle of the wagon.

"Move."

The others began to follow.

Tess lingered, watching the tattoos roil across Limbo’s arms as though alive.

She watched his precise steps.

The glance he cast back toward the Willow.

When he turned, he caught her staring.

Not impressed.

Not flattered.

Not interested.

Disappointed.

The expression hit harder than it should have.

Tess looked away first.

Annoyed.

The wagon lurched forward.

The wheels creaked.

The Willow rustled overhead.

Limbo touched two fingers to the edge of his forehead.

A silent farewell.

The tree responded.

Its branches swayed gently in the morning light.

Like a hand waving goodbye.

Simon remained beneath the canopy.

One hand resting atop his hickory walking stick.

Watching them leave.

Watching everything.

The tears continued to fall around him.

The wagon rolled from the clearing and reentered the world of blue.

Somewhere ahead, beyond the trees, the Spot of the Fallen Sun waited.

Blaine sidled up beside Limbo.

“So, what’s your story?”