The Autumn Prince

32. Meridian

The shadows faded gradually, but the shock that followed didn't wait for me to take everything in.

Rachel's jeep remained where it had been parked, but at my feet, a cobblestone path had been set into the concrete floor, winding vaguely onward through the center of the building. The lower walls had been bricked with stone except where they encountered the windows, which were framed in black metal, a decorative filigree replacing the simple iron mesh they'd worn the day before.

There was green everywhere I looked. Leaves, vines, and flowers spilled over long, carved window boxes and burst out of huge, clay pots. The girders above were covered in clinging ivy, while flowers bloomed cheerfully in a kaleidoscope of hues from planters on every side. Several large stones had been artfully staged to accent the landscape.

Steel girders, posts, joists, and trusses had either been cleaned or replaced and painted a cool, unassuming gray that seemed to vanish against the vivid colors around them. Any remaining hints of corrosion spoke of antiquity rather than decay.

To my right stood a new, low structure made from rough wood and stone resembling a mountain chalet. Glass doors were flanked by lamps that hung from iron hooks set into the wall above low hedges that grew straight out of the floor. Directly across the path, the makeshift cabins had been replaced by half a dozen tiny, fanciful houses, each unique in color and design.

"It looks like a little village," I breathed, still frozen in wonder.

Finn smirked with satisfaction. "We were going for homey. I take it you're happy with the result?"

I couldn't think of an adequate answer, but managed a few more aimless steps down the cobbled road. The formless, concrete and steel warehouse had been transformed into something out of a storybook. Something alive.

"Is that a kitchen?" I asked, peering into the distance.

"And a common space to park your ass. Living room, siting room, whatever. We even hooked you up with a telly. I didn't want to spoil the open feel by walling them off into actual rooms, though a few partitions were unavoidable. There's no dining table, but you'll all fit around the bar."

"I'm just... I don't know what to say."

"You can start with 'thanks.'"

I looked down and found a wide smile that was more kind than playful. "Thank you, Finn." I'd expected a few basic accommodations, but the Fae had worked miracles. She acknowledged my gratitude with a fraction of the pride the accomplishment deserved.

"Before your friends get here," she said, "I was hoping to ask you for a favor."

"Me?" I couldn't think what I had that she'd possibly want. "Sure. Anything."

She turned her back on me and called out words that weren't remotely English. A moment of silence followed, then a rustling of movement from everywhere at once. "Stay calm," Finn said from the corner of her mouth, "and don't touch anyone."

Dozens of figures stepped into the ambient light from diverse hiding places among the buildings and new growth, revealing a collection of beings that strained the imagination. Without giving me time to adjust, Finn barked another strange word and a huge figure, twice my height and nearly as wide as it was tall, lurched toward me in slow, powerful strides, demanding my attention with a deep groaning that seemed to come from beneath the ground.

"Tom, I'd like you to meet Julius. He helps with the heavy lifting."

I stared blankly as it towered over me with its broad, boulder-like chest and arms thicker than my torso. "H—hi," I managed, and it followed with another guttural moan. I felt a deep, primal need to be as polite as humanly possible, but its skin was so thickly textured, like tree bark, that it obscured the features of its face and I wasn't sure where to look.