Tink

Madison Square Park, Manhattan

"Come out, Tink."

A slight figure with long limbs and a glittering emerald green corset and a short and ragged tutu skirt just this side of decency steps out from behind the tree he is facing and waves.

"Hi, Barty. You look really funny. Like a grumpy old bear."

She takes her time walking to the seat. Sits down on the snow and ice-bound iron seat without a flinch.

"You were supposed to stay in the house."

"You didn't say that, Barty."

"You are—were—under house arrest. I told Officer Campbell to keep his eyes on you."

"Oh, that's OK, Barty."

She laughs, lifts her hand, and opens her fingers.

Officer Campbell's eyes stare up at him.

"He still is."

---

The blizzard howls about Bartholomew, Balthazar, Bal-Bardo, Professor of the Ontology of Archetypes at NYU, but he cannot hear it. He stands as if in the still quiet centre of a tornado, with the Elemental offering him the eyes of Officer Campbell, and they are all he can see. As he watches, the bloody stalk of one eye twitches, as if trying to move the white orb to focus on him. Barty's mind stalls. He is thought-free, as blank as white paper, as if about to dissolve into the snow.

"Oh, Barty, did I do something wrong?"

The Elemental sounds like Tink. Her little-girl-grown-up-bad voice, mocking and childlike, teasing as it is tempting. And it looks like Tink. It has her long limbs, her white-gold hair in a tousled helmet. It has her heart-shaped face and doe-like eyes. But there is something missing. Tink's sense of play, her need to please, her insecurity—all absent. This Elemental is cold.

Barty drags his eyes from those of Officer Campbell and looks into the eyes of the Elemental.

"You're not Tink."

"Well, aren't you the sly one, Professor."

The voice hasn't changed, but its intent has. The Elemental that stares back at him is otherworldly, her human form worn like a skin, not lived in like Tink. The air about her has the heaviness and charge that can manifest around Tink when she is enraged or aroused, but even then it lacks the intensity, the density that this elemental invokes. And then there are her eyes—cold and emotionless. Lizard eyes.

"Who are you?"

"I am Tink."

"No, you are more. You are Inanna? I ask for guidance, not to challenge."

Something glitters in her eyes and subsides. It was over in an instant. But it was an instant that sends a charge through him that wakes his senses and cuts through his blankness. He is in mortal danger right here, right now, from something far more alien than Tink.

---

The radio in Bill Malfiosi's NYPD Emergency SUV barks:

"All units, 10-13, 10-13, Officer down. Central to DI Command, urgent."

"Be advised: Officer assigned protective detail at 144 West 88th is down with severe facial trauma. Second officer on scene reports grievous assault. Suspect is an Elemental under protective status. This is a D.I.E. escalation—category Echo-6."

"DI-1, respond immediately. Repeat: DI-1, respond."

"Give me that mike." Bill Malfiosi leans forward and takes the microphone from the shotgun officer, snapping his own reply.

"Copy. DI-1 responding. En route to 144 West 88th. ETA... OK, thirty minutes."

"All responding units: hold perimeter. Do not engage the subject. I repeat—do not engage. Suspect is under D.I.E. protection."

"Have ESU establish inner cordon. Fire and medics stage on Bedford until secured. Nobody moves until I give the word."

Dispatch comes back:

"DI-1, update. Officer Campbell is down. Scene is unstable. Responding units are five mikes out, ESU six. We cannot delay support—requesting tactical greenlight."

Bill replies:

" Listen: no one goes in that building. You think you're dealing with an assault—you're not. Secure the perimeter, shut down pedestrian access, tell ESU to bring containment gear—but do not activate it unless there's a body count. We don't need another Van Astor incident."

Dispatch redirects:

"Be advised: DI-1 is delayed. Per Command, establish a secure perimeter only. No entry, no engagement. Subject is under deviant protection. This is a high-risk containment."

"ESU to approach with extreme caution. Hold position until further orders."

Bill settles back into his seat, stretches his neck, and then lets the tension out in a shout:

"GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!"

Then:

"Hand me the radio," Bill growls, holding out his palm. The officer doesn't look—just passes it back. Their questions will come after the calls. And their challenges. The tension in the cabin is stretched taut, elastic at its limit.

"Central, patch me through to the second officer. Priority."

"Copy, patching now. Stand by—Officer Torres is still on scene, appears shaken but conscious."

(Brief static, then a click—line opens)

"Torres, DI-1 is coming on. Priority channel. Give me your status."

Torres's voice is shrill, barely controlled.

"He hasn't got any eyes! He hasn't got any eyes!"

"This is DI. Say again, Torres."

"She took his eyes!"

"Where are you now, Torres?"

"I'm with Campbell in the front room. Did you hear what I said? She took his eyes!"

"I heard, Torres. How is Campbell? Is he breathing?"

"He is breathing real hard."

"And where is Tink, the Elemental? Where is she now?"

"I don't know. I don't know."

"And Professor Bal-Bardo? Where is he? Is he hurt?"

"No! He left. He got Campbell to babysit the freak and then he left."

"What? You are on your own?"

"Yeah. But back-up's coming, right?"

"Torres, this is what I want you to do..."

---

"She wanted to help you, sly one. Are you worthy of her love?"

The alien Tink moves closer to him. He can feel her breath on his face, the earthy licorice smell of absinthe, feel the warmth from the human body worn like a suit. Was Tink human once? That’s a thought to explore another time. But some form of blood is flowing through the long body close to him, some form of heart beats. For a second Barty imagines a collection of parts assembled by an Elemental: the heart of a deer, the bones of an ape, the muscles of a wolf, all wrapped in the white bellies of fish. But where do those eyes come from, brilliant and emerald like the fish-scale bodice of her dress? Barty tries to drive the thought from his mind, but it has taken root. Grows.

"Where is she?"

"In front of you. She is your Tink still, but greater, older … glorious."

"But you control her. You did at the Astors."

For a moment the Elemental looks thoughtful.

"I showed her what they were —Then I made them little toys to play with. We had fun with them."

"So you were there."

"Of course. She and I are one."

The clear green eyes hold him entranced. He can barely think again. They reflect the world, the entire icebound world, and it would be such a small slip to fall into that reflection of the world. And perhaps all the world is a reflection in an Elemental's eye. Perhaps that is all existence has ever been. Part of Barty wants to give in to that thought, to fall into those eyes.

"You were one once. No longer."

It is an enormous struggle to speak. To form the right words. To arrange their order, like trying to rebuild a smashed glass with only your fingers to do the looking. Fingers sliced and aching.

"How is it she loves you so?"

The Elemental doesn't expect an answer. It turns its head as if listening to someone. Then holds the hand containing Officer Campbell's eyes up to her own. She closes her hand about the jellies and opens it again. Her hand is white and clean. Flakes of snow begin to settle on her palm.

"There, it is done."

The Elemental gets to her feet and steps away from Barty to look up at the towers smothered in the blizzard. And then back at Barty.

"This is a strange new world. Such power. Such ignorance. Abomination upon abomination."

Barty can hear the faint wail of a siren. The swirling white mass of the blizzard brightens with blue lights. And then the blizzard engulfs him again, as if the quiet still centre had never been. Barty staggers from the shocking assault of wind and snow, gasps at the sudden fall of temperature. But the blue lights grow stronger and dark shapes form in the whiteout, then the lumbering forms of men struggling from the squad cars towards him.

Barty hears one officer shout:

"Over here."

And then the officer pulls out his sidearm and screams:

"On the floor, Professor. Face down. Now."