Ashton's mouth floundered like a salmon dragged from the river.

  There's a crazy man at my door.

  “You may speak,” the man said, plainly amused. The stranger's eyes were elusive, but swelled with authority—pinning Ashton like a butterfly to a corkboard.

  "Urm, hello?" Ashton said.

  The stranger tapped the glass. "Would you be so kind as to lower this barrier so we can speak more openly?"

  Absolutely not, Ashton thought, even as his fingers betrayed him, cracking the window. "I don't have any change," he blurted.

  Chuckling, the man shook his head. "I have no need for your coin."

  Ashton swallowed, trying to force words past the knot in his throat. “How can I help you?”

  "Ah, that is precisely the crux of our impending discourse."

  The wind howled and the stranger pulled his coat tighter. “My boy, the air is rather biting tonight. Would you be so kind as to share the warmth of your carriage so we can comfortably discuss matters?”

  Ashton blinked, hand hovering over the gear shift.

  "Come now, be a good lad and open the door," the man coaxed. "No ill has ever come from showing clemency to an old man."

  Without understanding why, Ashton unlocked the door. The man folded his large frame and slid into the passenger seat; the car seemed to shrink around him.

  "By Mystery's shrouded face!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. "Have you no vernal season in this accursed realm? Two moons since my arrival, and still, the sun's warmth eludes me."

  Ashton’s eyebrow arched. “Where are you from?"

  "A land of more obliging climes."

  "California?" Ashton guessed.

  "California!" the stranger repeated, smiling. "A delightful name—it sings off the tongue. Is it a neighboring realm?"

  "It's... a state," Ashton replied, "across the country." He spoke slowly, convinced his guest was missing a few marbles.

  His brow furrowed. "Tell me, is the climate more forgiving in the State of California?"

  "Usually, yes."

  "Then I regret fate deposited me here and not there,” he sighed, wistful. “Yet, I breathe, and that is gift enough. Perhaps you could bear me to this sunlit haven?"

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  Ashton's eyes narrowed. "You want a ride to California? Now?"

  "What better time! Point this chariot toward that glorious land and let us depart at once."

  "It's a long way..."

  "How so?"

  "Distance? Time?"

  The stranger waved a massive hand through the air. "Adventure is not measured in steps or days, but in tales spun and glory gathered. Think on it now—what would be more exquisite than shedding these heavy garbs, laying upon hot sands, and feeling the chill driven from our bones?"

  Ashton smiled at the thought of throwing caution to the wind in answer to adventure's call. But, at last he said,"I'm sorry, but my shift is done for the day." The words tasted bitter, like missed opportunity.

  "Ah, pity. Perhaps we can revisit the prospect another time," the man said lightly, humming softly as he held his hands near the vents. Ashton studied him carefully.

  His great beard of faded fire was mostly ash, though a few stubborn threads of ember survived. The sharp, aquiline nose could have belonged to a Roman emperor, with deep laugh lines framing gull-wing lips beneath. Though plain and cheap, his clothes were meticulously clean, carrying the faint floral scent of detergent. His hands bore the crosshatched roughness of hard work, dirt wormed deep into the skin, yet his nails were spotlessly trimmed.

  Sharp enough to keep himself in order. Also, well-spoken. Polite.

  Not homeless, Ashton decided, just... eccentric.

  He cleared his throat. "Um...Sir?"

  "Sire," the man corrected.

  Ashton blinked. "I'm sorry?"

  "'Tis 'sire,' my boy. Or, more formally, 'Your Highness' will do."

  Okay—he's a lunatic, Ashton thought. Curious, he decided to play along.

  “Pray tell, noble king,” Ashton said with a smirk, “how might this humble servant do your bidding?”

  “For now, simple conversation will suffice. And do not mock, boy—it is beneath you.” Ashton flushed, but the man continued. “You are a porter, are you not?”

  "A what?"

  “You bear travelers to and fro. That is your vocation?”

  “Ah, yes. I’m a rideshare driver,” Ashton said, nodding.

  The man clapped once. “Excellent! Providence has brought us together this eve. And you say your duties are concluded?”

  “Yes, I’m done for the night. In fact, I was about to head home, so—"

  "Nothing like home, is there? What awaits you? A loving wife? Children? A loyal hound, even?"

  "Just a bed," Ashton admitted, embarrassed.

  The man's gaze held no judgment, only interest. "That is fine, as well. Few rewards rival sleep's sweet embrace after an honest day's toil, he said. “But before you go, I have a small request.”

  Ashton raised an eyebrow. "What sort of favor?"

  The man let out a loud laugh. "You are shrewd—that is a good. Rest assured, your plans for sleep shall not be terribly delayed."

  "What is it?" Ashton pressed.

  "I require a guide, and I believe you are just the man for the job," the stranger declared, as if announcing a royal decree.

  Ashton shook his head. "I already told you..."

  "My destination is nearer than your California, I assure you."

  "I can't."

  "I am confused — is that not your profession?"

  "Yes, but I don't work for favors."

  A sly smile crept across the stranger's face. "You will be paid handsomely." He snapped his fingers, and a gold coin appeared as if plucked from the air.

  Ashton’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that’s real?”

  "Judge for yourself." The coin arced through the air, landing heavily in Ashton's palm.

  His fingers roved over the foreign script etched into the edge. The profile embossed in the metal bore a slight resemblance to his guest. He rolled the coin between his fingers then, because he'd seen it done in movies, bit it. The metal yielded slightly, leaving small teeth marks where he had bitten.

  "Suspicious sort, aren't you?" The passenger chortled.

  "How much is it worth?" asked Ashton.

  The passenger waved the question off. "To me? Nothing. To you? Well, that remains to be seen." That otherworldly glare bored into Ashton, pressing him like a reed in the wind. "Now, about that ride..."