“So we need to find one of these canids,” she said.
“Easier said than done. It’s not like the cousins have an office on Main Street where we can just call up and make an appointment. We’d probably have as much luck finding Joe on our own as we would one of the canids—at least in time for it to be of any use to your friend Jilly.”
“But we must know someone who knows one of them,” Sophie said. “Like Kerry.”
“Kerry?”
“You know. She has that herb shop down the street from Mr. Truepenny’s …”
Sophie’s voice trailed off.
For all Jilly’s complaints, and Sophie’s protests to the contrary, Sophie didn’t spend all her time in Mabon. She’d had adventures—though none she’d precipitated. Most of them were in what she called the fairy-tale world, a part of the dreamlands where magics were more obvious than in Mabon. Where there were goblins and bogles and witches like Granny Weather. Where she’d met her Jeck—first as a crow, then as the handsome man who’d become her boyfriend. But once, she’d gotten trapped in another place, a desert dreamland that echoed the American Southwest, and for the longest time, whenever she fell asleep, she’d returned to it, instead of to Mabon.
“What is it?” Jeck asked.
“I know a coyote,” she said. “That time I went through the back door of Mr. Truepenny’s shop …”
“And were gone forever.”
She leaned across the table and gave him a kiss. “It just felt like that, but it’s sweet of you to say it all the same.”
“You got trapped in that world.”
Sophie nodded. “But I wouldn’t now. I found the way out.”
“Coyotes can’t be trusted.”
“They say the same thing about crows.”
Jeck sighed. “How would you even call him to you once you were there?”
“With my famous faerie blood, I guess.”
Jeck stared at her for a long moment, surprise in those violet eyes of his. Finally he leaned forward.
“Where’s my Sophie,” he said, “and what have you done with her?”
For a moment Sophie didn’t know what he was talking about. But then she realized.
“I know it seems odd,” she said, “but I think I’m coming to accept that it might be true. Or at least that there’s something odd about me that has machines malfunction back home and allowed me to do whatever it is I did to help make all of this—” She waved a hand to encompass all of the city, not just the apartment where they were sitting. “Real.”
Jeck slowly shook his head. “What brought this on?”
“I’m not sure. Talking to Jilly, I suppose. Are you all shocked?”
“No. Happy, actually.”
Sophie gave him a curious look.
“Why?” she asked. “Does it make a difference in our relationship?”
“Only in how you might become more comfortable with yourself,” he told her.
Sophie thought about that for a moment and realized he might be right. There was always this tug-of-war going on inside her, a struggle between what she believed was real and what she thought wasn’t. With all this business with Jilly and the wolves and everything, she hadn’t had the time to stop and be still for a moment. But now that she was, she found that the inner struggle had gone silent. It was an odd feeling, actually. Like a favorite tight T-shirt suddenly gone loose.
“You might even find,” Jeck said, “that when you return to your homeworld, Jinx will be gone.”
“You think my problem with machines was because of my denying this whatever it is I have—this faerie blood?”
“It’s possible. You don’t have that kind of trouble here, but here you’re much more accepting of marvels and magics. Here it’s all a dream for you. The stress of having to believe in it doesn’t come over you until you leave. Until you return home.”
Sophie looked at him for a long moment. “I always believed in you,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know why,” she added, “but that was just never a question for me.”
When she reached a hand across the table, he covered it with his own and they sat like that for a time, looking at each other, and smiling.
“I’m coming with you,” he said after a time.
“I’m glad.”
Mr. Truepenny’s Book Emporium and Gallery was only a few blocks from their apartment so it didn’t take them long to get there. Although it was after store hours, when they looked through the window, Mr. Truepenny was still sitting at his desk, his long Don Quixote body folded up to fit in the small space because of the clutter of hardcovers and paperbacks and magazines stacked around him. He was studying a book that was open on the desk, absentmindedly fussing with that pipe of his that he never lit.
When Jeck tapped on the window to get his attention, Mr. Truepenny started, almost dropping the pipe. Turning, he pushed his round spectacles up his nose and broke into a smile when he recognized the pair of them.
“Come in, come in,” he said after he disentangled himself from his cramped position behind the desk and came around to unlock the door. “To what do I owe this late-night pleasure?”
“We need to use your back door,” Sophie told him.
He gave her a puzzled look.
“You know,” she said. “The one that leads out into a desert world sometimes.”
She saw understanding come to him then. That last time she’d used the door, Jeck had driven Mr. Truepenny half mad trying to find out what had happened to her, so she was surprised he hadn’t twigged immediately to what she was asking him.
“You understand that it doesn’t only open out into the desert?” Mr. Truepenny said.
Sophie nodded. “I know. Most of the time it just leads out to the alleyway …”
Her voice trailed off as Mr. Truepenny shook his head.
“The problem with that door,” he said, “and others like it, is that they lead to anywhere and anywhen.”
Sophie sighed. “Is this one of those ‘you have to really keep your mind focused on what you’re doing’ kind of things?”
Mr. Truepenny nodded. “Either something will lead you to where you need to go—”
“Like that sound of the flute did the last time.”
“—or you have to be very certain of where you mean to arrive.”
“We can do that,” Sophie assured him. “Can’t we, Jeck?”
“We can try,” Jeck said.
“I mean, crow blood and faerie blood—we’ve got the mojo, right?”
Mr. Truepenny pushed his glasses up again and regarded her through their round rims.
“You sound as though you’re trying to convince yourself more than me,” he said.
Why did people always see through her so easily? Sophie wondered.
“I suppose I am,” she said aloud.
Mr. Truepenny gave a thoughtful nod.
“I know it’s none of my concern,” he said, “but might you be able to tell me why it is that you need to access the desert world?”
“It’s no secret,” Sophie told him, “but it is kind of a longish story.”
“I’ll put some tea on,” Mr. Truepenny said.
While he was getting the tea, Sophie and Jeck returned to the front of the store where they made room for themselves by shifting aside stacks of recent arrivals. Sophie smiled at the top book of the first stack she moved: Country Car Interiors by Martha Stewart. Now there was a book that wouldn’t be appearing anytime soon in the World As It Is. Another stack had Coyote Cowgirl Hitches a Ride by Kim Antieau on top of it. That one she put aside to have Mr. Truepenny hold for her after he’d priced it.
Later, when Sophie was done with her story, Jeck poured them all another cup of tea from the big brown betty that Mr. Truepenny had used for as long as Sophie had been coming to the shop. Dodger, the marmalade store cat, chose that moment to come out from under Mr. Truepenny’s desk and jump up onto Sophie’s lap
, bumping her hand with his head until she started to scratch him under his chin.
“So it would be specifically Joseph you need to contact,” Mr. Truepenny said. “Rather than your coyote friend—or a canid in general, for that matter.”
Sophie supposed she shouldn’t have been all that surprised when Mr. Truepenny had told them he knew Joe. Joe was like Jilly in that way, except where Jilly only seemed to know every third person in Newford, Joe’s circle of acquaintances and friends encompassed a good part of the dreamlands as well.
“Do you have some way that we can contact him?” she asked.
“Not I, personally,” Mr. Truepenny said. Before Sophie’s hopes could sink, he added, “However, it would be a simple matter to acquire the services of Longfoot & Quick and have a message sent to him.”
Sophie and Jeck exchanged glances.
“Longfoot & Quick?” Sophie asked.
Mr. Truepenny paused with a spoon of sugar halfway between the pot and his cup of tea and looked at her from above his glasses.
“The courier people,” he said and gave their address, which was a few blocks over from his shop. He put the sugar in his tea and reached for the milk. “They’ve been the talk of the town since they set up shop last year—I’m surprised you’re unaware of their services.”
Both Sophie and Jeck shook their heads.
“They claim a two-day turnaround, anywhere in the dreamlands,” Mr. Truepenny continued, “or offer a complete refund.”
Considering the bewildering quiltwork of timelines and pocket worlds that made up the dreamlands, Sophie couldn’t begin to imagine a service such as this, especially one with such a guarantee.
“How can they possibly do that?” Sophie asked.
Mr. Truepenny shrugged. “I have no idea. How does the Pixie Wood Bakery make their breads and pastries out of sawdust?”
“I didn’t know they did.”
“They do it with magic,” Mr. Truepenny said.
He stirred his tea, adjusted his glasses yet one more time, and then took a sip. Smiling with satisfaction, he put the cup on his desk and began to fuss with his pipe.
“It always comes down to magic,” he went on. “We never seem to be privy to the inner workings of it, but then it’s always struck me that mystery is one of its prime ingredients.”
“Is Longfoot & Quick open at this time of night?” Jeck asked.
“They provide a twenty-four-hour service,” Mr. Truepenny said. “I’m really quite surprised that you’ve never availed yourself of their services before. I find them terribly useful for sending out special orders.” He looked down into his empty teacup and sighed. “I wish I hadn’t thought of the Pixie Wood,” he added. “It’s made me come over all peckish. For something sweet, rather than savory, mind you, and I ate my last hazelnut cookie this morning.”
Sophie collected herself. Setting Dodger down on the floor, she stood up. She ignored the cat’s grumpy look at being dislodged.
“We’ve got sticky buns at home,” she said. “We could bring some by after we’ve sent our message.”
“With raisins?” Mr. Truepenny asked hopefully.
“Chock-full of them,” Sophie assured him.
4
If Cassie was surprised by Wendy’s reappearance at her apartment later that night, she showed no sign of it. She only smiled and ushered Wendy through the door without a comment. Inside, only one large fat candle lit the living room and the air was redolent with the scent of cedar incense.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
Wendy shook her head. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“I’ve got a pot of green tea already made.”
“Tea’d be lovely.”
Cassie had answered the door wearing silk pajamas that were such a bright pink they had banished any sleepiness Wendy might have been feeling and made her forget for a moment why she was here. Still smiling, Cassie steered her to a seat on the sofa and went to fetch another raku teacup. Like her own, it had a blue-green glaze that caught the candlelight and made Wendy feel like she was looking at a jewel from underwater.
“I love the incense,” she said as Cassie poured her tea for her.
“I was thinking about Joe,” Cassie explained. “The smell of cedar always makes me feel closer to him.”
Wendy was about to ask why, but now that she thought about it, there was often the faint hint of cedar about him, rather than the smell of tobacco. Odd, really, when you considered how much he smoked. But he never smelled like cigarettes.
“Actually, I’m here because of Joe,” she said.
“You’ve heard from him?”
Hearing the eagerness in Cassie’s voice, Wendy hated to disappoint her.
“No,” she said. “I just need to get a message to him and I thought you’d know how.”
Cassie shook her head. “Once he’s in the otherworld, he’s pretty much out of contact. Why do you need to reach him?”
“Well, I went by the rehab,” Wendy said, “and Sophie was there with Jilly, the two of them arguing …”
She filled Cassie in on the latest developments.
“That would explain the residual presence I felt in Jilly’s apartment,” Cassie said when she was done. “Jilly, but not Jilly. Or rather the same strong presence, but much, much darker.”
Wendy remembered Jilly’s comment, made in jest.
“Her psycho evil twin,” she said.
“Did Jilly say that?”
“She was kidding. Actually, she’s way protective of this sister she hasn’t seen in, what? Twenty years? She just won’t believe that she could have changed that much. But people do change. I’ve seen them change overnight.”
Cassie nodded. “I have, too—when the circumstances are right.”
“And we don’t know any of this sister’s circumstances.”
“Maybe Jilly just doesn’t want to believe,” Cassie said. “It’s got to be hard to have suspicions like that about someone in your own family.”
Wendy shook her head. “I don’t know about that. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s said she doesn’t have a blood family. Only the one she chose.”
“I know that feeling,” Cassie said.
“Yeah, I’m probably the only one in our circle of friends who actually enjoys a family get-together. But then I’m lucky—in my family, we all get along.”
Wendy had finished her tea and was happy to hold out her cup when Cassie offered her a refill. There was something about tea that she found so comforting. They all drank it, though for Jilly the real comfort drink was coffee. Sophie’s was a glass of red Bordeaux.
“Has Jilly told Lou?” Cassie asked.
Wendy shook her head. “She doesn’t want the police involved.”
“Lou’s not like other cops. He’s a friend.”
“But he’s still a cop and he’s so by the book that he’d never let it slide either. It’d be, arrest Jilly’s sister, put her in jail, and let the judge sort it out later.”
Cassie nodded. “I guess that’s Lou all right. I wish Joe were here. He’s always been better dealing with this kind of thing.”
“Can’t your cards tell us where he is?”
“They’d only tell us what we already know: he’s in the spiritworld. How far, how deep, is anybody’s guess. I wouldn’t begin to know where to go look for him.”
Wendy gave her a curious look.
“So you can cross over as well?” she asked.
Cassie nodded. “Though I almost always go with Joe. My sense of direction’s awful over there and if I was left to my own devices, I’d probably never find my way back.
“So you can really go over. You don’t go in a dream like Sophie and Jilly.”
“I wish I could go in a dream,” Cassie said. “Then whenever I got lost, I could just wake up.”
Wendy sighed and slouched back in the sofa.
“Are you all right?” Cassie asked.
Wendy nodded. “Just tired, I guess.”
Cassie regarded her for a long moment but said nothing.
“I guess I feel kind of stupid,” Wendy added.
“About what?”
“I don’t know. The spiritworld. All this traveling around in dreams. I didn’t really think about it when it was just Sophie—or even when Jilly was able to do it, too. It was just the way it was. But now … I guess it really hit me tonight when I realized that they’re going to be hanging out together in the dreamlands without me. Before this we’ve always done everything together. Well, not everything, but you know what I mean.”
Cassie nodded. “The important things.”
“Exactly. The dreamlands is something I’m never going to be able to share with them and I hate feeling this way—you know, how I’m going to be more and more on the outside of things.” She shook her head. “I told you it was stupid. I mean, I’m used to Sophie being able to do it and it’s what Jilly’s always wanted, so I should be happy for her, right? And I am happy for her. But I can’t help feeling left out, and I guess a little hurt at the same time.”
“That’s not stupid,” Cassie told her.
“Maybe. But it’s not helping matters either. And I hate feeling jealous.”
“You have to tell them how you feel,” Cassie said.
“And that’ll solve what?”
“I don’t know. You won’t find that out until they know how you’re feeling about all of this.”
“I don’t want them to stop going on my account,” Wendy said.
“But you’d like to join them.”
Wendy nodded. “Except that’s not going to happen because I don’t have this big shiny light in me like Jilly and Sophie do.” She sat up from the couch and looked at Cassie. “I don’t, do I?”
“Not that I can see.”
Wendy slumped back in the sofa again. “So it’s all hopeless.”
“Not necessarily,” Cassie told her. “I don’t have that shine, either. Or the blood of the cousins like Joe does. But I can still cross over.”
“Can you show me how?”
Cassie nodded. “I can take you over, but it’ll depend on you whether or not you’ll be able to do it on your own.”
“So it still comes down to being special.”
The Onion Girl Page 37