“— Right,” Tom said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handcuffs. They felt cold and impossibly heavy.
“Now, you do have keys for these, right?” Danny said, grinning.
“We’d hate to have to leave you out here,” Sean said.
Tom smiled weakly and handed the key to Danny. The last thing he wanted was to be helpless in front of Sean, but the plan wasn’t going to work otherwise.
He walked to the nearest, thickest tree, faced the circle, and hugged his arms around it. Danny stepped around to the other side, and Tom felt the cold metal cuffs close around his wrists, closed his eyes at the ratcheting sounds.
“That too tight?” Danny asked.
“It’ll do.”
“Listen, Tomcat, do we have to do this part?” Danny shot a glance at Sean. “Are you sure you’re okay like this?”
Tom thought of Jason, lashed to the mast of the Argo, resisting the sirens’ call. “I’m sure,” he said. “Okay. So. You and Sean go stand next to the edge of the circle. And be ready.”
They stood, Danny looking tense, Sean looking bored.
He could feel it. Hear the notes, the rhythm, as the leaves fluttered and murmured in the cool air. His feet hurt from not moving in step.
Maybe I don’t need to do it like this, he thought. It wouldn’t hurt anything to get a little closer, would it?
He wanted to call out to have them free him, but instead he made himself say, “Danny, no matter what I say, do not let me out until this is all over, all right?”
“Right,” Danny said, and then he said — “Is — is that — ”
“It’s starting,” Sean said.
They could all see it. Tom was the only one who could really see it, see more than shape and shadow.
He could see the dance. And the dancers. The Good People. The Summer Folk. The Fae.
Twirling and blurred, color and motion, impossibly tall and graceful beyond all measure, the Fae, spinning and smiling through their spiral dance.
“Do you see him?” Danny shouted. They couldn’t hear the music, these two, but the wind was gathering, stirring. The whole clearing taking on the quality of moonlight in the middle of the day, a cool blue storm rising. “Do you see him?”
Tom was pulling against the handcuffs so hard his hands were bleeding, trying desperately to get closer, trying to dance. “Not yet,” he shouted back.
The dancers wore silver and white and gold, colors deeper than infrared and brighter than ultraviolet, fabrics more like clouds than like silk. Beauty enough in this one moment for a lifetime. The dancers moving back and forth, complex interweaving knotwork steps, impossible to follow. Just sleight of hand. Watch the coin.
Isaiah —
“Now!” Tom screamed.
Sean and Danny pounced, a good hard football tackle.
Everything stopped.
Tom fell slack against the tree.
And in the center of the circle — three men, sprawled on the ground.
Tom laughed, a single triumphant sound. Then they were all laughing, him and Danny and Sean. And Isaiah.
In Isaiah’s arms was the briefcase, still chained to his wrist. Inside it was over fifty thousand dollars.
And Isaiah — Isaiah looked just the same.
Seven years before, and Isaiah wasn’t there. He almost never was, in those days, even though they all knew him. Never there, like a little brother left behind while the other kids went about their serious games.
He wasn’t there, but they were talking about him. The four of them — it was always the four of them then, Danny and Connor and Tom and Sean, always, in clubs and in bars and in trouble.
They were parked across the street, looking at it.
“Isaiah’s dad used to own the place,” Danny said. “Now his dad’s dead and it’s his uncle’s and Isaiah doesn’t like his uncle at all. I mean, at all. But he’s still working there.”
Sean was in the back seat, leaning forward. “How much are we talking about?” His voice was cool, mildly interested, like they were talking about a football game. Tommy used to think this just meant Sean was really cool, back then.
“A lot,” Danny said. “Thousands, easy. Isaiah’s seen him putting cash in the safe and there’s stacks of it.”
“Why?” Connor said.
“Why? Shit, Connor, it’s a jewelry store. It makes a ton of money.”
“But why does he have so much cash? You don’t think people buy diamond rings with cash in hand, do you?”
“How should I know? Maybe he doesn’t like banks. Maybe he’s got something illegal going on, he wants to keep off the books. Maybe he’s just scared of that Y2K shit. Who cares?”
“Why don’t we take the jewels, too?” Sean said.
Danny turned to stare at him. “Do you know where to fence jewelry? ’Cause I sure as fuck don’t.”
Sean shrugged. “I’m sure I could find out.”
“No, forget it. We just go in, get the cash, and get out before the cops get there. Isaiah’s uncle doesn’t even know his dad ever told him the safe combination. Nobody will even suspect him — ”
“Oh, the fuck they won’t,” Connor said. “They’ll know it was an inside job. They’re not stupid. Isaiah’s the first person they’ll suspect.”
There was silence in the car. Three of them staring holes in the jewelry store. Tom just staring out the side window into nothing.
“We’d need some way for Isaiah to disappear for a while,” Sean said.
“The money, too,” Tom said quietly.
It was the first time he’d said anything about the plan. They all turned to stare at him.
“What’s the statute of limitations on something like this?” Tom asked. “Five years? Seven?”
“What do I look like, a lawyer?” Danny said. “How the fuck am I supposed to know?”
Connor was just nodding. “You’ve got a plan, don’t you, witch-boy?”
Tom nodded back. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”
“The first thing we do,” Danny was saying as they drove away from the woods, “is get some drinks. A little celebra — no. No, first thing we do is go somewhere private, get that thing off Isaiah’s wrist, and count out our fucking money, am I right?”
“Hear, hear,” Sean said.
“Then we get some drinks,” Danny said.
Tom wasn’t hearing any of this. He was watching Isaiah, who was just staring out the window, arms curled around the briefcase like a doll.
“Are you okay?” Tom asked him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Isaiah looked him with wide eyes. He looked so young. When he’d last seen him, Isaiah had been nineteen and Tommy twenty-one. Now Tom was twenty-eight, and Isaiah —
“Is this happening?” Isaiah asked. “I mean, are we still just talking about this, or is this happening right now?”
— Isaiah was still nineteen.
“It’s happening now,” Tom said.
“Oh. Only, I still hear us talking about it, I still — I’m still hearing music. Do you hear it?”
Yes, Tom thought. “No,” he said.
“Hey, Tom. Tom. I’m talking to you,” Sean said.
“I hear Sean,” Isaiah said, wide-eyed with surprise.
“Sean’s right here. What?”
“Me and Danny were saying. We should get a big suite in a hotel room, get some girls, some champagne. What do you think?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” Tom said.
It didn’t sound great, not really. He wasn’t thinking about why it didn’t. He was just thinking about Isaiah.
“He doesn’t look so good,” Danny said, glancing back at him.
“No, he doesn’t,” Tom said. “Isaiah? Are you doing okay?”
“Uhh. When?”
“Right now. Are you — Isaiah, where’s your St. Christopher’s medal?”
Isaiah’s fingers drifted up to his bare neck. “Gave it. To a girl.”
“In the fairy circle.”
Tom shook his shoulder. “Am I right? You gave it to a girl in the fairy circle?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Isaiah, I told you not to take anything or give anything — fuck. Isaiah, are you listening to me?”
“I’m always listening.”
“Did you eat or drink anything?”
“ … I don’t remember.”
“Oh, bullshit. Isaiah, did you or didn’t you?”
“Tom, what’s the big deal?” Danny said. “What difference does it make if — ”
Tom grabbed the back of Danny’s seat. He leaned in close to his ear.
“Food,” he said, “Now.”
They were parked out behind the fast-food place — Tom hadn’t noticed what one it was and he didn’t care, so long as it was somewhere he could get a cheeseburger and some fries down Isaiah’s throat, something that stereotypically American, something to ground Isaiah in the here and now. And Coke. It had to be Coke, not Pepsi. He’d tasted it to be sure.
It wasn’t working. Isaiah couldn’t keep it down. It came back up behind the dumpster, huge groaning heaves that bent Isaiah’s small frame double, nothing substantial coming up from his lips, just — smoke, it looked like, smoke that fell to the ground like water and shimmered all the colors of an oil-slick in a rain puddle.
“What the fuck is that?” Danny said.
“Trouble,” Tom said. “His body can’t handle the food. It’s rejecting it.”
“What do we do?” Danny said.
“I don’t know,” Tom said. “He might calm down. Change back.” Or, he thought, his lungs might start rejecting the air, next.
“I tell you what we do,” Sean said. “We get him out of sight. Before someone sees him.”
Tom nodded. “Sean’s right,” he said. The words made his mouth feel like an ashtray.
Isaiah had stopped for a moment. He looked like he might start again any minute, but Danny put an arm around his shoulders. “Hey. Hey, Isaiah. You doing okay there, buddy?”
“Feel sick.”
“Sure. Sure you do. But come on. We’re going back to the car now, okay?”
“’ Kay.” He took a few faltering steps forward, looking around, looking lost. “Tommy?”
“Right here, Isaiah.”
“Is it almost the Fourth of July?”
“— No. Why?”
“Almost all these cars have flag stickers on them,” he said.
Something like a smile twitched and died across Tom’s face. What do I tell him? What do you tell someone who hasn’t lived through it all?
Try to explain what it’s like, living under a pressure-front of madness crawling up out of the sea — the fairy folk nearly done with their centuries-long crossing of the Atlantic. Tell him about the watchtowers of the air, brought to earth by fire in New York. Tell him about New Orleans, all its magic and voudoun drawing the Fey like a magnet, the ocean rising up to meet it. By the time they burn like wildfire all across the country to Hollywood, the whole world will be dreaming their dreams.
Explain it all. Or get him to the car and get him out of sight. That was easier.
Isaiah did make it all the way into the hotel bathroom before the next burst of slick smoke came boiling up out of him, streaming from his mouth, his eyes, his ears. Tommy sat on the cold tile floor next to him, holding the toilet seat up, holding Isaiah’s hair out of his eyes.
“You’ll want to get that briefcase off his wrist,” Sean said, standing in the doorway.
“You’ll get your money, Sean,” Tom said.
“What? That’s not what I meant. I just meant, he can’t be comfortable with that cuff on, is all.”
Tom looked up at him. Then he took the key out of his pocket and took the handcuff off Isaiah’s wrist — Isaiah barely noticed. Tom slid the case across the floor to Sean.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” he said.
“What sort of ideas?”
“I’m the only one who knows the combination to that case.”
Sean smiled widely. “Oh, so, no ideas like taking a switchblade to it, then? Don’t worry, Tom. You’ll get your money, too.”
Sean left them alone, closing the door.
“Don’t leave me here,” Isaiah said, and for a second Tom thought he was talking to Sean, then realized he wasn’t.
“I won’t,” he said.
“I’m really sick, Tommy. Am I gonna die?”
“I don’t know, Isaiah. Not if I can help it.”
“I’m sorry. I know you told me not to eat anything — ”
“What did you have to do that for?” Tom snapped, his patience finally gone. “I told you, you needed to do exactly what I said, you — ”
“Tom. I know, okay? I know. But you weren’t there. You didn’t see this place, all right? I know what — ” He looked like he was going to be sick again, but it passed. “I know what all your books said. But you weren’t there. You don’t know what it was like.”
“No,” Tom finally admitted. “I don’t know what it was like.”
“So don’t — don’t leave me here, okay? I know that’s what everyone else wants — just take the money and go, but — ”
“Isaiah — I won’t, I swear to God — ”
“I’m sorry I fucked up, just please, please — ”
“Isaiah. Isaiah, listen.” He took the boy’s head in his hands, waited until those lost eyes focused on him. “I didn’t come back here for the money. Okay?”
“Then — why did you?”
Tom pulled him closer, kissed him fiercely on the cheek. “For you. I came back to get you.”
Isaiah just stared for a second, into eyes just inches away from his own. Then, tentatively, carefully, his lips found Tom’s, a kiss as light and unreal as the brush of a moth’s wing.
There was a knock at the door. Danny’s voice — “You guys okay in there?”
Tom’s head jerked up. “Yeah. We’re fine.” He looked searchingly at Isaiah. “You still feel sick?”
Isaiah nodded unhappily. “Yeah. I’m gonna — ”
He pulled away, crawled into the bathtub, his body convulsing.
There were sparks in the air, a scent like ozone. Tom could feel the hair on his arms standing on end. The lightbulb overhead went out like a gunshot.
The not-liquid spilling out of Isaiah’s head pooled and swirled in the bathtub, luminescent and numinous. Isaiah stared into it.
“He’s killing us,” Isaiah said.
“What?” Tom said, instantly alert. He moved over next to Isaiah, staring into the tub, like a crystal ball, like tea leaves. “Who’s killing us?”
“Sean is. See?” He poked a finger into the spreading Rorschach stains and stirred them. “Tonight. Late. We’re sleeping. Drunk. He’s got a knife and he’s cutting us and cutting us — ”
That’s why he wanted us to come here, Tom thought. That’s why he’s so keen on getting us drunk. Partying all night.
“What about Connor?”
Isaiah frowned, his eyes distant. “Connor’s not talking to Sean any more,” he says. “He’s not talking to anyone anymore.”
Tom nodded. “The knife. Where is it now?”
“In his bag.”
“Isaiah — it’s not going to happen, okay? I won’t let it happen.”
“There’s so much blood, Tommy.”
“You stay here, all right? You stay here and drink water. Water’s a pure element — it can’t hurt you, it’s the same here and in Faerie. You stay here and drink water.”
“Where are you going?” Isaiah asked desperately.
Tom stood up. “To finish this,” he said.
“How is he?” Danny asked.
“Bad,” Tom said flatly. “I have to take him back.”
“Back — to the fairy circle?” Danny said. “Fuck, really?”
“I don’t have any choice, do I?” Tom snapped. “He’s not gonna make it if I don’t.”
“Jesus. Poor Isaiah.”
“So,” Sea
n said carefully, “what about his share?”
Tom turned and stared at him. “He doesn’t need it,” he said. “We split three ways.”
Sean nodded. “All right,” he said.
“Danny? That all right with you?” Tom said, still looking at Sean.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess, yeah.”
“All right. Let’s do this.” Tom walked over to where the briefcase was.
“You want to count it out now?” Danny asked incredulously.
“I just want it done with.” He opened a drawer on the nightstand and pulled out the phonebook, the Gideon Bible, and tossed them on the bed. “Here we are. Pen and paper.” He brandished the pad of hotel stationery. “I’ll count out the money. Danny, you write down the totals and I’ll check your math.”
“You don’t trust us, do you?” Danny grinned.
“Frankly? No, I don’t. I don’t trust Sean at all, and you know what? I don’t trust you when you’re with Sean. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
Sean’s eyes didn’t change. “I thought we were in this as friends, Tom.”
“I think I’d rather be the one to count the money,” Danny said slowly.
“No. All right? I count the fucking money. We wouldn’t have it right now if not for me, and I say I count it. Okay?”
“Tomcat’s got claws,” Sean said. “Who knew?”
“— Go ahead, Tommy, if that’s the way you want it,” Danny said quietly.
Tom opened the case and counted out the stacks of bills. It took a long time, longer than he’d thought. He did it very carefully, very deliberately, letting them watch every step. And they did watch, like lions watching a gazelle.
When all the accounting was done, he said, “Danny, I need to borrow your car. Get Isaiah back to the circle.”
Danny nodded. “Keys are on the nightstand.”
Tom paused on his way to the bathroom. He stepped closer to Danny and said, “You can come with us. If you want to see Isaiah off. Or you can stay here, have a few drinks with Sean. Suit yourself.”
“Think I’ll stay here, then,” Danny said.
Tom sighed. “Which one of us do you trust? Me or Sean?”
Danny’s eyes narrowed. After a long moment, he said, “Sean.”
Slices Page 13