by Bill Hiatt
Mr. Weaver looked defeated. “It just isn’t right.”
“No,” I said, “but it’s not as bad as you think. We aren’t just kids, not anymore. As I’ve told you, we have resources other people don’t. We just don’t have any of our team members who can use magic with us, nor any way of finding them without magic. The Order of the Ladies of the Lake seems to be…offline at the moment. We have no way of reaching faerie allies like Gwynn ap Nudd. Shar could invoke the Olympians for us, but since Tal, Carla, Alex, and Nurse Florence went to Olympus earlier at Vanora’s request and haven’t reappeared, something is wrong there.”
Mr. Weaver’s jaw tightened. “What if Tal’s in trouble?”
“Then we’ll go in after him,” I said. “We need to know what’s happening, though. Right now we can’t even be sure Tal is still on Olympus. We also need to find our other friends. There are several people who didn’t go to Olympus or get captured by Vanora. Their help could be invaluable, but only if we can connect with them.”
“How can we help?” asked Mrs. Weaver.
“Find us someone with magic,” I said. “That’s the only way we can move forward.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said, “but you know I can’t force my power to work. It has…a mind of its own.”
We lingered in the diner awhile longer. As soon as the regular power came back, Mr. Weaver paid the check, and we split as fast as we could. Umbra confirmed we were being watched from the shadows, but no one was actively trying to attack. The Weavers went to their car, and we headed to the parking lot where Gavin’s was, intending to rendezvous with the Weavers at the Ritz-Carlton. We were all on edge, but the Populus Umbrae must have been assessing their next move, because they did nothing to stop us.
At the hotel the desk clerk looked a little alarmed by the appearance of five unexpected teenagers, a sense of alarm made sharper by the fact that we kept looking around us as if we expected to be attacked at any moment, to say nothing of the fact that one of us was dressed like a ninja and still blinking at the lights as if she had spent her whole life in a cave.
We had worked out in advance how we would proceed. Mr. Weaver rented rooms for us: one for me and Dan, one for Shar and Gavin, and one for Umbra. Fortunately, the clerk was female, so when she started asking about luggage, Dan said we’d take care of it. It would have been awkward if she had discovered we had none, pretty likely given her excellent view of the lobby, but all Dan needed to do was turn the charisma up all the way, flash his baby blues at her a couple of times, and the luggage faded from her mind. She also seemed markedly less suspicious of us in general. I imagine the fact that she knew the Weavers from previous trips helped, but Dan sealed the deal.
“I’m surprised you didn’t find some excuse to take your shirt off during that performance,” I muttered as we headed for the elevator.
“Didn’t need to,” he said, poking me in the ribs. “Later on I’ll give you some pointers.”
As we waited for the elevator, I looked around the elegant lobby and felt a little sad that the only thing I had noticed about it when we first came in was it was well lit.
As we rode up in the elevator, I devoted a minute to hating the fact that Mr. Weaver had to waste so much money. He didn’t feel right about having us all stay overnight without paying, but for security reasons we couldn’t risk splitting up, so the rooms he had just rented would go to waste. A place as large as the hotel probably had its own generator just like the diner, but we had no time to double-check, and if the lights went out, our best hope of survival was to be together.
Fortunately, the Weavers had a one-bedroom suite, twice the size of a room. Even so, cramming in three large teenage guys and one medium-size one, as well a girl, was going to create logistical problems.
When we got to the room, Umbra was fascinated by it. I supposed that, living in total darkness as they did, the Populus Umbrae were not big on decorating and would not have known what to make of the interplay of white, navy blue, and silver in the room. The carpet pattern seemed to hypnotize her.
Both the diner and the lobby of the hotel had also been visually interesting, but Umbra seemed to react much more here. I wondered if her eyes were finally adjusting to the light, or if she was finally becoming a little more relaxed. I hoped it was both.
Then I noticed Mrs. Weaver staring at the room as well.
“What is it?” I asked.
“White and silver. Tal is someplace white and silver,” she said in a dreamy kind of voice, as if she were partially entranced.
“You mentioned the moon earlier.” I thought maybe prompting her would elicit more specific information.
“I did, but…but I don’t think it’s our moon. It’s a different one.”
“Like orbiting another planet?” asked Mr. Weaver.
“Unlikely,” I replied. “It would take more magic to make someplace like that livable than it would be worth.”
“You know a lot about this…magic, don’t you, Stan?” asked Mr. Weaver.
“I’ve been studying it since I found out about it. Tal teases me about trying to find a system to it, but I’m convinced it has principles as predictable as scientific laws. We just don’t fully understand them yet.”
“Before you nerd out on us completely, shouldn’t we figure out where Tal is?” asked Shar.
“From what we know, I don’t think we can figure it out yet,” I said. “All I can tell you is that the different moon Mrs. Weaver is talking about is probably on another plane of existence.”
“Like Annwn?” asked Shar.
“Or someplace like it. A place where the moon is habitable, like Earth is here.”
“Orlando Furioso,” said Mrs. Weaver suddenly.
“Huh?” said Dan.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Weaver. “The phrase just popped into my head. Being with you young men is…I don’t know, stimulating my gift, I guess because you are so closely connected to Tal.”
I looked it up on my phone. “Italian renaissance epic poem,” I said.
“We’ve found some truth in the Arthurian stories and the Greek myths,” said Dan. “Could there be some in this epic as well?”
“Maybe,” I replied. “One of the characters in Orlando Furioso is Alcina.”
“So I assume there are supernatural places in the epic, one of which is her island,” said Shar.
I scanned through the notes I could find online as fast as I could. “Yeah, part of the action takes place on her island. Wow, now here’s something really interesting.”
“Do tell,” said Dan when I didn’t continue immediately.
“The epic includes a character named Astolfo traveling to the moon. The way Mrs. Weaver is coming out with those details so close together suggests that the moon we need to look for is the one in the same universe as Alcina’s island.”
“Which we can no sooner get to than we can fly to our moon,” said Dan glumly.
“I can take you,” said Umbra.
“Isn’t that too dangerous?” I asked. “You told us you’d have to be in the shadow realm long enough to do complicated calculations if you were traveling to someplace you were not familiar with.”
“And so I would, but did you forget I had been on Alcina’s island?”
“That’s right!” said Shar. “You were injured after the battle in the Madison High parking lot. We took you with us to Alcina’s island while Tal worked on healing Lucas.”
“All I have to do is step into the shadow realm with you for a few seconds, and I can take you through to Alcina’s island.”
“All well and good, but how does that get us to the moon?” asked Dan. “It doesn’t do too much good to get to the island and be stuck there—especially considering it would be a logical place to look for us.”
“I’ll read the relevant sections of the epic and see if I can figure out a way to get from one place to the other,” I said. “If nothing else, we’d be in a magical world and much more likely to find someon
e with magic who could help us.”
“Are these other worlds created somehow by the literature?” asked Mr. Weaver, clearly prepared to believe that was the case. If nothing else, that was a measure of how much his worldview had changed in the last few hours.
“I understand there are fantasy novels written on the premise that our beliefs somehow create other worlds, but I think it’s more likely some of the poets were really seers who connected to worlds already in existence. That said, what we find isn’t always what the literature tells us is there. Things change in those other worlds. They aren’t frozen in whatever form the literature presents them.”
We were excited to actually have a lead and something remotely resembling a plan for how to take advantage of it. We spent a little more time talking, but then Mrs. Weaver began dropping maternal hints that we had a big day ahead and should really get some sleep. Adrenalin had started pumping, but we really were tired, and it seemed best to follow her advice.
The Weavers naturally took the bed, and Umbra, the couch. We guys arranged ourselves on the floor as best we could. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, since the suite was very large, and the carpet was softer than I would have expected. The fact that we had to sleep with all the lights on was a minus, but turning them off would certainly lead to Umbra being snatched at best and all of us being killed at worst, so we put up with the inconvenience.
Actually, the inconvenience turned out not to be a problem. Almost the moment I closed my eyes I fell asleep. When I opened them again, I could see sunlight streaming in through the curtains.
I sat up and stretched a little. My neck felt stiff, but otherwise I was in good shape. Soon we would be rid of the shadow assassins and on our way to join Tal and whoever might be with him. For the first time in hours, I didn’t feel tense as a hyperactive cat.
I got to relax for about a minute and a half. Then Dan rushed in, looking pretty close to terrified.
“Umbra’s missing!” he announced. I had noticed she wasn’t on the couch but thought she was in the bathroom or something.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’ve looked everywhere. She’s not in the room.”
Mr. Weaver walked in buttoning his shirt. “Could she have just taken a walk or something?”
“I doubt she’d just leave without one of us,” said Shar, getting up from the floor and looking out the window with the courtyard view, perhaps hoping to see her strolling in the garden despite what he’d just said.
“All the lights were on,” said Dan. “You don’t think the Populus Umbrae—”
“How could they do anything?” asked Shar. “They can only stand very low light. Anything as bright as these rooms would drive them back to their world. I’ve seen that with my own eyes.”
We all searched the room, then the floor, then every public area in the hotel. No Umbra.
It was only then I realized what could have happened.
“There were dark spots in the room—one of them right under Umbra.”
“Huh?” said Dan, still looking around frantically as if we had somehow missed seeing her in the suite.
“There was a shadow right underneath each of us. Our bodies cut off most of the light.”
“But there wouldn’t have been any room between Umbra and the couch cushions,” protested Dan.
“We don’t know very much about how shadow assassins work,” I admitted. “Think about it, though. Traveling through shadow suggests they must create some kind of opening to move through. They could have created an opening right below Umbra, waited for the right moment, and dragged her in.”
“I think that would have taken a lot of time to set up,” said Shar. “It does make sense, though.”
“Umbra would have awakened,” suggested Dan.
“Maybe not,” I said. “Or maybe she did but was too startled to react fast enough.”
“She offered to sacrifice herself for us earlier,” said Shar. “Despite everything the shadows did to her, she has a noble spirit. From her position on the couch, she could have seen at least two of us. Suppose she saw the Populus Umbrae making openings under us. Maybe they whispered to her we’d die if she didn’t let them take her. Even if she’d cried out, a shadow assassin under each of us could have nicked us with one of those damn daggers, and we’d have been dead in minutes.”
“Umbra might have let herself be captured,” conceded Dan, “but this is all speculation.”
“Yeah, well if something like that didn’t happen, where is she?” asked Shar.
“What do you want to do?” asked Mr. Weaver, looking even more worried than he had during last night’s adventures.
“And how can we help?” asked Mrs. Weaver.
“Any chance you can tell us where Umbra is?” I asked.
“I’ve been trying ever since we discovered she was missing,” Mrs. Weaver replied. “I’m not getting anything, though.”
“Is there any way of rescuing the young lady?” asked Mr. Weaver. His tone wasn’t very confident.
“If Stan and Shar are right, she’s probably dead,” said Dan, staring at the couch as if he could conjure her from it.
I had thought almost from the moment I realized the Populus Umbrae could have her that she probably was dead, but hearing him say it made it more real.
I felt a tear on my cheek. That was embarrassing. Having Mrs. Weaver take me in her arms was more embarrassing, but by then Dan and Shar were tearing up, too. We ended up in a mournful group hug that even Mr. Weaver joined, though he didn’t seem the group-hug type. Gavin joined, too. He didn’t know any of us that well, but we were bonding pretty fast. I could see why Lucas spoke so highly of him.
Once we were cried out and hugged out, Mrs. Weaver insisted we have breakfast, though in a much gentler way than my mother would have. In some ways having a meal as if nothing had happened seemed callous, and David kept suggesting a fast. On the other hand, who knew when we’d get to eat again? I didn’t think we needed to worry about the Populus Umbrae now. Apparently, they could have stabbed all of us from below while we slept if they had wanted to. Vanora would still be looking for us, though, and it was only a matter of time before she checked on the Weavers, the only parents of our group not already in her clutches. It wouldn’t be long before we’d have to be on the run again, though to where I had no idea.
We ended up having the American breakfast buffet at Parallel 37. As Shar pointed out, if you don’t really feel like eating but have to make yourself, you might as well do it at an award-winning restaurant.
Sure enough, I started out thinking I’d be lucky to gag down yogurt, and in no time I was polishing off scrambled eggs, breakfast potatoes, and smoked salmon. When my eyes weren’t on my plate, they were on the wood grain of the tabletop or the subdued grays and greens of the tree mural across one of the walls. Looking at Dan and Shar was just too hard right now.
The restaurant had been too crowded to talk in, even if we had felt like it. Once fueled up, we headed back to the Weavers’ room to talk strategy. At that point Gavin said his good-byes and headed home.
I knew he couldn’t stay with us, and we had no right to ask, but I was sad to see him go, anyway. I think part of him wanted to keep helping, but it was already Saturday morning, and his parents expected him back by Sunday afternoon. Unlike with us, there was no way to alibi him, and not much he could do in the next day.
“Maybe Gavin has the right idea,” said Mr. Weaver. “You are all putting yourselves in too much danger.”
“I’ve had that argument with Tal,” said Mrs. Weaver. “It isn’t one you’re going to win.”
“You’re all minors—” began Mr. Weaver.
“Who can’t go home,” I pointed out. “Even if we wanted to cut ourselves off from the supernatural completely, I’m not sure we could, but the moment we set foot in Santa Brígida, Vanora will recapture us.”
I could see Mr. Weaver thinking about all the available legal avenues to protect us.
“I know what you’re thinking—figuratively,” I added when his surprised expression suggested he though I actually could read minds. “The courts won’t be of any more help than the police. Like it or not, we’re on our own.”
“Besides, Tal has magic and could track us down easily,” said Dan. “If he hasn’t appeared or at least sent a message, it’s because he can’t. The same is true of Carla and Nurse Florence. We don’t know what’s happening with anyone else. For all we know, we may be the only ones who can find them.”
“All right,” said Mr. Weaver, sounding defeated. “I just have one question then. Why hasn’t God helped out?”
As insane as that question sounded, it actually made sense from what we had told Mr. Weaver. Now that he bought our story, he knew that while we were fighting Nicneven, we’d had visits from Saint Brendan, Saint Sebastian, and the archangel Raphael, not to mention winning the Holy Grail.
The question agitated David so much he took momentary control of our body without asking, but, forgetting to channel my English, he only succeeded in unsettling everyone with a rant in ancient Hebrew.
“Sorry,” I said, taking control from my now apologetic past-life persona. “David wanted to point out that God helps in ways we aren’t always aware of. Considering the amount of danger we faced, it was a miracle just to get to San Francisco.”
“Meaning no disrespect,” said Mr. Weaver, adapting more quickly than I would have expected, “but the aid seemed to have been much more…obvious before.”
“Just as magic has rules, it may be that divine intervention has rules as well,” I said, “but I doubt that’s one set of rules we’ll ever know enough to figure out. Last time, Nicneven pretended to be an emissary from Saint Sebastian to trick Jimmie, and that gave Saint Sebastian the freedom to intervene—he actually told us that. I’d speculate that some of the intervention may have also come from having Asmodeus in the mix.”
“From Tal’s conversation with Saint Brendan, it sounds as if God and his emissaries normally restrain themselves in the interest of preserving our free will and giving us the opportunity to grow,” added Dan.