Music to My Sorrow

by Mercedes Lackey

  It wasn't the most comfortable ride Eric had ever gotten from his elvensteed. Even though there was no engine in the engine-compartment so he actually had somewhere to put his legs (and so did Kayla) it was still like being crammed into Big Pink's trunk. With the driver's seat pushed all the way forward to give the three jammed into the Citroen's miniscule back seat as much room as possible—and one of them was Hosea, who was not a small man—he felt as if the steering wheel was going to wear a groove in his hips, just to begin with. Plus, there was the fact that he was freezing: Lady Day's version of the Citroen's heating system was, Eric suspected, far better than the real thing, but even though it was turned up full-blast, it couldn't quite compensate for the fact that March was not convertible weather here on the Jersey Shore.

  If Kayla weren't a touch-Empath, it would have made more sense for her to have been in the back seat with Ace and Magnus, but as wound up as the two of them were, Eric was sure it was pushing the limits of her shields just to be this close to them. Sitting in their laps would have been intolerable. And unfortunately, she wasn't wearing anything that would actually insulate her from them. He vowed to get her a set of silk long johns as soon as possible.

  While neither Ace nor Hosea were complaining, Magnus was more than making up for their silence. And, sad as it was, the wind of their travel was not drowning him out, not completely. According to Magnus, the trunk of the Cadillac had been roomier.

  At least, sandwiched between Hosea and Ace, he didn't have to worry about freezing, though of the five of them, he was the only one not dressed for the weather. Eric had been kidnapped from the back of his bike; Kayla had been out walking Molly when she'd jumped into Lady Day's saddle; and both Ace and Hosea had been wearing winter coats when they'd had to make a run for it, but Magnus had been kidnapped out of his classroom at Coenties and Arundel, and all he was wearing was his school blazer (the tie had gotten lost somewhere along the way).

  However, when Magnus was complaining about things, Eric had long since learned, he wasn't either particularly hurt or particularly upset, and Eric let his brother's griping go pretty much in one ear and out the other while he worried about more immediate—and more urgent—problems. It was probably Magnus's way of coping with things. Ace wasn't telling him to shut up, so she must have gotten used to it.

  Besides the discomfort of all of the passengers, he could feel Lady Day's uneasiness as well. The strain of carrying five passengers (and a dog, Eric footnoted mentally) was telling on her. Elvensteeds were enormously strong, and had incredible stamina, but they had peculiar limitations as well. Maybe it did have something to do with the fact that he wasn't Sidhe. She could run as a bike from here to the coast and back, but stretching into this form was draining her. No matter how much he wanted to get back to Atlantic City quickly—and no matter how convenient it would be for all of them (if cramped) if they could simply drive there in Eric's elvensteed, he had to let Lady Day revert to her elvenbike form as soon as possible. And evidently, in this shape, she couldn't ramp up to the warp-speed that would get them there in minutes.

  He found an exit and took it, anxious for her, anxious to get back to the Ministry, anxious—hell, beginning a quiet panic—about what they'd find when they got there. Fortunately, the on-ramp for the northbound GSP was clearly marked, and almost as soon as they got on, he saw a sign for a rest stop a couple of miles ahead. Food Gas, it said. Presumably the former wouldn't give you the latter.

  That's it. We'll have to find another way from here.

  They pulled into the rest stop. Fortunately, at this hour of the morning—not even seven yet, and on a Friday—the place was fairly deserted. Eric was relieved to see that it was a "full service" stop with the usual road food places: a Nathan's, a TCBY/Dunkin' Donuts, and a McDonald's, in addition to the gas-station mini-mart. The world might be coming to an end, but he really couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, and his stomach was assuring him it was more than time to fuel up. And if he felt that way, the teenagers—and certainly Hosea, who ate more than anyone he'd ever seen before—must be feeling as if their stomachs were in too-close proximity to their backbones.

  "Everybody out," he said. He pulled out his wallet and handed Magnus several twenties as soon as his brother had squirmed free of the back seat. "Go get some breakfast."

  Magnus didn't have to be told twice. He took the cash and headed for the Mickey D's. The others followed. Come rain, come shine, come the end of the world, a teenager was going to want fries and a coke.

  Kayla stayed behind, proving that her teenage years were behind her—somewhat. "What about you, Bard-boy?"

  "Gonna see a man about a bike," Eric said.

  * * *

  Lady Day was perfectly capable of driving on her own, but just because the rest stop was mostly deserted didn't mean it was completely deserted, and he didn't really want an audience for what was about to happen. Eric drove around the back of the buildings, looking for more privacy.

  He got out of the Citroen, and almost before he could close the tiny clown-car door, Lady Day shuddered and resumed her preferred form. Eric would have been willing to swear that the elvensteed gave an audible sigh of relief at the transformation. He patted her gas-tank sympathetically. "I'm sorry, girl," he said apologetically. "We'll find another ride. I won't put you through any more of that."

  But now what? They were stuck in a rest stop a long way from Atlantic City without any practical way of getting back there quickly. Certainly Eric could call Ria from here and see if she could get a car to them, but the same things that had kept him from asking her to do that back where they'd been stranded still held. Getting a car to them would probably take hours, and Eric suspected they didn't have hours—either to stay ahead of Gabrevys's hunters, or to do what they could to make sure that what he planned didn't happen. If there was no other way, he'd ferry the others up the Parkway one by one, but he'd really prefer to find another solution. Running Lady Day at warp would probably leave a magical signature, and besides, that would be splitting the party. If there was one thing that bad horror movies and the occasional RPG had taught him—not to mention practical experience—it was this: never, ever, under any circumstances, split up the party. Do that, and the bad guys always got you.

  Maybe something would come to him.

  He left Lady Day parked behind the building and walked back to the McDonald's. When he got there, to his surprise, Kayla was standing out front, Molly cradled in her arms. At his puzzled look, she shrugged.

  "Dogs. Restaurants. Not a good mix. We're not in France, you know, Banyon. Too-Tall said he'd bring us out something, an' there's tables over there. We'll manage."

  "Hey, it's way too cold to eat outside, and I bet Molly's a lot cleaner than half the patrons. I bet if you bring her inside nobody'll notice her." And a touch of Bardic Magick would make certain of it. He winked at her, and raised his eyebrows significantly. "They'll probably look right past her."

  Cellophane, Mister Cellophane, should'a been my name . . .

  Kayla grinned, and Molly panted. "Guess we're in France after all, hotshot."

  Eric held the door for her, and she followed him in. Whoever would have thought that a musical about gangsters would come in so handy?

  Ace was holding down a table while the other two were at the counter ordering for all of them. Eric and Kayla sat down, with Kayla holding Molly on her lap. Just as he'd promised, nobody gave Molly a second glance. In fact, as the song promised, they looked right through her.

  "Is your bike okay?" Ace asked. She must have picked up on his anxiety. Then again, she was a lot more sensitive to body language than the average teenager. Say, Magnus.

  "She's fine," Eric said, and shrugged. "Unfortunately, she can't take the five of us any farther than this. It's just too hard on her."

  When the others arrived at the table with breakfast, they convened an impromptu council of war. First casting a spell, this time using the "Uncle Ernie" song from the Who's musical
Tommy to make certain they couldn't be overheard—though any strangers overhearing their conversation would probably think they were a bunch of gamers—Eric told the others everything he'd learned from Ria.

  "—so while she'll do what she can, she can't be sure that Horn won't be two jumps ahead of her all the way. Or that the whole thing isn't some sort of long, complicated Unseleighe trap to rope Ace in," Eric finished. He shook his head. "That's the trouble with dealing with the Unseleighe. Everything is complicated with them, and they've had centuries to learn how to make really tortuous plans."

  "So it might just all be up to us, is what you're saying," Kayla said, looking both discouraged and stubborn at the same time.

  "Could be," Eric answered reluctantly. He hated the fact that this was the only answer he had to give, but it was. Sitting here, in this utterly normal place, he had absolutely no idea how he and Hosea could possibly find Prince Gabrevys's bomb and neutralize it, let alone solve all the other problems that an Unseleighe Prince who'd become the best buddy of a power-mad televangelist cozying up to a bunch of White Supremacists represented. If this was a TV show, Ria and her private army would be showing up about now. Instead we've got two teenagers, a couple of musicians and an Empathic Healer. And not one of us is a MacGyver.

  He supposed they'd have to wing it. As usual. He was getting awfully tired of the universe throwing its problems at him and expecting him to solve them.

  "So all we have to do is actually get back there," Hosea said. "And right smartly at that, since the concert's going to start around noon, from what Mr. Horn told me. Pity it's a mite too far to walk in the time we have." His brows furrowed as he spoke; he wasn't being ironic. Eric had the feeling that he was perfectly prepared to try to hoof it back.

  "An' too bad we've all got such high moral principles we can't just steal a car—not that there's all that many of them around here to boost just now," Kayla added. "Of course, the fact that none of us know how to hotwire anything that isn't fifteen years old probably doesn't help." She raised an eyebrow at Eric. "Unless that Bardic magic can disable a car alarm and get it moving without a key?"

  "Not without knowing a lot more about cars than I do," he admitted. "The magic can only do what I tell it to, and I have to know what I'm doing first."

  "So how are we going to get there now that your ride's punked out on us?" Magnus asked.

  There was an awkward silence. The best answer Eric had been able to come up with so far was riding to the nearest town and renting a car—only he didn't know where the nearest town with a rental place was, or how long it would take. "Rent something?" He had a vague recollection of a rental company that came to pick you up . . . if only he could remember which one it was. And if there was one close enough.

  "Well," Ace said, "can't we just hitchhike back?"

  The others stared at her in surprise.

  "Five of us?" Kayla asked doubtfully.

  And a dog, Eric thought. Don't forget the dog.

  "That's got to be one of your dumber ideas," Magnus finally said. Ace's face hardened, but her expression was the kind that a tough little girl took on when she'd been hurt. Eric tried to kick him under the table, but he couldn't reach him.

  "We can ask," Ace said stubbornly, her chin set. "We can do that." She got to her feet and walked out. "How's it hurt?"

  "Time to drain the dog," Kayla said instantly, and followed, Molly in her arms. Considering that Molly'd made a second breakfast off most of an Egg McMuffin plus a whole hash brown patty, Eric thought walking the dog might be a really, really good idea. Not to mention that it would be a good idea for someone to go with Ace.

  Hosea gave Eric one of those meaningful-yet-inscrutable looks the Ozark Bard was so very good at and said he'd see if Ace needed any help.

  That left Eric alone with Magnus. And from Magnus's sullen expression, he was pretty sure Magnus thought he was in for a lecture on manners.

  Only Eric had gotten every lecture in the mythical book on manners himself—from his parents. And if he'd gotten them, Magnus had certainly gotten them. Probably twice over, since the 'rents had figured they hadn't filled Eric's ears nearly enough.

  So he wasn't going to do that.

  "If you don't like her any more, you don't have to see her again once we get back to New York," he said instead, pretending that he thought Magnus's rudeness was due entirely to dislike rather than teenage-male stupidity. Oh yeah. I remember being that stupid. "Just try to hold it together until then—I mean, assuming we all live that long—because she's had it pretty rough lately. She could stand a lot of kindness about now, or I think she might crack up on us." And if she goes to pieces, I'm not actually sure I can put her back together. And for that matter, if she goes to pieces in a Talented kind of way, she could take the rest of us with her without much problem, from what I've seen so far. "I know things have been rough on you, too, but—well," he shrugged. "You're a guy. You're tough."

  That actually got Magnus's attention. "Don't like her?" he said, surprised, then demanded. "Why wouldn't I like her?"

  "I don't know," Eric said carefully—Magnus's emotions ran close to the surface at the best of times, and they'd been rubbed especially raw by the news that his parents had hired Unseleighe Mages—knowingly or not—to turn him into a mindless vegetable. "But it's possible that she might have just gotten the idea that you don't like her. I've done a lot more dating than you have—" Kathi, and Traci, and Donna, and just before he got mixed up with Kory, there'd been the spectacular melt-down with Maureen "—and the one thing I know for sure about ladies of any age is that they kind of hate being called 'stupid.'"

  Magnus thought that over for a while, while he finished the extra-large chocolate shake he'd ordered to go with breakfast. "I didn't call Ace 'stupid,'" he finally said. "I said her idea was stupid."

  Eric winced mentally. "Well," he said mildly, "she really might not like that much either right now. And the way she's feeling, well, if you say things like that, she's gonna be oversensitive, and she'll take it to mean you're talking about her."

  "It is a stupid idea," Magnus said stubbornly. "Nobody's going to give a ride to five whackos and a dog."

  "Maybe not," Eric agreed, trying to resist the urge to slug his brother. "I admit it doesn't sound very likely. But Lady Day can't carry the five of us at once, I'm not sure how fast Ria could get a car here—or I could get a car—and I really can't think of anything better right off hand than asking around to see if someone will give us a ride. What's it going to hurt? If that doesn't work, we'll try something else."

  Magnus stared down at the table and began to tear a napkin into tiny strips. Eric had a good idea that Ace's idea of hitching wasn't really the issue here. And in a moment, Magnus confirmed that.

  "They hired those guys," he said quietly. "To suck out our brains and turn us into robot-kid-zombies."

  That was what was really bothering his brother. Eric understood, and sympathized. He himself had had almost two decades to come to terms with how their parents had treated him, so this was only another drop in the bucket. For Magnus, it was different—and much more immediate, in a way.

  "They didn't know what they were doing," Eric said quickly, hoping, in a way, to soften the blow.

  "No, Eric," Magnus said, gazing up at him with those disconcerting green eyes. He sounded chillingly adult, as if it were he, not Eric, who was the many-years-elder. "That's the whole point. They knew exactly what they were doing. What they didn't know was how. They didn't know it was going to involve woo-woo magic and alien brain-eating monsters, sure. I betcha they didn't think too hard about what was going to go on, but if you put a gun to either of their heads and they had to take a wild-ass guess, they'd say, hey, maybe drugs, maybe some new and exciting form of lobotomy-lite. And yeah, kidnapping. We can't forget that. That was in the plan from the start and they knew exactly what they were doing when they signed on for that. But they would have said it was all worth it because it was all going to be so convenient o
nce all the messy stuff was over with. 'Just don't bother me with the inconvenient details that I'll have to work hard to forget later.'"

  The depth of bitterness in Magnus's voice was something Eric had no words for. Had he ever felt such bitterness, such—not even hate, but despair? He didn't think so—no, it seemed to him that he'd been thinking about other things entirely. Fear of the Nightflyers, and fear for his own sanity had trumped everything else. He'd been thinking more about running away—and just plain not thinking—than thinking about his parents. Then he'd been thinking about keeping food in his belly, and then—quite quickly, actually, once he'd discovered the Rennies and the busking in L.A., he'd been mostly thinking about playing music and having sex and getting high, and not necessarily in that order. But Magnus didn't have those things to worry about, and except for that short stint on the streets, never had. He'd been able to concentrate on his relationship with his parents to the exclusion of all else.

  And Eric couldn't say Magnus had drawn the wrong conclusions, either. Their parents had hired Christian Family Intervention to get Magnus back—and not just to get him back, but to return him to them docile and obedient. To return both Magnus and Eric in that condition, in fact. They hadn't asked how CFI was going to accomplish this. They hadn't asked any of the questions that people who cared about anything but their own way would ask.

  And at last, Eric felt—cold. And angry. And for one moment he wanted—

  But no. The anger of a Bard could kill. No matter what they deserved, it wouldn't be his hands that dealt the cards. Karma could come back to bite their asses on its own. The best revenge he could get would be the one he was taking now; to remove himself and Magnus from their control forever, and let them stew in their own juices.

  "Yeah," Eric said softly, "you're right. And that sucks. And the only good thing about any of this is that the fact that they kidnapped you is going to be great for our custody case if we can figure out how to use it. Just . . . don't beat Ace up over it, okay? Watch who's in your backlash. Save it for the people who deserve it. Think how they're gonna look when you tell the judge all about this."