Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free

by Randy Henderson

  We had an hour to kill before I was to meet Reggie. Per Dawn’s plan, we kissed in front of the waterfall long and passionately, at least until the unhappy looks from passing families made us grin at each other and wander off to explore the paths and displays on the history of the falls, the power plants, and the Snoqualmie tribes to whom the land was held sacred.

  The time of simply being a happy couple came to an end, and time to face my choice arrived. We walked to the restaurant and gift shop that overlooked the falls. The place looked nothing like I remembered. It had been completely remodeled shortly after my exile, replacing its old rustic charm with a more “upscale lodge” look. Oak wood support and ceiling beams framed honey-colored walls, tasteful art displays, and items for sale.

  I felt a bit lost.

  “Ready?” Reggie said behind me, making me jump.

  “Hey!” I said. “Uh, yeah, one sec.”

  I gave Dawn a last long kiss, PDA rules be damned, and held her tight. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered to her.

  “You’d better,” she replied, her voice thick. We stepped apart, and she cleared her throat. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she said to Reggie.

  Reggie shrugged. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Dawn nodded, and headed toward the exit. She glanced back when she reached the door, and said, “Have fun storming the castle.” And then she was gone.

  “Come on,” Reggie replied. “We only have a small window between shifts.”

  He led me downstairs and to a door with a security keypad on the handle. From his jacket pocket, he pulled the now-familiar black blindfold with thaumaturgic symbols sewn in silver thread across it.

  “Sorry, Finn. I need you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” I sighed, and slid it over my head, covering my eyes and dulling my arcana senses.

  I heard Reggie punch in a code on the door lock. “This way,” he said, and guided me with a hand behind my shoulder.

  We walked a short distance, then stopped, and Reggie said, “Aperire Ostium.”

  I heard the grinding of a door opening in concrete or stone, and then we proceeded.

  The air grew instantly cool, and smelled like a spice cabinet where all the spices had long ago gone stale. We were descending beneath the lodge, into the ancient network of tunnels and caves that ran behind the waterfall. We took several turns, and at one point the roar of the waterfall and chilly blanketing of mist on my skin told me we passed the original “hidden” entrance to the tunnels; then the sound of a metal door opening, and the ground became smooth. We’d entered the more recently built tunnels of the Regional ARC Headquarters, an underground, multi-floored complex of concrete and steel.

  The ARC complex held a number of departments: Department of Mana Management (typically called MaMa, especially by those who felt the department was like an overbearing mother); the Department of Arcana Justice that oversaw the enforcers; the Department of Magic Administration that approved new spells, potions, and artifacts and said what magic usage was legal versus illegal; and many more, including, obviously, the Department of Interdepartmental Cooperation, and the Department of Department Departmentalization and Administration. And then there were fun little features like the Crucible, the small amphitheater-style courtroom where they had sentenced me to exile twenty-five years and three months ago, or the rumored “Cruelcible” dungeon where the more dangerous criminals were questioned.

  Reggie led me down several flights of stairs, through a couple more doors, and finally said, “Okay. You can take off the blindfold.”

  I blinked against the lights, and took in what looked a bit like my father’s basement thaumaturgy laboratory, but five times the size and, if appearances were any indication, joint-funded by DARPA, the NSA, and George Lucas’s Industrial Light & Magic.

  A woman stood blinking at me through bottle-thick glasses, her hair a wild silver nest held in place by pens; her lab coat had a giant ink stain on the pocket that was matched by a small smear on her nose.

  It took me a second, but I recognized her. During one of the many visits I’d had here after learning of Alynon’s presence, she’d suggested the possibility of using a modified brain scanner to magically dissect my brain and identify exactly how I’d managed to “trap” a Fey spirit without being susceptible to his commands or influence on my body.

  “Uh, Reggie?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Hi,” the lady said. “I’m Verna. I—oh, wait, he can hear us. One second.”

  “Reggie?” I asked again.

  “Just be patient,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”

  So why did his voice hold a slight edge of doubt?

  Verna fumbled around in a cabinet for a second, then another cabinet, and finally pulled out what looked like a Mr. Microphone with a series of crystals and wires stuck along the outside. She then grabbed an old radio boom box off a nearby shelf, and set it down on a lab counter near me.

  “What—?” I began, but she raised a warning finger and shook her head, then turned on the radio and adjusted the dial until soft static hissed out of the speakers. She scurried across the room, and looked at me, her manner excited.

  “Hello,” she said, or rather, she spoke softly into the microphone, and her voice came out of the radio.

  “Uh, hi?” I replied loud enough for her to hear me.

  “If I’m right,” she said, “your Fey should not be able to hear what I’m saying, as it is resonating at a frequency that is painful for Fey spirits.”

  *Ahhh!* Alynon said. *What’s she trying to do, serenade a fax machine?*

  “Is it working?” Verna asked.

  “Well,” I replied, “either it’s working, or he’s faking a reaction.”

  Verna made a “darn it” fist in the air, and said loud enough that I could hear her without the microphone, “Stupid, Verna, stupid. I should have asked him to describe the result, not tell him what was expected.” She sighed, then spoke into the microphone again. “Well, we shall just have to hope it is working, I guess. Reginald tells me you want to see if your control over your Fey guest would carry over into the Other Realm. I think this would be an excellent experiment. The potential of your unique situation as a way to travel the rainbow roads again, or explore the Demesnes—” She shook her head. “Of course, I’m sure the ARC will find some way to use it as a weapon, but there’s no helping that if we’re going to get your pass validated.”

  I turned to Reggie. “What is she talking about?”

  *She’s talking?* Alynon asked.

  Reggie cleared his throat. “It’s not like getting passage into the Other Realm is an easy thing. You haven’t committed a crime worth exile, and as far as the ARC is concerned, there is no imminent threat to the Pax or arcana security that would warrant sending a special ambassador over, and you would not be their first choice of ambassador anyway. So—”

  “An experiment?” I asked. “Is this really the only way? To shoot me off into the Other Realm like a monkey in a space capsule?”

  *If the jumpsuit fits—* Alynon said.

  “We tried monkeys, once,” Verna said. “Or rather, chimpanzees. Given their higher cognitive function, both we and the Fey wanted to see what would manifest, and whether the Fey could feed on their memories.”

  “What happened?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “It failed,” she said. “The chimpanzees lacked whatever higher function allows humans to retain their identity and adapt to the Other Realm. Though, surprisingly, one did manifest a copy of Hamlet. Still,” she said, her voice becoming excited again, “that did give us the opportunity to advance our brain resonance scanning technology. You know, since you’re going to be technically comatose while your spirit is visiting the Other Realm, I was hoping we could revisit the possibility of doing some scans? Well, comatose assuming your changeling doesn’t just remain here and regain control of your body, but even then—”

  “No!” I said, the
n continued in a calmer voice, “I appreciate your wanting to help, but I’d rather not have anyone poking around in my head when I’m not home.”

  *What is this noise?* Alynon demanded. *It’s like electric bagpipes set to overload!*

  I don’t hear it, I replied honestly.

  *You are clearly holding a conversation without me, which is rude enough, but if you’re talking about trying to zap me out of your brain then I really should be part of the conversation!*

  You’re not going to get zapped, Scott Fey-o. Just relax for a second and trust me.

  Verna sighed. “Very well,” she said. “But I must say, very disappointing. We really have worked out the bugs. Or most—”

  A knock on the lab door, and it opened. An enforcer led Silene inside, blindfolded and collared.

  “Wait,” I said. “What’s she doing here?”

  The enforcer removed Silene’s blindfold, and she gave him an irritated glance as he left before saying, “I asked to go with you. This matter affects the brightblood greatly, and our words together are more likely to find fertile soil than yours alone.”

  *She is in for a rude awakening,* Alynon said. *But she could prove helpful. Especially if you—* He stopped.

  If I don’t survive the trip?

  Alynon did not respond.

  Reggie shrugged. “You’re only going to have one shot at this, we should give it the best chance of success.”

  Verna patted at her hair. “Yes, yes. Everyone’s here. We should get moving now. We don’t have much time.”

  “Wait, why is that?” I asked, looking between her and Reggie.

  “Well,” Verna said, and blushed lightly, “the clerk at the Department of Portal Management is a … friend of mine. He may be willing to give me the portal pass if his bosses aren’t around. But we have to get there during their lunch break.”

  “Oh.”

  Verna hurried from the room. Silene followed, and Reggie motioned for me to join them.

  “Don’t I need the blindfold?” I asked stupidly.

  “It’s a short walk,” Reggie said.

  Indeed, we only went a few doors down the same hallway, and into a room that had been divided up into smaller offices. The entrance area formed a small waiting room with a counter. A man perhaps a couple years younger than me sat behind the counter, typing on a computer. He looked up as we entered.

  “Verna! Hello.” He leaned his head to the side to look past the monitor, taking in myself, Silene, and Reggie. “What have we here?”

  “Lucius,” Verna said. “I have a tiny favor to ask.” She glanced toward the offices, then leaned closer and spoke in a voice too low to hear.

  *La! Good for her,* Alynon said. *You see? Even Grandma Verna is getting more action than you. He is at least twenty years her younger, she must truly know how to—*

  Do you mind? I asked. You’re about to go home to the Other Realm, so maybe you could give up harping on the whole sex thing? It’s obviously not going to happen at this point.

  *I don’t know. From where I’m standing, I would bet Verna might give us a quick encounter.*

  Seriously? If I wouldn’t make love to Dawn with you around, what makes you think I’d cheat on her with Verna?

  *I understand why you might not wish me to witness your own woman in such intimacies, but why should you care if I see Verna knocking boots? She clearly has the experience to teach you a few things that would make Dawn happy. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I really think you should explore this idea for your own sake.*

  I’m sure you do.

  *No, truly. Ask her, I’m sure she would say yes, perhaps even perform the act as we are transferring. Tell her it’s an experiment, to see how your body reacts to stimulation before and after transfer, tra la la.*

  You really are unbelievable, I thought.

  *Aw, thanks.*

  Well, thank you for one thing. You’ve actually made me eager to get this over with. I can’t be separated from you soon enough.

  *La! Always happy to help.*

  I sighed. Verna smiled, and gave the clerk, Lucius, a kiss on his cheek.

  Reggie and I both held our persona rings over what looked like a slab of oily gray stone with a cord running from it to Lucius’s computer, and then made Silene place her hand on the same slab. Lucius typed a few things in, printed off a form, and stamped it with a rubber stamp.

  Verna turned to me. “You’ll need to pay the fee.”

  “Fee?” I asked, looking from her to Lucius.

  “Nine hundred ninety-seven,” he said. “Dollars. For processing and administrative fees on two spirit transfers, material costs, etcetera. And two hundred Toths of mana for energy expenses.”

  “Oh,” Verna said. “The mana will come out of my department’s cost code.”

  “Sure,” Lucius said. “So just the nine ninety-seven then.”

  “But—” I sighed. “Never mind. Do you take American Express?” I asked, pulling the necrotorium’s business card out of my wallet.

  “Of course.”

  Five minutes later, I had a receipt and two round-trip tickets to the Other Realm.

  Well, if things went poorly and I didn’t come back, at least I wouldn’t have to explain the credit card bill to Mort. That was not a conversation I felt like having.

  “You’re the best, Lucius,” Verna said as I looked over the receipt and paperwork.

  “Dinner soon?” he asked.

  Verna pushed up her glasses. “That would be groovy. Take care.”

  We left the office, and Verna said, “Well, we can do the transfer from my lab, which is probably for the best if we’re to avoid inconvenient questions and uncomfortable pat downs and such. I have all the necessary equipment. And I have a memory-blocking helmet I’ve been meaning to test out. It should target and block—”

  “Uh, no offense,” I said. “But I don’t want any experimental artifacts messing with my memory.”

  “Oh poo. Fine. I’ll have a sorcerer come down from the Department of Information Management.”

  Thirty minutes later, Silene and I were strapped into reclining chairs, with a slew of medical equipment meant to keep our bodies alive (and a necromancer on call to do the same just in case of equipment failures, Verna assured me), my memories of necromancy training and other sensitive arcana information locked up to prevent the Fey from accessing them illegally or otherwise, and a feeling in my stomach like I’d swallowed a burning chunk of charcoal and then tried to douse it by chugging a jar of pickle water.

  Facing us was a vertical stone ring with an opening the size of a standard window, mounted on a metal stand with rollers. The stone band itself was about six inches thick with runes carved all along it, and what looked like a flux capacitor hanging off of the bottom. A disc of cold iron covered the hole until Reggie lifted it off.

  “Here we go,” Verna said. She struck a crystal hanging in a triangle with a tiny silver hammer, and read an incantation from our travel paperwork.

  Portals between the worlds required coordination and approval from both sides after the establishment of the magical barriers—or a major assault on the barriers that was unlikely to happen short of war. Each portal required what was essentially a password agreed on by both sides, and each password was used only once.

  The stone ring began to hum in a deeper tone sympathetic to the crystal triangle, and purple lightning began to dance within a window on the flux capacitor.

  *Chevron one, locked,* Alynon said, excitement in his voice.

  What?

  *Nothing. La! Perhaps when we reach the other side, I shall be able to gift you all those memories you were to get in our last transfer, and you shan’t be so clueless!*

  I’m beginning to question whether I would’ve wanted those memories, I replied, given your clear obsession with the sexual habits of humans.

  *Me?* Alynon said. *La, I may have been hoping for Vala and SG-1 to find themselves on planet PX-0RG1—*

  The stone r
ing rang like a gong, and a portal opened up within it, a glowing watery view of what appeared to be a room made of white marble.

  “Wait,” I said to Verna. “Where exactly are you sending us?” A few feet in our world could be the equivalent of miles in the Other Realm, or could be inches. The Portal Room in each ARC facility was built to deliver transfers to a specific point in the Other Realm, but there was no knowing how leaving from this room, several floors and who knew how far away, would place us over there.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Verna said. “I built a shunt artifact that should in theory slide you along the quantum substrate on this side before piercing the barriers, so it will be just like leaving from the Portal Room.”

  “In theory?” I asked, panic rising.

  “A strong theory,” she said. “I did the math and alchemical equations myself.”

  She struck the chime again, and my spirit lifted out of my body and flew through the portal, falling forward into the one place I’d hoped never to return.

  Alynon laughed madly the entire way.

  22

  Paradise City

  I opened my eyes. Except they weren’t eyes. They were glowing crystals floating in a body that looked like a semitransparent blob, a life-sized gummy bear left on the dashboard in the sun too long. I was back in the body of an unshaped Fey.

  I looked around me. I stood on what appeared to be a balcony made of granite, with gargoyles crouched in the corners, attached to a curved white wall with gargoyles crouched in the corners. An open arch led from the balcony inside, though I was at a bad angle to see through it. And beyond the balcony lay the chaos of the unshaped Other Realm’s unshaped wildlands, where the sky and land melted together in a shifting rainbow mess I imagined must be like watching Fantasia through a prism after eating acid-laced Fruity Pebbles.

  Two more blobs began to move on the balcony beside me. The first took on the same semihuman shape as my own. But the other shimmered, and truly transformed.

  Within seconds, the second blob became a naked man who looked like Ziggy Stardust’s taller, even more beautiful and decidedly fit brother, his hair flowing in metallic silver waves past his shoulders. He looked down at himself, and spun around with a loud “Whoop!”