by A. J. Aalto
No shit. “This guy gave it to me,” I said, digging out my phone, and angling it to show her my covert picture of Beau.
“Oh, him.” She sighed, shaking her head. “How the hell did he convince you to come?”
“I’m easily tricked,” I confessed.
“Elyse was never supposed to bring mundane humans here. Ugh.” She flicked a disgusted look towards Umayma and then at me. “Especially not him. He made enemies. Said horribly inappropriate things about our attire and our mating practices. Vulgar and awful. Elyse was so stupid. He wanted to mate with a mare, and we don’t do that outside a commitment. You can’t just ask a centaur for sex. He was an ignoramus. The Council was going to take her trumpet away and give it to Fred.”
She gave me a long look like I should know how bad that was, so I said, “Oh no, not Fred!”
“Not if I had anything to do with it,” Tari assured me. “Fred’s not responsible enough to hold a trumpet. I told Elyse to go pawn in some small backwater town, thinking no one would play it any of the right spots. Who would go there?”
“Beau did.”
“And Jonah told him to fuck off, so it was fine,” Tari said, motioning towards our chariot driver, who trod slowly among the games of chance. “Jonah refused Beau transport, and then chewed me out about Elyse and the trumpet. Boy, did I get a tongue-lashing about that one.”
I was having a hard time keeping up with the half-equine soap opera, so I tried to loop back to familiar territory. “How did Elyse meet Beau in the first place?”
“He does this funny podcast called Bagged & Tagged: Monsters I’ve Fucked.”
Eeeeeeuuuuuuwww. My face scrunched without my permission.
She said defensively, “We all thought it was satire! Personally, I found it hilarious. We listened for months. Elyse and I both emailed him a few times. But she brought him here. I told her not to.”
Email? Umayma signed. I shrugged. I wondered what sort of internet they used here and couldn’t wrap my head around it. I didn't even want to try and guess how they got cell reception.
Tari was either ignoring us, or too wrapped up in complaining to notice the exchange. “We realized fairly quickly that he was genuinely a horrible person, and Elyse tried to extract herself. He was having none of that. He’d already had her, see, but he wanted her to hook him up with someone here. He was dead set on humping a centaur.” She shuddered.
“Elyse isn't a centaur?” I asked, but Tari continued on like she didn’t think the answer was relevant.
“And he didn’t want to hear anything but yes,” she said. “With that and the commotion at the carnival, she broke it off, and then….”
I stayed quiet while Tari wrestled with words. She continued, “Then Elyse got sick. You know, ‘noids catch human germs very easily. You're kind of disgusting, actually.” The half-human, half-horse woman didn't have it in her to look sheepish.
I noted her use of ‘noids and wondered if she meant humanoids, and if “cryptid” or “monster” was more offensive in the centaur community.
“You're filthy creatures, crawling with viruses and bacteria.” She squinted at me for a second, as though noticing something off about me, but then shook her head. “And we catch your crap way too easily. Elyse was asked to leave and not come back unless she was clean. She took it hard. She packed her trumpet and her orb, and off she went. I guess she gave up on the idea of coming home, or she wouldn’t have ditched her things.”
“How is she not being noticed in town, if she’s a…?” I let it hang, fishing.
Tari blinked at me like my train was off its tracks. “Well, she’s not walking around in her ‘noid form. She’s in human form.” I heard the implied duh loud and clear. “And it’ll be extremely hard for her to regain her health if she’s using her energy to remain human, especially right now, what with the moon’s phase.”
Lycanthrope? “The orb. Where did it come from?”
“They’re common, here. Centaurs do not tolerate demons.”
“Who makes them?” I figured they’d sell like hotcakes back home, at least in certain circles.
Tari’s hooves stamped with disapproval. “You don't get to know that, but I suppose you can keep the one I assume you have now, seeing you already have her trumpet.” She grimaced. “Just don’t go flashing it around.”
“I won't. It's safe in, uh, a safe, actually. How can I help Elyse?” I asked, making a memo in my phone to research different types of cryptids in human form, and a quick note about the orb.
“You could find her and help her get well, then bring her back. The Council will let her. She doesn’t have to stay away. She just needs to be clean. Herd immunity, you know?”
I bite my tongue hard, nodding. Then I said, “What about the trumpet?”
“Keep it. Maybe you’ll get some use out of it, but I wouldn’t become a regular visitor. And don’t bring humans with you.” She was clearly trying to hide her distaste. I could feel Maim bristle.
“Gotcha,” I said. “So, are we still in, or, um, under Colorado?”
She threw her head back and laughed, a high, lovely, whinnying sound. “Does this look like Colorado to you?”
Maybe the eastern edge of the state, where the foothills of the Rockies rose up from the western edge of the Great Plains, but that was hundreds of miles from Shaw's Fist. I shook my head bemusedly, thinking of an old Ray Bradbury story about a carnival that sprang up from something like a parallel world, and a bit of rhyme that went along with it. By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. That chilled the amusement right out of me. “If Beau reclaims the trumpet, what'll happen?”
“Not much. He won’t get a chariot-man to bring him across. He’s blacklisted.” She eyeballed me. “Jonah shouldn’t have brought you, either. Usually, it’s ‘noids only. Unless…” She cocked her head and studied my face, then Umayma’s, sniffed at us, and then shrugged. “Whatever. Jonah’s call. But if the Elders catch you with it, they’ll confiscate it.”
“That might be the best idea, really.”
“Take it away with you. They’ll only give it to Fred. That won’t be better than Elyse having it, trust me.”
“I’ll do my best to find her and let her know. Maybe I can help her heal,” I said, looking around at the stands. “Um, could I get some cotton candy?”
Tari’s lips curled up slightly and turned to lead us there. “Pink or blue?”
“They’ve always tasted the same to me,” I said, following her to the stand, Umayma poking my elbow. I glanced at her and she spelled out blue. “Two blue ones, please.”
After getting our candy and some of our answers, we strolled back to the side of the lake where we’d arrived and sat on the ground side by side, enjoying our treat and watching centaurs with shared awe. We both knew this was a rare and incredible event, and that we’d probably never be back. After a while, I noticed that there were several lycanthropes in the crowd, and it occurred to me that I’d never confirmed what, exactly, Elyse was, just that she wasn’t human. I changed my mind about never returning. Maybe, if I was unlucky enough to be infected, I might consider the centaur carnival a silver lining. I’d be more accepted among the centaurs than by humans, most likely.
Maim tapped her wrist where a watch might be.
I nodded. “Yeah, we should probably get back. We need to find Elyse and deliver Tari’s message. Hopefully, whatever she’s sick with, I can help. Then she can come home.” It bothered me that Tari considered Elyse “unclean,” but I wasn’t here to change the centaur culture or mindset. Maybe Elyse didn’t want to come back. That would be her decision. It was my job to let her know it was still a possibility. I looked down at the trumpet, very glad I’d taken the chance to toot it. I could have trapped an innocent person inside a musical instrument at the behest of a peanut butter-slurping pervert.
It was too bad the rhino-dicked unicorn cosplayer John Spicer had pretended to be had been arrested after nearly getting torn apart by his ow
n zombies, because he might have shown Beau the same good time he tried to show me, all fourteen blotchy inches of it. They could trade cases of Corpse Pox and porn blogs while they were at it.
I blew the trumpet briefly but with no more skill, and watched Jonah, our blank-faced charioteer, return; I gave him a little finger wave.
“Home, Jeeves!” I quipped.
He stared me down until I apologized, after which I climbed into the chariot and offered a hand to Umayma to help her step up. I was not looking forward to the return trip through the bottom of the lake and into the sky, the rollercoaster-like lift in my guts as we plunged back down, but it wasn’t as jarring on the return trip, probably because we knew what was coming. When I climbed down from the chariot, my legs weren’t nearly as wobbly and Maim’s eyes weren’t full of shock.
That, unfortunately, was short-lived.
Chapter 19
As soon as the centaur disappeared into the forest, we could hear shouting in the distance, and the mad barking of many dogs. It was pitch black, the kind of complete darkness only offered by deep country on a starless night. In the distance, though, through the trees, were beams of near-blinding light. One of the shouts was calling my name repeatedly, but the voice was unfamiliar. Another few voices were calling for Umayma. The Blue Sense washed over me intensely with concern and confusion, but above all that, the overwhelming calm of my Cold Company. Harry was here.
I tromped through the dark woods, pushing through brush toward the light, feeling Umayma’s hand on my shoulder for support as we tripped over roots and logs and branches and brush. Limbs thwapped and clutched at us, even as we lurched towards the search party. The darkness in the woods lightened as we got closer and I could make out the shape of tall Klieg lights and headlights from cars crammed into the small clearing. We found the guardrail and stumbled into the mad scene of a multi-department squad organizing and spreading out. I threw one gloved hand in front of my eyes to protect them from the glare.
I spotted de Cabrera just as he spotted us, and he barked for someone to let the sheriff know we were here. Just behind him, Harry was sitting on the hood of Umayma’s car, calming smoking a menthol cigarette and watching me flail my way out of the woods. He didn’t hop down to meet me, but waited for me to come to him.
I sensed his amusement through the Bond as he announced, “Much as I indicated to you fine ladies and gentleman of law enforcement yesterday, she’s perfectly fine and in the area. Et voila! My pet has returned as I promised you she would.”
Elian made a beeline toward me. “If you’re good, and you can walk, you better bail quick. Hood’s apoplectic and Chapel’s clucking like he’s about to lay eggs.”
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded. “What is all this? I’m off the radar for two hours and you guys call out the K-9 units?”
“Two hours?” Golden exploded directly behind me, causing me to whip around with prepared battle-fists. “You’ve been missing since yesterday afternoon.”
“Yester-what? Harry?” I asked, gaping.
He just smiled. “I wasn’t worried in the least. I felt you right here, alive and well, if a little blurry. I am, however, dying of curiosity, my pipistrelle. Where in the world have you--”
“Where the fuck have you been?” Morgan Sally bellowed. It was really impressive, actually, coming from a skinny dude like that. He'd probably been a star in his church choir if he had that kind of projection, but this didn't seem like the right time to ask. I turned to watch him stride over, with Hood and Chapel beside him. The rush of relief from them was flattering but overwhelming.
“Do you mind lowering your voice, deputy?” Hood said calmly, though his swampy green eyes said he wanted to demand answers, too. “Are you two all right?”
Chapel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You had us somewhat alarmed, Marnie, Umayma...”
“Well, there’s something very weird going on, because it felt like we were gone about two hours. Of course, our trip might have been… longer than it seemed?” I searched Umayma’s face for answers but she was as baffled as I was. “Sorry? Everything’s fine. If I’d known it would be a long trip, I’d have given Harry more of a heads-up. Promise.”
Harry stood, rolled his shoulders to loosen some imagined stiffness, and announced, “I’ll take my leave so that you may brief your officers on your recent adventures, shall I?” He paused to pat me on the head, and said, “Now that you’re able to eat cookies again, I’ve baked several dozen meringues in anticipation of your return, pet.”
His recipe, an old French one that his first DaySitter, Marie-Pierrette, once favored, took hours. I could picture him anxiously whipping egg whites in our kitchen, and I felt like a dumbass. I didn't miss the little barb about eating cookies again; “Now that Batten is gone,” had been left unspoken. “Sorry, Harry. Really.”
He nodded once to accept this, and smiled brilliantly for SSA Chapel. “Please have her home before midnight, gentlemen. As one might expect, I am positively famished, and I should hate for her to turn into a pumpkin.”
He popped on his bright red Kawasaki and settled his motorcycle helmet before roaring away. The night swallowed him quickly once he was beyond the glare of the Kliegs.
I sighed and turned to face the music. I met half a dozen expectant eyeballs. “I’m fine, we’re fine. We were following a lead.”
I gave them a quick rundown, being as discrete about the centaurs' secrets as I could, and when I couldn’t say more, the Blue Sense reported their frustration and their relief mingling. Eventually, Umayma sagged under the weight of being awake and repeatedly surprised for so many hours; the temporal weirdness was beginning to catch up to us, and here in the forest, our bodies started to feel the thirty hours that had passed. Agent de Cabrera was rounded up to drive Umayma home in her car with Golden following. My energy was flagging as well, so Hood offered me a lift. I slogged to his Hulkmobile and hauled my sorry ass up and in, dragging my backpack behind me and tucking it at my feet.
He backed into a tight wall of brush, did a three-point turn, and headed down the dark, tree-lined tunnel of dirt road, doing his best to avoid the giant pot holes and ridges left in dried mud less out of the Hummer's ability to negotiate them than a desire not to jostle me unnecessarily. For a while, he drove without speaking, and we listened to the squawk of various law enforcement communications on his radio.
“Sorry if I was crowding you,” he said finally.
I let out a rush of air. “No, I overreacted, I’m touchy. I’m sorry. It’s me. I can’t believe I actually bitched at you.”
“It’s a rough time,” he said. “You going tomorrow?”
I knew he meant the funeral, and I had made up my mind to go, but a rush of unhappiness flooded my belly at the very notion, and I wavered. “Not sure. I should. I know I should. I just reeeeealllly don’t wanna. I’d like to go to sleep tonight and wake up Sunday, or Monday, or sometime in June, maybe.”
He snort-laughed softly. “Yeah, I get it, Mars.”
I wondered if there had been any sort of memorial the first time Chief Deputy Neil Dunnachie disappeared and had been presumed dead; if there had, I hadn’t been told. Hood would have been there to support Paula, Neil’s wife. I had no doubt about that. But what about the second time Dunnachie died? Zombie Dunnachie had been exploded on my front lawn, specifically by me with a propane canister assist. Had there been a memorial then? Had Hood had a second, private, mourning? These were questions I didn't have the starch to ask. The silence passed through awkward and into more comfortable, and I even dozed off briefly once we got back onto paved roads.
Eventually, he pulled into my driveway, turned the truck off, and sat there for a second, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. Then he used one hand to rub his tired face. There was the uncharacteristic rasp of calluses on two days' stubble.
“Glad you’re okay,” he finally uttered, instead of a hundred other things he might have wanted to say. I Felt his conflicte
d feelings crowding the truck around me, but he kept them to himself, and I was very grateful for it.
And this is the problem, I saw. Rob Hood has begun to notice that he may have feelings for you, and he also knows that you do not share those feelings. Even if you did, this is hardly the time to explore them. I wondered when they'd started, since I surely hadn’t noticed before. Had I been leaning on him too much? We’d always only been friends. If I ignored them, would they just go away? Even exhausted and frazzled as I was, my powers of self-delusion weren't that good. Shitpickles.
He drummed a bit more and said, “Probably not a good idea to work out tomorrow before the funeral, especially coming back from this kind of exhaustion. Why don’t we pick up again after a few days off, give us both a break? That is, if you’re not sleeping until June?”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said. “I’m sorry if I caused a lot of work and concern. I could, I dunno, pay you back for whatever you spent on donuts and coffee for the rescue party or something?”
He frowned at that, like my words hadn’t quite captured the spirit of what was happening during my mysterious absence, but he didn’t correct me. He nodded.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be tough,” he said.
I hesitated, thinking I should apologize again for yelling at him, but the awkwardness in the car was solidifying into an almost palpable weight, and the Blue Sense reported that he really wanted to be rid of me for the moment. I nodded noncommittally, grabbed my bag, and fled to the house.
Chapter 20
The cabin was filled with the interior glow of lamplight and a cozy fire. I sensed through the Bond that Harry felt my approach to the front door with some relief, and wondered if he hadn’t read all his texts. That would be odd for Harry, who loved his technology. He was no more able to ignore an incoming message alert than I was able to pass up a chance to snarf a shot of espresso.