Left Hand Magic

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Left Hand Magic Page 14

by Nancy A. Collins


  “You’ve got a point,” I conceded. I checked the clock over the stove and cursed under my breath. “I better get going, or I’m going to be late.”

  “Do you really have to go?” Hexe frowned. “Can’t you reschedule for another time?”

  “I wish I could,” I explained. “But this bridal salon is by appointment only, and if Vanessa cancels, it might be weeks, even months, before they can fit her in again.”

  “Very well.” Hexe reached inside the pocket of his coat and fished out an amulet on a long gold chain. I recognized it as a gladeye charm like the one he’d given Madelyn, save that this one was shaped like a pyramid. “Take this with you,” he said, placing the amulet around my neck. “It’s to protect you when I’m not around. It will turn aside even the strongest curses and keep you safe from harm—at least of the supernatural variety.”

  “That’s very sweet of you, darling,” I said, tilting the amulet between my thumb and forefinger, so I could look into the artificial eye embedded in its center.

  “You have to wear it against your skin, if it’s to work,” he reminded me.

  “Do you really think I’ll need it?” I asked.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he replied as he lifted the gladeye by its chain and dropped it down my cleavage. “These are strange times, even for Golgotham.”

  I wanted to tell Hexe that he was being overprotective, but from the moment I left the house I was happy to have the gladeye on my person. The mood on the street was positively leprous. As I headed toward City Hall Station, more than one Golgothamite spat on the sidewalk as I passed by. For the first time since relocating to Golgotham, I was genuinely relieved to see the traffic snarling Broadway, which was the demarcation line between it and the rest of Manhattan.

  Suddenly a leprechaun dressed in a green track suit stepped into the middle of the sidewalk, blocking my path. “Here ye go, lassie,” he said, shoving a xeroxed flyer into my hand. “Big rally tonight. Spread the news and bring some friends.” Upon noticing that I had only five fingers, he scowled and moved to snatch the paper back. “On second thought, ne’er ye mind! No numps allowed!” However, I was too fast—and tall—for him, and I held the flyer beyond the leprechaun’s reach. The red-haired fairy made a rude noise, and a ruder gesture, before continuing on his way.

  I frowned at the flyer, which was written in both English and Kymeran and depicted a pentacle, in the center of which was a six-fingered left hand. The caption read GOLGOTHAM IS OURS: KYMERAN UNIFICATION PARTY RALLY AT MIDNIGHT: HODGSON HALL.

  I decided to duck inside the Emerald Spa, a corner newsstand that claimed to carry every magazine published in every known language, plus genuine egg creams and souvenir snow globes of the Gate of Skulls, to get the morning edition of the Golgotham Gazette. As I headed toward the register, a Kymeran woman with moss green hair plaited into a long single braid and coiled atop her head like a rope beehive blocked my path.

  “I told you to stay away from our men, nump,” she snarled. “I guess you don’t listen too good.”

  With a start, I recognized the woman as Dori, one of Hexe’s old girlfriends. The reason I hadn’t noticed her before was that her scent had changed. The first time I’d met her, she smelled of bergamot and white orchids. Now she reeked of ash and black pepper. I could tell she had just come from her stall at the Fly Market, because she was still dressed in her patchwork skirt, the distaff version of the traditional “coat of many colors” that Kymerans wore to indicate they had magic to sell.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, traipsing around Golgotham like you have a right to be here. Do you think you’re safe, simply because Hexe has you in his bed? Is that it? You think that gives you impunity to walk among us, eh? Well, let me tell you, nump, you may think you’re something special, but you’re nothing more than a dalliance for him; a pretty way to pass the time between the sheets—that’s all. Believe me, I know,” she said, flashing a nasty smile. “He was all sweet on me, too—calling me ‘darling’ and ‘dearest.’ He couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

  Dori grabbed her own far-from-insubstantial breasts and began squeezing them to illustrate her point, lewdly grinding her hips against an imaginary lover. I tried to sidestep around her, but she continued to block my path. Every customer at the newsstand was watching us, most of them with amused smirks.

  “Oh, it was good between us. Damn good! Until I had enough of barely covering the rent and decided to make a living with both hands, instead of the one. He didn’t like that, oh no! He’s only with you because you can’t challenge him the way I did. But one day he’ll wake up and realize that a nump like you can never give him what a Kymeran woman can. And when that morning comes, his Serene Highness will kick you out of bed so fast it’ll make your head swim. Do yourself a favor and get the hell out of Golgotham before it’s too late. You don’t belong here—and you certainly don’t belong with him!”

  Like the sailorman says, I’d taken all I could stand, and I couldn’t stand no more. I was sick of people telling me where I did and didn’t belong, where I should and shouldn’t live, and who I could and couldn’t love. If it wasn’t my parents, it was Hexe’s family members—but I’d be damned if I would take it from some green-haired skank in a Deadhead skirt.

  “It seems to me, if he wanted what a Kymeran woman has, he’d still be with one,” I said acidly as I pushed her aside. I threw my money onto the checkout stand without bothering about the change and headed out the door. I did not look back, even though Dori was still screaming after me.

  “You think he’ll make you his consort? Dream on, bitch! When the time comes, he’s going to want someone who can guarantee him a blue-haired, golden-eyed heir! And he won’t pick some chuffin’ nump!”

  I was tired of being embarrassed and worrying about offending those around me, especially since I was going to be hated and distrusted no matter what I did or didn’t do. So I shot her the Kymeran equivalent of the bird— using my ring finger instead of the middle one—and kept on walking.

  I was halfway down the block when I felt something hit me in the chest. It wasn’t hard enough to knock the wind out of me, but just sharp enough to make me wince. A second later there was a sudden heat against my skin, and I realized it was the amulet Hexe had given me.

  I stepped into a nearby doorway and fished the gladeye out from its hiding place between my breasts. The pyramid-shaped amulet was unusually warm, without actually being hot to the touch, and I could see that the artificial eye at its center was now cloudy. I didn’t need Hexe to tell me that it had just diverted a curse with my name on it.

  Chapter 15

  “So—what do you think?” Nessie asked as she exited the dressing room in a gorgeous flowing, off-the-shoulder bridal gown that made her look like a goddess.

  “Hmm—what?” I blinked and gave my head a tiny shake to clear my thoughts. “Oh. Yes. It’s very—white.”

  “I think it looks positively lovely on you,” the personal assistant said, somehow managing to smile while shooting me a Medusa look.

  The bridal salon—excuse me, atelier—that Vanessa had chosen for her wedding gown was one of those Lexington Avenue boutiques where the bride-to-be and her party get the run of the whole store—excuse me, workshop—complete with personal sales assistant, champagne, and hors d’oeuvres. Normally something like this was far outside Nessie’s budget—hand-thrown urns for cremated pets don’t pay that well—but her father had offered to foot the bill, possibly out of lingering Catholic guilt for ditching the first Mrs. Sullivan for a sleeker, younger model during Nessie’s sophomore year in high school.

  The personal assistant was right, though. I deserved that Medusa look. Nessie and I had been looking forward to this afternoon for weeks, and now that it had arrived, I was ruining it by staring off into space and being so distant I might as well be on Mars.

  “Could you excuse us for a few minutes?” Nessie asked politely.

  The personal assistant, an older woman with froste
d hair and horn-rim glasses with a tailor’s tape draped around her neck like a feather boa, removed the half-empty bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. “I’ll bring something a little fresher,” she said with a sigh, and disappeared from the room.

  Vanessa sat down on the chaise lounge beside me and took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “God, I’m so sorry I dragged you to this place. But it was either today or three months from now.”

  “It’s okay, Nessie,” I replied. “I needed to get out of Golgotham anyway. Things are extremely . . . tense down there.”

  “I can just imagine. That video was . . .” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Did they identify the victim?”

  I nodded my head sadly. “His name was Quid. He was a friend of ours.”

  “Oh, Tate—I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t realize! I would have canceled this whole thing if I’d had any idea.”

  “I know you would’ve.” I smiled. “That’s why I didn’t say anything earlier. This is really important to you, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

  Nessie threw her arms around me and gave me a quick hug. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had. And you know I love you like a sister, so don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way—but do you really think it’s a good idea for you to go back there?”

  “Golgotham’s my home, Nessie. Even now, I’m still happier there than I ever was on the Upper East Side. I know you’re worried about me, but so far the only ones getting hurt are Kymerans.”

  “Yeah—so far. Aren’t you afraid of a backlash?”

  “Yes, to tell you the truth, I am,” I admitted. “But I can’t live my life being afraid, Nessie. Besides, Hexe has my back.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it. Still, if it gets too hairy down there, you’re more than welcome to stay with me until things settle down. It’ll be great. We can sit up all night and eat ice cream and make fun of crappy movies, just like we did in college.”

  “What about Adrian? Doesn’t he have something to say about me crashing on his couch?”

  “Him? He can go stay with his brother.” She laughed. “Besides, he’s not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, anyway.”

  “That sounds very tempting, but I’m going to take a rain check. I’m afraid Scratch will do something like stuff Beanie up the chimney or roll him up in a window shade if I’m gone too long.”

  “You and that dog,” Nessie said ruefully. “Every time I check your Facebook page, all I see are photos of Beanie sleeping, Beanie eating, Beanie asleep in his food! You’re going to make a hell of a mom someday.”

  “Bite your tongue!” I laughed. “I’m nowhere near ready for something like that! If there are two things that don’t go together, it’s acetylene torches and diapers. I’ve got my hands full enough as it is with just a gassy Boston terrier and a talking hairless cat. Now, about this gown . . .”

  After trying on several more wedding dresses, and emptying another bottle of champagne, Vanessa finally decided on a strapless Junko Yoshioka with a mermaid skirt, a satin ribbon waist-belt, and a lace shrug. The sales assistant seemed impressed by the final choice—and relieved to be free of us.

  As Nessie climbed into her cab to return home, I promised I would stay safe and out of trouble. Once we went our separate ways, I headed down to the East Village to do a little shopping of my own before going back home.

  It was dusk by the time I emerged from the subway. Normally I make my way home down Perdition Street, through the Gate of Skulls, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk over the spot where Quid’s body had been found, so I headed down Morder Lane instead.

  The first couple of blocks the traffic on the street was fairly heavy, and there were plenty of human faces to be seen, thanks to nearby Witch Alley, but once I put the open-air magic bazaar behind me, those numbers dwindled fast. As I passed the shuttered Two-Headed Calf, I saw the scorched cobblestones that marked where the NYPD’s response vehicle had exploded.

  Upon arriving home, I opened the door to find Hexe putting on his coat.

  “There you are!” he said. “I was just getting ready to leave. How was your afternoon with Nessie?”

  “It was okay,” I replied. “Where are you going?”

  “I got a call from one of my clients; I need to make an emergency house call. You didn’t run into any trouble getting to and from the subway, did you?”

  “Not really,” I replied. I decided not to launch into a retelling of my run-in with Dori. Maybe, after some time had passed, it would mellow into one of those “look back and laugh” incidents, but for the time being it was still too new and unpleasant for me to relish reliving it.

  “That’s good. Still, I’m glad you got back home before it got too late. I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to be out on the streets tonight.”

  “Because of the rally?” I asked, showing him the flyer the leprechaun had handed me.

  Hexe nodded, a disgusted look on his face. “I’m afraid my uncle’s using this Sons of Adam atrocity to push his anti-human agenda.”

  “Are you going to check it out?” I asked. I’d been seriously considering crashing the rally ever since I saw the flyer, and had even gone so far as to stop by Trash and Vaudeville on St. Marks Place to score electric-green temporary hair dye for camouflage. I figured if I wore tinted shades and kept my hands stuffed in my pockets, I’d be able to pass as Kymeran long enough to get an earful of whatever Esau was spouting.

  He shook his head, a sour look on his face. “Some in the audience might read my being there as an endorsement. I’m not going anywhere near it—and the same goes for you. I don’t want you to leave the house, except to take Beanie to the garden. Understand me?”

  “I don’t like it, but I understand,” I said grudgingly. Although part of me resented being told to stay home, I knew it was simply because he was concerned for my safety.

  “Good. I’ve got to run,” he said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek as he headed out the door. “Don’t bother waiting up for me—odds are I’m going to be late.”

  Beanie came scampering up to tell me hello, and I could tell by the excited way he was dancing around that he needed to go outside. As I ushered the puppy into the backyard, I told myself that I hadn’t really just lied to my boyfriend, because I never actually said I wouldn’t go to the rally, just that I understood why he didn’t want me to leave the house. And as much as I wanted to be a good girlfriend, I was determined that I was not going to be run out of my new home without a fight. And if that meant sneaking into an anti-human rally disguised as a Kymeran to see what I was up against, then that was what I had to do, boyfriend or not.

  I took the amulet Hexe had given me out from under my clothes in order to reexamine it. The eye was no longer cloudy; in fact, it seemed to wink at me in the light from the rising moon, as if it knew what I was scheming.

  Chapter 16

  Hodgson Hall was located on Shoemaker Street, between Vandercliffe and Pearl Streets. It was a large, neoclassical-style building with a redbrick exterior trimmed with granite. A large banner that read GOLGOTHAM IS OURS hung from the rooftop, obscuring a good portion of the Ionic columns and arches that decorated the facade.

  I watched from my vantage point across the street as a steady stream of Golgothamites headed up its wide stone steps. The entrance was manned by individuals wearing large buttons on their lapels bearing the Kymeran Unification Party logo: a six-fingered left hand inside a pentacle.

  I stepped out of the doorway and cast a furtive look at myself in a nearby shopwindow. I was wearing a leather jacket I’d picked up in a vintage clothing shop, instead of my usual peacoat, and the temporary hair dye had turned my hair from brunette into an irradiated chartreuse. Anywhere else in the city I would have stood out like King Kong’s sore thumb, but in Golgotham I might as well have been a mousy blonde. I fished out a pair of tinted aviator glasses, so no one would notice that my eyes lacked the characteristic cat-slit pupil, and my disguise was compl
ete.

  I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket and lowered my head as I joined the others filing through the door, hoping my camouflage was good enough to pass casual muster. I heaved a tiny sigh of relief as the KUP members standing guard at the door didn’t give me a second glance.

  Once inside, I found myself in a huge lobby area, with open square staircases on either side. I went up the flight of stairs to my right, which led to the main floor. Here I found yet another lobby area, this one with a concession stand that ran the length of the back wall and huge doors that opened onto the concert hall.

  The main floor sloped toward a raised proscenium stage that stood six feet off the ground and allowed even those standing at the back of the room a decent view. There was no individual seating, so the audience was forced to stand and face the stage. I looked up toward the paneled ceiling high overhead and saw a large balcony four rows deep wrapped around the second floor, with a third, smaller balcony box occupying the wall directly opposite the stage. Although the doors had opened only a few minutes earlier, the main floor was crowded, and both upper tiers were already filling up.

  Banners with slogans such as SAY NO TO NUMPS and TAKE BACK GOLGOTHAM hung from the rafters, and traditional Kymeran folk music played from unseen speakers.

  I looked around to try and get a feel for the crowd. While the majority of attendees were Kymerans, there were a fair number of leprechauns, satyrs, and ipotanes, even a few centaurs, milling about on the main floor. By my estimation, there were close to three thousand Golgothamites attending the rally, and, as far as I knew, I was the only human.

  What really worried me, however, was the smell of the crowd. During my time in Golgotham, I had come to understand that the personal scents of Kymerans provided biochemical signifiers to their basic personalities. To put it bluntly, nice people smelled nice, and bad people didn’t. Normally, the odor generated from a large gathering of Kymerans was a heady mix of fragrances, as exotic as the spices wafting from an Indian restaurant. But the predominant aroma inside Hodgson Hall was astringent, a combination of birch tar and quinine, which suggested I was surrounded by a lot of bitter witches and warlocks.

 

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