by Rowan Casey
“Slow down, let it work,” he said. “And let’s make it last.” He bought a smaller bottle for himself and finished half of it.
Hannah nodded and added the bottle’s weight to the rest of the stuff in the backpack, no longer caring if people snickered at her with Hello Kitty backpack. Slowly, she began walking around the station and then the connected mall, which covered quite a bit of the block. Many of the stores were still shuttered given the hour, but she recognized all the chains and paused now and then to window shop.
“We can’t buy it and you won’t let us steal it, so what choices are left?” she asked Daniel. He was silent, brooding over their dilemma. No options occurred to her, but she was itching to be proactive because waiting for the fates to direct them was bothersome. She’d always been decisive, the take-charge one in a group. Her choices might have seemed, at times, extreme, but at least they were choices and each one informed the next one. Waiting for a sign from on high was not her style and while Daniel seemed to have faith, she was definitely more the take-charge type. Still, she was currently stumped as to what they could do.
Hannah pulled out her phone, powered it up, and checked for a signal. She saw more texts and voicemails, but by now they were limited to the detective and Kenisha. There were eleven new emails but she rarely used the tool so felt they could be ignored. Her battery was down to sixty-three percent so knew they’d need to recharge sometime during the day. It was a lifeline of sorts and she was determined never to be below twenty-five, just in case.
They walked by shoe and clothing and cosmetic shops, and walked quickly past the food and drink options to avoid temptation. Neither one spoke for long stretches.
“You know, we could always try the truth,” he finally said as they began their second circuit of the mall.
“That’s crazy talk,” she replied.
“No, seriously, we talk to him and explain that we need the horn, reveal as little as we need to, impress upon him our serious need and see if he doesn’t want to help save the world.”
“Just a few problems with that,” she said, stopping. Ticking items off with her fingers, she began, “We fought a demon and still had doubts, so why would he believe us with just words? What makes him so altruistic that he’ll do this on our say so? What will he do for his livelihood? What if he calls the cops?”
“That last one is really not likely,” Daniel countered.
“Oh, that’s the one you’re going to challenge me on? Fine.” She dropped a finger, leaving three still waving in the air.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Do you have a better plan?”
“Not yet.” But they needed one. It was true the horn’s owner was playing late so maybe he slept during the day or had a job. He was likely not going to be back before sometime in the afternoon. That gave them more than six hours to make a plan or figure things out. They also had to address the possibility that they would not see him or the horn that night, which meant they’d need food and shelter once more. It was clear, neither one was really looking forward to returning to Lizzie and her coterie. That was an issue they’d address later.
“Some knights we are,” he said. “We’re so close to fulfilling our quest, but here we are without a clue.”
“It’s not like Grimm sent us to Knight School or gave us a manual,” she argued. “We were flown west, activated, and sent back here to find the horn. All in all, that’s pretty sketchy.”
“Fucked up is what it is,” Daniel said.
“True that.”
“Have you spent more time thinking about what all this means?”
Hannah was admiring a leather skirt on an emaciated mannequin as he asked the question and she was not at all certain how to answer him. Of course she’d thought about it, but had she concluded anything worth sharing? That was the real question. She knew nothing would ever be the same again. She had no home, was technically a fugitive, but she was also someone with a rich heritage, something she’d never anticipated. At sixteen, she really knew very little of her family tree and given her parents, she always thought that was the best. Now, though, she had a lineage dating back centuries and it was a good one, filled with great deeds. She was literally the stuff of legend. She was a knight, gifted with a lack of fear, or more truthfully, the inability to let things frighten her. Her life had radically changed but since it was still in transition she couldn’t say this was always going to feel good and special. There were nagging doubts about completing the mission. Even if they got the horn, there was no guarantee the other knights would complete their quests. If even one of them failed, the Veil would be as useful as tissue paper at keeping the creepy crawlies out. And what would the world be like then? Alternatively, if everyone did do their part and the Veil was given a fresh coat of paint or whatever was required and the world was left to the terrorists and capitalists. She expected Grimm had a plan for her and Daniel; one that would see to their futures. It’s not like he had a castle to offer them and she didn’t see a Round Table at Avalon, so just hoped he’d help her with college or a career or something.
“I’m still processing,” is all she said out loud.
“I keep tossing the possibilities around in my head,” he admitted. She shot him a, “you too?” look and nodded. “Yeah, I get the idea Grimm’s going to take care of us. Not that I want to live in Los Angeles, but I figure he’s got plans for us all. If he’s really been watching us, like he said, he knew where to find us. He knows our stories.”
“Don’t you think he could have done something to intervene, stop us from living in the home?” Hannah shot back.
“I don’t think it works like that,” he told her. “I think he knew where to find us should there ever be a crisis big enough to require the knights.”
“Did we meet Arthur?”
“I don’t think so,” Daniel said. She struggled to recall all the names during a hasty round of introductions before the Horned Demon interrupted things. Then Marilyn Le Vey turned up and they were suddenly given their assignments and scattered. It’s not like they all had posters with their Knightly assignments posted for study. But if they hadn’t met Arthur, and he was their titular king, then where was he? Or she? Had the current incarnation been delayed, or worse, killed?
They were continuing their walk, speeding up or slowing down as they talked, their pace punctuating the conversation. The place was getting busier and the rattle of gates being raised and vacuums whirring added to the noise level. It was a good place to kill some time surrounded by people and filled with distractions.
“At any time, he could have kept my parents from doing stupid things,” she complained. “How does it work?”
“Like I know? Look, we can ask him all this once the quest is over.”
“Yeah, the quest…. We still have no idea how to get the horn.”
The remainder of the day was pretty much a repeat of the morning. They didn’t want to meander too far from the station in order to be back to find the musician, should he even turn up. For all they knew, he took Saturdays off. They hit the streets and took long walks up and down Flatbush and Atlantic Avenues despite the rising temperature and humidity. Her fresh clothes were sticking to her skin long before noon. When they couldn’t hold out any longer, they bought cheap, greasy street food and continued to toss around ideas, shooting them down just to repeat them later. She felt like they were treading water and it gnawed at her. She wanted to act but could not and that really bothered her. Daniel was way too sanguine about letting the hours drift by but really, what choice was there?
Finally, their feet getting tired, they decided at 3:30 to head back to the station and take up positions near where their target was likely to be. Standing at the spot was a young man, with a long goatee, playing something acoustic on his guitar. Although the trumpet player was clearly superior, the acoustic guy was making out as well; in other words, not too great. Hannah wasn’t a fan of the music much like she wasn’t a fan of jazz. She endured it, sitt
ing with her back against a painted iron pillar, her backpack at her feet. There was minimal traffic at the station with trains stopping in either direction once or twice every half-hour. It seemed locals avoided the station and tourists or visitors were the ones on the platforms, at least that was her guess based on their attire and mannerisms. She had plenty of time to study them, something to do while waiting, Daniel had long before run out of words it seemed; he remained observant and quiet.
The guitarist finished and an Asian couple politely clapped but threw nothing in his case. The man nodded his thanks and packed up, vacating the space in under five minutes. If Hannah knew how these things worked, someone would be along fairly quickly. After all, there was money, of a sort, to be earned. Her thinking was quickly validated when the musician was spotted riding down the escalator. His attire seemed to be the same as the night before although now he wore a porkpie hat that suited him. With practiced ease, he ambled over to the spot, opened the case, withdrew the fabled horn that still looked like an old, somewhat battered trumpet, and worked the keys with ease. Making certain the case was at an angle that made it easy to fill, the man looked about, a sad, haunted look in his eyes. There was a shudder, a shrug, and then he brought the horn to his lips and something beautiful emerged. It was as she imagined the horns heralding the arrival of Jesus in heaven might sound. It was clear and perfect, a clarion call to announce he was here and ready to make music.
She noted with pleasant surprise that the moment the first note was played, she felt the same sensation she had the night before. The not-quite-tingle that confirmed for her the presence of something magical. Daniel was beaming, clearly enjoying whatever it was he saw. She was jealous that his gift was something so cool, so vital. She would love to see what he saw, both good and bad. Maybe that way, she could help him learn or train to better use his sight.
“Y’all got any requests,” said the man asked to the intermittent passersby.
“Can you do fast,” a young, overweight boy asked.
“Fast as a bee,” he cackled and put the trumpet to his lips. Hannah was impressed with the ease he played the fast song, one she was sure she’d heard in movies. It sounded like a bee buzzing around and brought a broad smile to the boy, who urged his mother to make a donation.
“It’s The Horn, right,” she asked Daniel, finding she lowered her voice as if anyone surrounding them might have a clue what they were discussing.
“Without trying, the Sight showed me it was the Horn. Same instrument,” he confirmed.
As the man played, Hannah leaned over to Daniel and made certain she had his complete attention. “Now, he’s here. What the fuck are we going to do?”
Daniel stared back, the day’s circular arguments clearly replaying in his mind. Despite examining the matter from all angles, legal, moral, and ethical included, they had yet to reach a conclusion.
“The truth,” he finally said.
“Because it’s what knights would do,” she said, mimicking his replay from when they ate chicken souvlaki earlier.
He nodded.
“Well, then you’re going to be the one to tell him we need his trumpet to save the world,” she told him.
He nodded.
“So, when do we break the news to him that he has to give over his only means of making a living…?”
“You think?” he interjected.
“Yes, I think. His only means of making a living so the world can avoid being overrun by monsters.”
“Let him play a set, make some money. When he takes his first break, we’ll talk to him. He seems a friendly enough guy. When this is done, maybe we can get Grimm to compensate him in some way.” Daniel sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that.
She nodded.
As it turned out, he played for over an hour before he took his first break. They were treated to songs one or both recognized from television, movies, and mall stores. He played with surety, never missing a note, and mixing up tempos. Every now and then he got a request and cajoled the asker for a fat donation. He was doing better than the previous night which seemed to buoy his spirits. To Hannah’s surprise, she was growing to like the music and thought maybe she’d check out more jazz whenever the quest came to an end.
The two got to their feet and were about to move towards the man, now stooped down and haphazardly pocketing his donations, when Hannah looked just past him and started at the sight of two people arriving by escalator: a man and a woman, both attired in the neat navy jackets of the White Mountain. They were of average height, him with brown hair and aviator sunglasses, while the woman had long, black hair, and was clutching an oversized purse. They hadn’t seen another of the homes during their walks nor had they seen anyone else dressed like them. What were they doing there? Was this some odd coincidence? Something deep within her began thrumming, her legs wanting to move away from them. Slowly, so as not to cause attention, she elbowed Daniel and dipped her head in their direction. He looked past her and his eyes widened in surprise.
“What are they doing here?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but something tells me it’s not because they are taking the subway.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It’s just a feeling, but think about it. We’ve never seen these people or their church before Thursday and now twice in three days?”
“You think they want the horn, not us?”
She hadn’t considered that they might be looking for the teens, helping the police after it was discovered they had stayed at the home the night of the house fire. It didn’t feel right, more like a stretch of the facts.
Whatever doubts vanished when the two bent towards the musician and began speaking to him, gesturing at the trumpet. The man shook his head and the woman reached into her purse and withdrew a checkbook. Neither could hear a word being said, which vexed Hannah. He continued to resist their entreaties and Hannah was torn between running far from them and coming to the man’s aid. Daniel as watching but this is where she knew she had to take the lead. He’d done his part, identifying the Horn, and now it was her turn. Her knight was a fierce, worthy fighter and she had to live up to that reputation.
The man actually had the balls to lean down and try and wrest the trumpet from the musician’s hands. Voices were being raised and others on the platform were starting to notice and yell at the pair, trying to get them to back off.
“We can’t lose the Horn,” Daniel said, low.
“No shit,” she said and began moving toward the three people. “Hey asshole, leave him be.”
That caused the woman to look up and her eyes narrowed while her expression told Hannah they were recognized. At that moment, the man’s greater strength wrested the trumpet from the older man, who let out a cry of anguish, mixed with a medley of curses.
No one else on the platform, not that there were many, moved to help.
Screw this, she thought as she dropped her backpack and lowered her head, rushing the thief. She wound up head-butting him in his soft midsection. There was an exhalation of air and he staggered back from the impact, but not enough to make a difference. The woman, Hannah noted from the corner of her eye, was on her phone, probably calling the police. The man swatted at her with an open hand, the blow landing on her ear, cushioned by her hair but still the force threw her to the side.
“Leave her alone,” Daniel yelled and joined the melee. He reached for the trumpet, which the man held high above their heads. Hannah decided that this was not going to be a fair fight so she made a fist and punched the man in the crotch. She hated making that kind of contact, but it did the job as he yelped and bent over. Daniel reached out to make a grab for the instrument only to get blindsided by a rear attack from the woman. She clasped her hands together and the balled fists landed low on this back, near a kidney.
Dimly, Hannah was aware that others were yelling, some capturing the fight on their cellphones, but no one was coming to their aid. The Knights were on th
eir own.
The old man was shoved aside, no longer a factor in the scrum for his instrument. He shouted curses at the four figures, no doubt uncertain what was going on. Hannah reached around Daniel to kick out at the woman while Daniel made a fresh attempt for the horn. The man was straightening up, a grimace on his face, and then Daniel tried to yank the horn away. Instead of letting go, the man thrust his hand, the one holding the trumpet, forward, throwing Daniel off balance and the instrument clip him on the jaw, causing a gash.
Hannah roared and tackled the man, the two collapsing on the cement platform in a heap, a tangle of arms and legs. Being smaller, she held onto him with her arms and legs wrapped around him, constraining his movement. As he struggled, Daniel stomped on his wrist and that forced his hand open, allowing her partner to snatch the trumpet. The man quickly rose up and battered her with a vicious elbow to her back, near her spine. She was still somewhat sore from the previous day’s fight and flight so that really hurt, causing her to yowl like an injured cat. That distracted Daniel, who was wrestling with the woman, allowing her to smack her elbow into his cheek. At least he still held the trumpet.
Worse, two more men in the blue jackets jumped the last few feet from the escalator and joined the fray. One hauled the dazed Daniel to his feet, smacked his face with an open hand while the other wrested the trumpet free. Hannah’s attacker ignored her and held Daniel’s arms behind him, allowing the other to land three quick jabs to his solar plexus with practiced ease. Daniel let out air, then a grunt of pain, blood dripping from his gashed chin to the cement floor. Hannah tried to come to his aid but was shoved from behind by the trumpet and into the woman’s arms. The aviator glasses fell away and Hannah looked into the woman’s eyes, saw fervid hatred in them, and then felt vicious slaps to her face.
The musician cried out in fresh protest but was shoved hard by the first man, now that he was done with Daniel, who was lying in a crumpled heap. The old man windmilled his arms to steady himself but he fell into an iron pillar and slumped to the ground with a whimper.