by Louisa Lo
“You got out of that situation, didn’t you? The pendant helped you on a subconscious level by encouraging you to lean on your trickster side. But to tap into its power directly, you have to activate it. And I’m going to show you how.”
“So I had the power all along.” It was such a foreign concept, yet somehow familiar.
Grandma swallowed. “Just like you’ve had my love all along. I’ve always been…partial to you over my other grandchildren, even though I’m not supposed to have favorites.”
I wasn’t unwanted.
Deep down, part of me always knew that my gran loved me, always remembered what I was meant to forget. All the hurt I’d felt over her rejections through the years stemmed from that very knowledge.
One last memory came to me. Grandma looked up from the ballroom floor, amongst the chaos caused by my half-brothers, and saw me being attacked in the Shadow World. She summoned Dad, skewing his teleporting route so he’d inadvertently come to my rescue. She knew the whole blame game would bring the Council’s scrutiny on me, but she didn’t care because it was better than losing me.
Yep, she loved me, alright.
I tried to imagine what it must have been like from Grandma’s perspective. To love me, to have to be mean to me, and to be able to read my mind and know that my resentment for her grew day after day, year after year.
“It was necessary,” Grandma said. Sadness touched her eyes, though her words were meant to be reassuring. “Being uncaring to you took the attention away from you, and my closed-minded stance made our enemies complacent, made them easier to flush out.” Her eyes grew hard. “And as you can see, Enid paid for that mistake with her life.”
Enid, who’d gotten her start in the vengeance business by being Grandma’s protégé. Enid, who’d been my champion ever since I’d set foot at the university. Even after seeing her true nature firsthand, I still couldn’t believe it. A part of me inched to reach for the phone and ask for her council.
I shook my head. “Good old loyal Enid. Who would’ve thought, huh?”
Grandma sighed. “I wish I could say she was an exception, but I simply don’t know how many traitors are among us. I even fed people like your Cousin Fred the occasional gossip just to track how it would go around in the grapevine.”
“So is he a traitor?” I rather liked the idea of him being in league with the Greys. It would give me a reason to pummel him next time we met.
“The boy sure talks, but does that mean he’s a traitor?”
It couldn’t be easy trying to flush out the real bad guys. You never knew if someone was truly extreme or just talking big to hide their own insecurity. Case in point, Madeleine the nymph descendant and her I-Hate-Impure-Blood stance.
“The Greys are so savvy and slippery,” Grandma continued. “They even infiltrated my own charity ball and got their hooks into one of mine. I’m afraid Enid was right. Esme is the bait and you’re the target.”
Something was bothering me about that. “Why go through all that trouble just to kill me if I’m a hideous abomination to them?”
“Exactly. That’s why I don’t think the point is to kill you. I think they want something from you.”
“What is it?”
“You’ve heard of the legends of Fleur, of course.”
Every trickster in existence had. I remembered the bedtime stories my mama used to tell me. They were fun tales of mischief and pranks in a prehistoric world. Tipping the tyrannosaurus. Tricking an Australopithecus chef into pulling out his own fur. That kind of thing. “Fleur, the First Trickster, right?”
“Yes. While she’s well known in all the planes for being the first mistress of trickery, what most supernaturals don’t realize is that she was the one who trapped Absolute Evil.”
“Absolute Evil? Like, evil in its purest form? I thought it wasn’t real.” Or as real as the Loch Ness monster was to humans.
“It’s the original, purest, and the most absolute kind of evil. And it’s definitely real. The story goes that Fleur secretly passed down a harp to her female descendants, one that could free Absolute Evil from its prison.”
“Alright, but I still don’t see what any of this has to do with me, or Esme.”
“Your mother is the last known female descendant of Fleur. Well, second to last.” Grandma looked at me pointedly.
“What?” Mom had never told me that. My first reaction was, “That is so cool!” I could get into any trickster party with just the mention of my ancestor, if I wanted to. Heck, I could pull the prank of the century, calling to arms the most talented tricksters of our generation. Then it hit me. If word got out about my lineage, it would make me even less popular in the vengeance world.
“The Greys must think you have the harp and would be willing to trade it for Esme’s life. The passing of the harp happens not at the death of the mother, but at the daughter’s eighteenth birthday.”
“Oh.” This was all too much to take in. “Wait, does my mother actually have such a harp?”
“I already asked her all those years ago. At one point in history, her line was rumored to have it, but it has been lost. Even if you do have it, I don’t think it would be wise to—”
“I know. I know. I can’t just give it to them even if I’ve got it. Esme wouldn’t want that anyway. Who knows what they’re going to do with it?” Nothing good, I was sure. I closed my eyes. “It’s too bad Enid turned out to be so easily killed. We could use some answers.”
Grandma nodded. “We supernaturals sometimes get arrogant with our magical safeguards to the point of neglecting our physical weakness.”
“But you mentioned there was another way to rescue Esme.”
“Before Enid died, she revealed that Esme’s captors are the High Monks of Greys, and the fact that there’s some fighting going on within the group. We might be able to use that to our advantage. But first things first, we have to locate Esme.”
“How?”
“You already know how. Think.”
What did I learn today? I was connected to Grandma, through a bond of love and forced amnesia established long ago. That was how she knew Esme was taken. That was how she knew I was being attacked by Enid.
Esme was connected to me, through her recharging of my power recently.
My trickster blood had always made me a great hider in the game of hide-and-seek. Grandma could flip that into a seeking ability using the hunting instincts of an advanced vengeance demon.
As an added bonus, Esme was wearing trickster-spun clothing, making the seeking just a bit easier.
“Hang in there, Esme. I’m on my way.”
Chapter Fifteen
“A HUMAN OUIJA BOARD?” I looked at the opened department store-bought board game box and raised an eyebrow.
We were sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Grandma’s bed, the black-and-white checkerboard design of the carpet contrasting sharply with the faux parchment appearance of the Ouija board.
“Don’t underestimate the power of simplicity, my child. With all the necessary symbols and letters laid out, this board will do the locator job just fine. Now, give me your necklace.”
I unclasped my pearl pendant necklace and handed it to Grandma. She smiled at the puzzlement on my face and took the pendant off the chain. She then placed it on the center of the Ouija board and put her finger on the planchette, gesturing for me to do the same. I shrugged and followed her lead.
“Now I’m going to show you how to tap into the power of your pearl. It’s programmed to respond to voice commands only. To mine or yours.”
Grandma took a deep breath and chanted a line repeatedly in a foreign language, Sumerian from the sound of it. The pearl grew bright and transparent. And I felt a corresponding rejuvenation in my wings. I twisted my upper body for a better look.
They’d never looked so good. What was previously dark grey and winkled, was now full-fledged, with the ridges defined in the gorgeous color of soft dove.
I mouthed a word of th
anks to Grandma just as the pearl lifted itself out of the pendant’s base and melted into the planchette.
“May this board, born from human superstition and fear, help this child of trickery seek her heart’s sister.” Grandma’s voice rang loud and clear across the bedroom.
The planchette lifted its pointy end and gave itself a little full-body shake like a wet dog. Grandma and I struggled to keep our fingers on it. Losing contact now would mean redoing the whole setup.
I’d rather not. Grandma was wearing old lady perfume, and we were leaning pretty close to each other.
“I heard that,” she said.
Damn, this mind-reading thing had its disadvantages.
“I heard the D-word too.”
Dammit.
Wanting to get started as much as I wanted to avoid a lecture on swearing, I asked the Ouija board, “Where are they holding Esme?”
The planchette moved across the board to point at various letters. C-A-M-P-U-S.
“Campus? You mean at Demon U?”
The planchette pointed at the word “yes.”
“No way.” The Greys wouldn’t dare to hold Esme at a place under Grandma’s direct jurisdiction, would they? Wouldn’t she know if that was the case? Geez, I was just there less than an hour ago. Could it be that I was drawn there because deep down I knew Esme was near?
“Perhaps. You might’ve sensed her despite the very strong magic they’re no doubt using to hide her presence. Now, try to keep your words in the form of a question,” Grandma cautioned. Right, no confusing the planchette, aka Shaky-Shake-Shake Fido.
“Okay, okay.” Inspiration struck me. What if Esme was on campus, but not really there? “What plane are they keeping her on?”
The planchette spun ’round and ’round like a puppy chasing after its own tail.
“That thing is confused.” I was going cross-eyed tracking its frantic movement.
“That’s because it has nothing to anchor its detection,” a new voice said.
I looked up and saw Serafina at the door. Her posture was tentative and, frankly, a bit scared. And who could blame her? She was looking into Grandma Aequitas’ private chambers, and to the rest of the world, she was very much the Demon in Prada.
“Ah, come on in, Miss Advocatus.” With her free hand, Grandma gestured Serafina to come into the room. “Have a seat here next to my granddaughter. I believe you’ve met.”
I snorted. Grandma didn’t just believe Serafina and I had met, she knew we were becoming fast friends. Some of the images that flew through my head when our memories had re-synced included me helping Serafina break free of Madeleine’s tormenting with the drop of an iron dagger, her disguise at the ball, and even an impromptu double-dare of stepping foot into a sex shop that ended in red faces and giggles.
“Stalker,” I muttered, the idea of Grandma having seen me in front of such an establishment was a bit unsettling.
Grandma pretended she didn’t hear me at all. “I already explained the situation to Miss Advocatus. I summoned her to help us in this matter because of her outstanding tracking ability, courtesy of her changeling adopted family.”
“‘Summoning’ is hardly a comforting word to use. See how freaked out you’re making her,” I complained.
Grandma was unrepentant. I guess I was finally learning where I got my weird sense of humor. “To be honest, I already reached my daily quota for discretion when I called her kidnappers family.”
Serafina sat down and looked like she wasn’t sure what to do in the face of my mock bickering with Grandma, or like she couldn’t decide whether or not it was indeed mock bickering at all. Couldn’t blame her. Last she heard, I wasn’t on very friendly terms with Grandma. I tried to convey the don’t-worry-my-gran-won’t-bite message to Serafina with my most reassuring smile.
“Now, back to Miss Advocatus’ tracking ability. See, changelings as a race might at any point in time have thousands of children they’ve sent out into the world. These kids move around, go on vacations, get hurt in school sports and occasionally land themselves in situations where their true nature might be exposed. The changelings keep tabs on all of them so a damage-control team can swoop in at a moment’s notice.”
I never thought of it that way before. That would indeed make them experts in tracking. “So what were you saying about anchoring the detection again?” I asked Serafina.
Serafina bit her lips. “Huh, how do I explain it? Well, you know how a human smartphone has this GPS tracking app?”
“Yeah.”
“The app has to be downloaded before the first use in order to establish a traceable link. A magical baseline is the same deal. The Ouija board can provide you with a location, up to a certain extent. But if it doesn’t have a baseline to anchor the detection, that’s the farthest it could go. If I touch something or someone Esme has touched, then I could locate her using my changeling magic. The stronger the connection, the better the chance.”
“Well, this part is easy.” I reached over to clasp Serafina’s wrist. Her eyes widened when she felt some of Esme’s life force flowing in me. It was a generous gift, and now it had proven to be a vital one.
Serafina blew her changeling magic onto the planchette, stilling the madly spinning piece of wood immediately. Then she put her own finger on it, careful not to loosen my grip on her wrist. “That will do nicely. Megan, ask your question again.”
I cleared my throat and pressed harder on the planchette. Let’s hope this works. “What plane are they keeping Esme on?”
The planchette moved along the board with a steadfast movement I found reassuring, spelling out the letters H-U-M-A-N.
Well hello, the University of Toronto campus.
“Wait, it’s not as simple as that,” Grandma pointed out.
“Why?”
“Because it hasn’t stopped spelling.”
The planchette spelled out BOOTLEG.
“Oh.”
***
A bootlegged plane was a micro-world created by the planeswalker demons for the purpose of allowing individuals to enjoy a slice of the human life without all the pitfalls. It had everything the real human place would have and none of the unpleasantness—like hangovers and parking tickets—as everything in it wasn’t real. Depending on the price paid to the said demons, the size, quality, and duration of that copied world varied greatly. There were permanent bootlegged planes out there that went on a continuous copying loop, updating that world with the latest pop music and gadgets, and replacing broken bar stools, accidentally run-over pedestrians and what not.
These planes were illegal, for the obvious risk of some serial killing supernaturals using it as a practice ground before moving on to the real thing.
How were we going to find out exactly which bootlegged plane Esme was hidden in, let alone how to get there?
***
I changed into fresh clothes in one of Grandma’s spare bedrooms.
My eyes misted when I saw my old princess bed in the center of the room, with a worn teddy bear resting against the pillow, the embroidered silk heart on its chest as vibrantly red as I’d remembered it. I guess I really did always have a place in Grandma’s heart.
I opened the closet and found an assortment of clothes in my size. I picked my outfit and headed for the ballroom.
***
I studied myself in the mirror opposite the landing on the top of the stairs leading down to Grandma’s ballroom. It held the reflections of a girl in a fresh, body-hugging, blood-and-gore-free T-shirt. Along with my own leather jacket, pants, and boots, I was covered head to toe in black.
I might not know how to get to the party yet, but I was dressed and ready to rumble.
On the surface, I looked like any average wannabe-cool university girl with not enough sense to not dress in black, long sleeves, and leather on a hot summer day. It was the best I could do to conceal as many weapons as I could while moving in the bootlegged world. Best not to alarm the humans there. We might know that t
hey are fake, but they don’t. There was a secret compartment on each side of my jacket, one holding an extendible knife and another a dagger. I wore an arrow-shooting ring on my finger, and a snap-together shield was hidden in the base of my sneakers. And did I mention my belt, which could shapeshift into an ax? Also, my dark hairband was made of trickster-spun material, which could induce illusion and interfere with my targets’ senses with hyper arousal.
“I think it’s best if we leave hyper arousal out of the equation, dear.” Grandma coughed from behind me.
“Oh, alright.”
Awkward silence.
“Aren’t you going to question, say, the merits of following rules when our enemy is playing dirty?”
That would be what I’d have asked even a day ago. But now the last thing I wanted was to get into a fight with Grandma. I’d been fighting with her all my life as it was. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, unsure of how to move forward. A part of me wanted to hug her and ask for a pony like a five-year-old, and the other part was clinging to a lifelong habit of having someone to be mad at. It was weird and strange and off balancing.
Grandma chuckled. “If it helps, it’s jarring for me too, and I knew my own intentions all along. And no, I don’t mean that I have any moral issues about your choice of weaponry. It’s just that…well, I have the answer we’re looking for, but you’re not going to like it.”
She gestured to the downstairs hallway that led to her drawing room, and out walked a vengeance demon I’d never expected to see in a place that was the very definition of vengeance pride and respectability.
I’d recognize those chiseled cheekbones and broad shoulders anywhere. I’d dreamed about them since that night at the puppy miller’s. Pete’s black suit was utterly starched, so much so that it passed the point of refinement and came out the other side of mockery. He was as lithe as a jungle cat; every step up the stairs was calculated, resonating with a robust energy that bespoke a way of life far less gentlemanly than the average guest in this very ballroom.
As he approached the landing, the harsh lines at the corners of his mouth twisted with the beginning of a lazy grin. Upon his arrival, the ripple of his energy signature caused a few strands of my hair to blow away from my face and tickle my ears in a sensuous way, making me remember the final moments from the last time I’d seen him.