by Sarah Zettel
The strangers walked me and Mama all the way up into the Hollanders’ building. Mrs. Burnstein poked her head out her door as soon as we got inside. She exclaimed something I couldn’t understand, and one of the other women answered her. Next thing I knew, Mrs. Burnstein had gotten ahead of us on the stairs. She clucked and chattered, and, more important, opened the door of the apartment. She showed no surprise at the way the back room had been transformed. I didn’t even know for sure if she could see it. All I did know was she was giving orders in whatever language they all spoke, and those other strangers were obeying. The women laid Mama down on the bed and shooed all the men out. Mrs. Burnstein shut the door and pulled the drapes. Together, grim faced and efficient, those women got Mama out of her dress. A dark blob of a bruise was already spreading across her stomach and more bruises were darkening her forearm where Simon had grabbed her. Mrs. Burnstein made an exclamation, and spread her hands across Mama’s stomach.
“Is she okay?” I was cold. I was shaking and groping for my magic, but it wouldn’t come. Why couldn’t I get my hands around my power? Mama was dying. They’d killed her and I couldn’t do anything to save her.
“She will be fine.” Mrs. Burnstein laid one gnarled hand gently on Mama’s arm over the bruises. “Nothing broken, thank God. And the swelling is not bad.”
“Callie,” Mama croaked.
I grabbed her hand. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
“Did they—”
“No.” I cut her off quickly. “Nobody hurt me. I’m fine. You rest. Mrs. Burnstein says you’ll be okay.”
“Yes, I will. Just as soon as I get my breath. Thank you. All of you. Callie, make sure …”
“Yes, Mama.” I knew what she wanted me to do. We’d done this before, back in Kansas, when neighbors had come around to help. I knew how it worked. You accepted what you absolutely needed, and no more than that. You made sure everyone was thanked, and you offered coffee and whatever sweets were on hand. But most of all, you got them out of there as fast as was polite. You had to show you could take care of your own on your own, whether that was true or not.
It turned out these people understood that as well as anybody in Slow Run would have. The women let me walk them out into the front room, where the men were talking in low voices. I thanked them all for their help and I meant it down to my bones. I told them Mama would be fine and tried to mean that too. When I offered coffee, they all declined. They told me I was a good girl and that Mama was a brave woman and I should make sure she got her rest. I assured them I would, and I showed them all to the front door, Mrs. Burnstein included, even as she reminded me for the third time she was right downstairs if I needed anything.
I closed the door. I walked over to the dining table without knowing why and stood there staring at it. Mama had all but scrubbed the varnish off trying to get it clean. There was a smell of lemons.
I was shaking again. I grabbed the back of the nearest chair and squeezed it hard. I squeezed my eyes shut too. I couldn’t cry. This was all my fault. If I hadn’t un-magicked the Hollander brothers, they wouldn’t have been able to hit Mama. If I hadn’t gone off and left her alone, I’d’ve been there before the trouble even started. It was all my fault. But I would not cry. I had to get back in there and sit with Mama so she wouldn’t be alone. I could not cry.
The door downstairs banged and heavy feet ran up the stairs. The sound of hoarse sobs came with them and I straightened up fast. The flat door slammed back, and Benny and Sy stumbled in. Their eyes and faces were red. Tears still streamed down their cheeks. Benny had a black eye. Simon was holding his wrist, and blood ran down from his flattened nose. They both stared at me, wild-eyed and weeping.
I turned around, walked into the back room, and shut the door.
18
Lowdown, Worried, and Blue
The Hollander brothers were still crying when Jack got in. I was in the back room, sitting next to the bed, but I heard him out there. Mama had let me cover her up with one of the sheets, despite how stuffy it had gotten, and now she was asleep, breathing deeply, with one hand sprawled across her stomach. In the other room, Jack was asking his brothers what was the matter. The only answer they gave was more hoarse sobs. Jack started shouting. I think he shook one of them, and they just kept on crying.
Jack barged into the back room.
“Callie! Something’s wrong with …” He saw Mama in the bed and me in the chair and stopped dead. “What happened?”
“They … they were evicting somebody in the next street. Mama tried to stop them, and Ben hit her.” Just thinking about it made my hands curl up tight into fists.
“God Almighty,” whispered Jack. “Is she okay?”
“Just sleeping.”
“Callie …” He glanced toward the door, and the sound of his crying brothers. “What did you do?”
I looked at him.
A kind of palsy took over Jack’s face as expression and feeling chased their tails round inside him. He swayed on his feet. It was like he wanted to come closer to me at the same time as he wanted to get away, but he couldn’t make himself do either.
I pulled the sheet up a little farther around Mama’s shoulders.
“You’re … you’re gonna stop it, right?” said Jack. “I mean, what they did, it was lousy. They always were lousy, but your ma’s gonna be all right, isn’t she? You can stop it now.”
“Jack,” I whispered. “I don’t think I can.”
“Don’t talk like that, Callie.” He grabbed my arm. He was trying hard to force his voice to be cheerful, but what came out was worse than if he’d just given in and shouted at me. “I know you’re upset, but we’ll just make a wish out of it. Come on. You know how this works.”
He pulled, but I didn’t budge. “I thought I did. But this is different.”
“What’s different? How is it different?”
“I don’t know. But it is.”
One finger at a time, Jack let go of me. He pulled off his cap and scrubbed his head, hard, the way he did when he was trying to keep his feelings locked inside. “Look, look, I know you’re mad, but you can’t just leave them like that.” Jack’s calm was as weak and forced as the good cheer had been a second before, and the panic was showing through just as plain.
I twisted my fingers.
“Just come out and have a look, Callie,” he pleaded. “You can stop this. I know you can. You were just mad. Please.” He crouched down in front of me and took up both my hands in his. “They’re lousy, but they’re my brothers. You got to try.”
He was scared. I didn’t need any magic senses to feel it. He was as scared as I’d ever seen him, and I couldn’t stand it, especially not with his hands holding mine. This was one more thing that was my fault. No matter what I thought about his brothers, I couldn’t leave Jack so afraid.
I smoothed the sheet down over Mama, taking note of how her breathing was still deep and even. Then I followed Jack into the front room.
The smoky evening light shone red through the clean windows. Simon had fallen onto the sofa. The light turned his pale skin bloody. For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t have a cigarette between his teeth. Instead, he’d stuffed one fist into his mouth, trying to silence his own sobs. His half-moon eyes were screwed up tight, but the tears still trickled out of them.
As bad as Simon was, Ben was worse. Jack’s oldest brother hunched in the corner, his knees pressed up against his chest and his bugged-out, bloodshot eyes staring at nothing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please, I’m sorry.”
It could have been funny, but it wasn’t. The Hollander brothers were crying themselves into sickness and exhaustion and they couldn’t stop. My magic was in charge of them now and there wasn’t one thing they could do about it.
I tried to take a deep breath and calm down. Jack stared down at them, wide-eyed and pale, waiting for me to do something to fix what I’d already done to
his brothers. I crouched down in front of Ben so I could see into his eyes. Why couldn’t they look less like Jack’s? I pried open my magic, and turned it outward toward both brothers.
Looking at Ben and Simon through my magic senses was like looking in a mirror. I saw myself there—my power and my wish. But I couldn’t tell where the magic ended and the men began any more than I could have felt the edges of a reflection in glass. There wasn’t any crack or fissure I could wedge my power into. This wish I’d made by accident was stronger than anything I’d done on purpose.
I closed my magic down slowly, and turned my face up to Jack.
“Oh, no,” he breathed. “No, Callie. Try again.”
I didn’t get the chance. The front door opened, and Papa ran in.
“Where’s your mother?” Papa asked. “Is she all right?”
“She’s in our room. She …”
“I know.” Papa tossed his hat aside and strode across the room. I stood up, slowly. I was shaking again. I wanted to stop shaking. I wanted to know what to do, or at least how to explain. But of course I didn’t need to explain. Papa’d probably known about the whole thing as soon as it happened.
Papa grabbed Simon’s face in both hands and used his thumbs to pry the younger man’s eyes open. Simon didn’t even struggle. He just stared into my father’s fairy eyes until Papa let him go. Simon fell back and buried his face in his hands again.
Papa hurried into the back room. We waited. My heart was in my mouth the whole time and I couldn’t think of one word to say to Jack. He just paced in a tiny circle, scrubbing his head.
My father reemerged and closed the door behind him.
“She’ll be out in a minute,” he said.
I swallowed hard, trying to clear out some space in my head for words to get through. “Papa …”
“Not now, Callie. Just step back.”
I did as I was told. In fact, I backed up until I bumped against the dining room table. Jack moved beside me, but not too close. This wasn’t going to be one of those times when we held hands. That understanding cut clear through me, because it was the first time I really thought about how bad Jack would be hurt if Papa couldn’t fix what I’d done, and soon.
Papa was coaxing Ben to his feet. Ben staggered after Papa, and let himself be placed on the sofa beside his brother. His eyes were wide and terrified. Whatever he stared at, it wasn’t anything in that room. Oh, I’d done a real good job on him. Papa cupped one hand around each of the brother’s heads. I felt the soothing magic he layered over them, soft and easy. Both the Hollanders blinked at him for a moment. They leaned closer together. Their streaming eyes fluttered shut. First Ben, then Simon drooped, and fell back, unconscious.
Papa lifted his hands away.
“What did you do to them?” asked Jack.
“I sent them to sleep. It’s about all I can do right now.”
“What do you mean all you can do?” Jack took one step forward. His hands were clenching and unclenching, looking for something to strangle. “Why don’t you wish them better? What’s the matter with you?”
“Jack, I’m sorry,” said Papa gently. “This is a genuine transformation. It came from the heart, and it had all the power a member of the high court could throw into it.” He didn’t say “all the power Callie could throw.” He didn’t say “my daughter.” But he knew who did this. He knew I’d undone the protection he’d laid down against Jack’s brothers. I had put us all on the road to where we were now. “It cannot be undone with just one wish. It will take time, and it has to be worked very carefully if they’re not to be damaged any further.”
“Then let’s get started!” said Jack. “What do we do? What do you need?”
“I can’t,” answered Papa. “Not now.”
“Why not!”
“Because tonight, I have to go to work.”
There aren’t a lot of times I’ve seen Jack at a loss for words, but there he was, with his eyes popped out and his jaw hanging open. “What!”
“I managed to get in on a gig at the Black Bird tonight. Their man’s out sick. It’s good for thirty dollars, plus tips.”
It was so strange to be standing here, talking about magic one second and work the next. It was even stranger because the magic was what felt real and normal, and the idea of working for pay felt like something from some old story. I might have laughed, except I was watching Jack slowly draw his shoulders back and pull himself up to his full height. He was a half inch taller than my father when he stood up straight like that, and his voice had gone horribly cold and even.
“So, you’re just going to walk out of here and leave them like this?”
Papa didn’t blink, and he didn’t back down one inch, not in his words or the way he stood. “They will take no further harm. When I get back in the morning, I’ll be able to start undoing what was done.” Papa was still not looking at me. He faced Jack squarely. “Do you want me to rush the job? I could make things worse.”
Jack closed his jaw with a sharp click. “I want you to fix this.”
“I will. But tonight, I have to work. We need that money to get out of town.”
“But you can just …”
That was all Papa’s straining patience could take. “Will you get it through your head that magic is not infinite?” he snapped. “The very nature of your world imposes limits on what it can do and how it can work. And trust me, Jack, you do not want me using my power while I am angry or impatient. You especially do not want me remembering your brothers assaulted my wife and daughter while I am trying to free their hearts!”
They were very close, almost nose to nose. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. Who could I stop? This was my fault. All of it. If I’d trusted Papa, if I hadn’t tried to lift the protection … Jack wouldn’t have been happy, but it would have been all right. If I hadn’t gone out following Jack, I would have been here to help Mama and keep her from interfering with Sweeny’s eviction. Mama wouldn’t have been hurt, at least not by his brothers. What would I do if Jack took a swing? What would I do if Papa did? I didn’t know. I didn’t know at all.
“Daniel?”
Mama stood at the threshold of our room. If her voice was a little hoarse and she moved a little stiffly, she was at least upright and moving under her own steam.
“It’s all right, Margaret,” Papa said, without once looking away from Jack. “It will be just fine, won’t it, Jack?”
The magic was quick this time. A single smooth twist in the tension that filled the space between Jack and my father. Jack blinked once. His shoulders slumped and he backed up a couple steps, looking down at his hands like he couldn’t remember what they were for.
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He looked at his brothers again, but I couldn’t tell if he saw them properly now. “They’re not going to get any worse, are they, Mr. LeRoux?”
“No.” Papa’s voice was gentle, but it was cold. “That much I can promise.”
“Okay.” Jack was giving in. I could feel him relaxing into Papa’s little twist of power. He didn’t even know it had happened. I imagine it felt fairly natural to him. Jack always tried to look on the brightest side.
The only problem was, this bright side wasn’t Jack’s.
Jack and Papa folded the Murphy bed down from the wall, and wrestled the Hollander brothers onto it. Mama made sure Ben and Simon were covered up then she set about making sandwiches for Papa to take to work. Jack stood by the piano, looking out the window.
I sat in one of the chairs at the table. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think, beyond the fact that this was my fault, and no one was saying so. It was my bad ideas that created this disaster, with a little help from my bad luck. Now my father had magicked Jack, and Jack didn’t even know it had happened. And I couldn’t do anything about it, because if I tried to undo the knot my father had tied, Papa’d be angry at me again. Worse, Jack would be angry at me. He should be angry. It was wrong that he wasn’t, becaus
e it meant his head and heart weren’t his own anymore. Being around me had stolen the one thing from him that no one should have to lose. And that was my fault too, because my father had done this to him, and I hadn’t stopped it.
So here we all were, trying to be normal about things, when none of us, not even Jack, knew what normal was.
Papa took the paper sack of sandwiches from Mama and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back in time for breakfast.” He kissed my cheek as well. “Take care of your mother for me.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t answer. Because the only thing that came into my mind was a question. Take care of Mama? Like I did this morning?
If I was supposed to be taking care of Mama, she didn’t see it that way. She started making up a pot of chili with beans, and a pan of biscuits. Jack sat down in one of the armchairs by the silent radiator, pulled out his battered notebook, and started writing. He didn’t say anything to me, and I was glad. I didn’t think I could stand it if he’d been all cool and cheerful, with me knowing where that cool came from. I thought about the notebook he’d given me.
“… I was able to get the sugar for the icing,” Mama was saying as she checked on the biscuits. “We’ll have your cake tomorrow when your father’s home. Fifteen! I can’t believe it.”
I couldn’t believe it either. I didn’t feel fifteen. I felt a thousand years old. A thousand bad-luck years old. Jack was sitting there, writing and whistling. Not five feet away, his brothers weren’t even snoring in their enchanted sleep. What if Papa couldn’t fix them? What if he couldn’t even wake them up again? Jack wasn’t the only one who hadn’t figured on Papa’s magic having limits. I mean, the Seelie king had gotten inside a castle and turned it into a dragon. How could there be anything magic couldn’t do? How could there be anything my father couldn’t do?
I shouldn’t have thought that, because the next thought was what if he isn’t telling the whole truth? Maybe he could have done something, but he just decided not to.