“No. What are you doing in Dreamland?”
“We're just checking out the place, eating funnel cakes, the usual.”
“Who's we?”
“Department 51. My partner and me. We don't have a large department.” She began to walk around the room, looking into boxes, frowning.
“How large is it?”
“My partner and me”
“Like The X-Files.”
“Only we're real and we don't banter.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Staying at this really annoying B and B in town. There are teddy hears on the bed and my partner doesn't like teddy bears -”
“What are you doing in Dreamland?”
Weaver stopped poking into junk and frowned harder. “My turn to ask questions. What are you doing down here? There's nothing here. You had a man die two nights ago, and you're cleaning the basement?”
“You were asking questions about Ray that night in the Beer Pavilion. Are you here watching him? Were you watching him last night?”
She crossed her arms. “So it seems we both need information. And I've been giving up a lot more than you have.” She smiled at him again, and he thought, Play your cards right, I'll tell you anything "How about a deal? I tell you exactly what we're doing, what we've found - well, some of it and you agree to tell us what you're doing and to let us give you a physical. Normal stuff, vital signs, draw a little blood
Ethan tried not to think about Weaver giving him a physical. “Why? And who would do the examining?”
“My partner. He's a doctor.”
“Good for him,” Ethan said, disappointed. “Why do you want my blood?”
Weaver smiled at him without a trace of sincerity. “Just a general checkup. I'd be really grateful if you'd let us -”
“How grateful?” Ethan said. “Because I could use half a dozen of those demon guns. What are the goggles for?”
“Oh, you'd really like the goggles,” Weaver said. “You'd give me your blood for the goggles alone.”
“No, I wouldn't,” Ethan said. “What do they do?”
“They highlight francium,” Weaver said, watching him.
“Francium.”
“The most unstable element in the universe. Evil is drawn to instability, so francium is the only concrete thing it can bind to. That's what demons are made of, evil and francium. And some trace elements, of course, but francium is the key. And these -” She dangled the goggles in front of him. “- see francium, so they see demons. Wherever demons are, these goggles can find them.”
Ethan nodded. “Good, I'll take a half dozen of those, too. Plus everything you know about Ray. Basically, you tell me everything about your mission, and the real reason you want my blood, and hand over the equipment, and I'll let you do a physical. If you do the physical. Here in Dreamland.”
“I don't think so,” Weaver said.
“Then you can't poke at me,” Ethan said, and she smiled, this time with that glint in her eye, and he thought, Oh, sure you can.
“What the hell is she doing here?” Gus asked from the top of the stairs, and they both turned in surprise. He had a dusty leather bag slung over one shoulder, the tips of several swords and lances poking out the top.
Weaver waved. “Hey, Gus. How you doing?”
“This is Weaver, you met her at the Pavilion,” Ethan said.
“I bought you beer,” Weaver called up to him.
Gus nodded and came down the stairs balancing the bag on his back, and they both watched him, holding their breaths. At least Ethan did. Weaver's chest wasn't moving so he assumed -
“I got the mold,” Gus said to Ethan when he got to the bottom.
“What mold?” Weaver asked.
“Hobby of Gus's,” Ethan said.
"We'll take it to Mab with -
“Good job, Gus,” Ethan said, clapping him on the shoulder before Gus could say the chalice. “You take that to Mab. Weaver and I have some trading to do.”
“So tell me about the mold, Gus,” Weaver said, turning all her wattage on the old man.
“No,” GUS said.
Evidently beer could only buy so much.
Weaver picked up the D-gun from where it had fallen to the floor. 'Okay, then. I will consult with my partner and get back to you. In the meantime, you might reconsider your terms. You've got big problems here. I can help you solve them."
“Maybe,” Ethan said. “So were you watching Ray Brannigan last night?” She hesitated and then shook her head. “No. My partner and I went hack to town when the park closed. What happened?” She waited, and when he didn't say anything, she said, “Right. Information only goes one way. Call me when it's a two-way street,” and walked out the door, which was just as well, Ethan thought. He had things to find out, and she wasn't going anywhere far; there was something in Dreamland she wanted.
Too had it wasn't him.
“How'd she get down here?” Gus said.
'She followed us."
“That's no good.”
“So I shot her.”
Gus patted his arm. “That's my boy.”
Yeah, but I can't keep shooting her. Whether Glenda liked it or not, he was going to find a way to work with Weaver.
As closely as possible.
Mab had just finished the underpainting on the front of the box when Frankie cawed down from the scalloped roof, and she looked up to see Gus heading up the midway toward her.
She stood, wiping her hands on a paint rag, and when he reached her, she said, “Hey, Gus. How are you doing?” because she knew how much he'd cared about Delpha.
“I'm okay.” He held out some pieces of wood to her. “Wonderin' if you could fix this.”
She took one of the pieces and looked at it closely. It was heavily carved but primitive, not like the sophisticated swirls on the Fortune-Telling Machine. “This is really old, Gus.”
“Yeah.” He held out the rest to her.
“Really old,” she said as she took them. "Like . . .”
“Twenty-five hundred years,” he said, and her eyebrows went up.
“That much.” She stooped down to the flagstones and laid the pieces out, rearranging them until they were in the right pattern, constructing a 3-D model in her imagination, the way she'd done with other things a thousand times before -
The pieces rose up under her eyes and fitted themselves together.
“Whoa,” she said, sitting back.
“What?” Gus said.
“Didn't you see that?” she said, and then realized that he hadn't. “Never mind.”
She looked more closely at the lid as it hovered before her. It was missing a piece - no, as she crawled around to the other side, she saw it was two very small pieces. “You're missing two little wood pieces. One's kind of a triangle and the other one's more of a square. About a quarter inch across. Get me those and I'll put this back together for you.”
“Okay. I got you this to help,” Gus said, and handed her a wood bowl.
She took it, saying, “Thank you,” confused, but then the illusion of the wood pieces inverted itself and slid into the bowl, and she realized it was a template for fixing the lid. “Thank you, this will be a big help.”
“Two pieces, huh?” Gus said.
“Yeah. Where did you find these pieces?”
“Inside the FunFun statue.”
“Oh.” Mab looked at the pieces in front of her again. “So this is the lid that keeps him trapped in the chalice, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, hurry up and find me those pieces and I'll fix this, and you can put him back.”
“Not without you,” Gus said, and Mab winced. “Delpha knew you'd he called, she knew you were our Seer. We need you.”
She stood and put the pieces in her paint bag, the wood template bowl on top. “Gus, I'm not a fighter. You ever need anybody to fix things, I'll be here for you -” She stopped, startled that she'd said that, but it was true.
“Th
e rest of it, She shook her head. ”You get me the missing pieces to this, I'll fix it right away."
His face fell. “Did you take the dove key out of the Tunnel of Love?”
“The dove key? No. I didn't take any dove away. I put one back on the Tunnel before I put the pipes in the carousel FunFun's hand, but I didn't take anything away.”
“Someone took it.” Gus shook his head. “That's no good. When we get Tura back in her chalice, we won't be able to put her back in the mermaid without the key.” He shuffled off, looking glum, and she felt lousy &r not promising to help him.
“I'll keep my eyes open for that dove,” she called after him, and he waved without turning around.
“I'd really make a lousy demon hunter,” she said, keeping her voice low that time, but Frankie cawed at her from the top of the booth anyway.
“You stay out of this,” she told him.
Then she went back to work.
When Mab finished the underpainting, it was getting dark, but it didn't matter, she knew where the paint went even without the light from her miner's hat; she could probably have seen it without any light at all. The sight Delpha had given her was an incredible gift, priceless, and it had only one big string attached, more of a rope really, she thought, enough rope to tie her to this place forever -
Frankie cawed, a shrill edge to his cry this time, and she looked up to see Ray, stepping off the flagstone of the midway and coming toward her.
“Mary Alice,” Ray said, smiling approvingly at her as he came to stand beside her, the end of his cigar glowing orange in the gloom. “Now that's starting to look like a Fortune-Telling Machine.”
“It's just the underpainting,” she began, but he was peering at the Vanth inside.
“Beautiful. That's a piece of art. Why are you out here so late?”
“Working.”
He shook her head. “You shouldn't be out here alone. Come on, I'll walk you to the Dream Cream.”
He reached for her arm, and Frankie cawed down at him.
“What the hell is that?” Ray took his cigar out of his mouth as he looked up.“That's my bird,” Mab said. Ray was perfectly capable of pulling out a gun and blowing a raven away, so she wanted to stake her claim.
“Isn't that Delpha's bird?” Ray said, looking suspicious.
“Yes. She left him to me.”
“Left it to you?”
“She died last night. I have to get back to work now -”
“She left you her bird,” Ray said, staring at her. “I didn't know you were close. Did she leave you anything else?”
“Everything,” Mab said, suddenly feeling uneasy. “I really have to -”
“She left you her share of the park?” Ray said sharply, moving closer.
“Yes.”
He smiled at her. “Mary Alice, this is your lucky day. I'll give you two hundred and fifty thousand dollars for your ten percent of the park.”
Mab blinked at him. A quarter of a million for ten percent of Dreamland? Was he nuts?
“Think of what you could do with that money.”
Mab was way ahead of him. She'd be free. She could invest it and live on the interest and what she made on her paintings. She wouldn't be rich, but she'd be secure -
Frankie cawed above her, and she looked up and saw him staring at her. He swooped down around them and then settled on Mab's shoulder and looked into her eyes.
No.
“Yeah,” she said to Frankie. “I know.” If Ray wanted to pay her a quarter of a million for a tenth of Dreamland, something was very wrong. “No, thank you,” she said to Ray. “I think I'm just going to give it to Glenda.”
“Are you crazy?"
Frankie cawed and flapped his wings as Mab stepped back from the sudden rage in Ray's voice. “No. It's not my park, it's hers.”
“No, it isn't ”Ray came closer. “Mary Alice, I am looking out for your best interests here. I'm your only living relative.” He hesitated, and then he said, "I've left you everything, you know. In my will. You'll inherit it all. You can trust me.
“I bet she's heard that before,” Joe said from behind him, and they both turned to see him standing there, a grocery hag in one hand and two champagne flutes in the other. The stems on the flutes were bony hands holding the flute part of the glass.
“You've been to the Dreamland gift store,” Mab said, still not sure how she felt about him being a lying demon hunter, but delighted that he was there now that Ray was acting weird.
Joe grinned as he came closer. "Dave got me the wine and steaks, but he forgot the glasses and these made me laugh, so He bent and kissed her.
“Hello,” Ray said, no smile. “I'm Mary Alice's uncle.”
“Good to meet you,” Joe said, no smile either.
Ray stared at Joe for a couple of long seconds while Joe stared back, Ray threatening and Joe with a you've-got-to-be-kidding look on his face. Then Ray nodded to Mab. “You think about my offer. Don't be a fool.” He gave Joe one last fuck-you stare, stuck his cigar back in his mouth, and went down the midway.
Mab let her breath out.
“What a guy,” Joe said. “Let's try this again. Hello to you.” He kissed her, long and slow this time, no hands because his were full.
“Hello,” she said, coming up for air. Lying demon hunter or not, she was glad he was there. She peeked into the grocery bag and saw a bottle of wine beside white butcher-wrapped packages. “Wine?”
“I thought we'd stay in tonight,” Joe said. "Make dinner at your place.
Go to bed early . . . His voice trailed off as he looked at the Fortune-Felling Machine.
“Isn't she beautiful?” Mali said.
“Very. So what do you say about dinner?” Joe said, hoisting the bag again.
“Oh, yeah.” Mab took the bony-hand-stemmed glasses from him.
Joe turned to look at Vanth again as Mab tucked the glasses into her work bag.
“Don't stare,” she said. “There's a demon in there. Vanth.”
“You sure?”
Mab picked up her bag and turned back to Vanth. She could see the blue pulsing inside easily now. No effort at all. “I'm sure.” She walked over to the glass. “I'll be back tomorrow to start the final overpainting on the outside of your booth. You look beautiful. Have a good night.” 'The gears ground and a card shot out.
BE CAREFUL.
“Careful?” Mab said, frowning at it. “Careful of what? You?” More gears and another card:
HE LOVES YOU ALL HE CAN, BUT HE CANNOT LOVE YOU VERY MUCH.
Mab caught her breath and looked at Joe.
“What's wrong?” he said, coming closer, and she handed him the card.
When he took it, it dissolved, turning into nothingness.
“Nice trick,” he said to the box, and then turned back to Mab. “You ready?”
“Nice trick?” she said to him.
“You said there's a demon in there, right?”
“Yes,” Mab said.
“Well, then, 'nice trick, demon.” He looked down at her, for once not smiling. “I'm starving. You ready?”
“Yes,” she said, not looking at Vanth. She'd have to be crazy to take advice from a demon. Especially about a demon hunter.
“Then let's go,” he said, his voice easy again.
He put his arm around her, and Frankie launched himself off bet shoulder to fly ahead, and they walked up the midway toward the Dream Cream, and Mab did not look back at all.
That night at quarter to twelve, Ethan sat in the control booth for the Double Ferris Wheel, across the midway from Gus, who was in the Dragon Coaster booth, oblivious to the fact that he had a bodyguard nearby.
Ethan settled in and considered his day's work. He'd looked at the weapons Gus had brought from the Keep in his pack: all iron, which was brittle and could easily break; all thin and pointed; and all in need of a good cleaning. 'The only thing worth keeping in the whole batch had been a knife with a long thin blade and a design on the handle - a crud
e arrow shape - that Gus told him to keep when he picked it up. “That's your dad's knife,” Gus had said. “It's a good Hunter's knife. Hank never carried it. He was lazy. And drunk most of the time.”
Ethan had taken his razor-sharp commando knife from its sheath on his combat vest and replaced it with his dad's knife. They'd patrolled the park but hadn't found any more evidence of the Untouchables, and through it all, Ethan stuck close to the old man. Glenda was back home after making arrangements for Delpha's cremation, safe in her own trailer now with the doors and windows locked, and Young Fred could defend himself, but Gus was getting slower by the minute and couldn't. So Ethan stood close by. No more demonic murders on his watch, not if he could help it -
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