by N. R. Larry
“So, going to the surface, boss?” Danica asked, tossing her thick, purple hair over her shoulder.
I nodded. “We need to be able to pass all of the purity checkpoints.”
She rubbed her hands together and nodded at the door. It clicked closed. Then she turned to Douglass. “We’ll start with you handsome.”
He sighed—no one really enjoyed this process—and leaned back in the seat with his eyes closed. “Be quick,” he muttered as she pulled out her wand.
“Be thorough,” I added as a golden light surrounded her wand, which was bright and glitzy, exactly like she was.
Danica nodded. “For the boss, my very best work.”
I tried not to frown at her words. I hated being thought of as the boss. It wasn’t a role I ever asked for, or wanted, but found myself in most of the time anyway. I rested my head as Danica went to work on Douglass. Five or so minutes later she was tapping me on the shoulder.
My attention homed in on Douglass and I had to force myself not to jump out of my seat. It was so weird.
Sitting across from me was a blonde, blue-eyed male, about six feet tall in a tailored suit. His nose and lips were thin and delicate and he was more pretty than handsome. All of his features were now the direct opposite of the broad, wide features Danica’s magic was now cloaking.
I shivered. “Great Gaia. You’re good.”
Danica grinned and slapped Douglass on his now narrow ass. “I’m the best glamourist in the Underground.”
I laughed. “In the world,” I corrected.
She beamed and then pointed that glitzy wand at me. My body shrank away from it, not wanting to go through with it. Danica nodded as if she understood my reaction.
“I know it’s been a while, but it won’t hurt.” She touched her wand to the middle of my forehead. “And I’ll be quick.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath like I used to do when I was a girl and my mother would take me for my shots. Even thinking about her sent a jolt of pain up my spine. It had been almost five years since I lost her and I still couldn’t look at any of my old pictures.
Danica patted my back before she got to work. “Try to relax, boss.”
I forced myself to breathe like a regular human being. The second her magic touched me, I jumped.
“Stay still,” she instructed with amusement.
I clung to the armrests. It didn’t hurt, but it was one of the weirdest feelings I’ve ever had in my life. Something moved underneath my skin, burrowing and twisting around like a tiny bug. My skin burned with warmth and even my hair started to feel foreign, like it was being taken over by something.
It was the longest five minutes of my life. Finally, the creepy crawly feeling waned and I opened my eyes slowly. Danica smiled down at me, nodding in satisfaction.
“I think I’ve outdone myself.” She stepped aside so that I was forced to face my reflection in the mirror.
Before I could stop the reaction, a tear was rolling down my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, covering my face with my hands.
She rubbed my shoulder and began whispering assurances to me. “It’s okay. It will wear off as soon as you’re safely behind our magical barriers again.”
I nodded and rubbed my face roughly. “Sorry, I know I’m being stupid.”
Danica shook her head. “No, you’re not.” She nodded at Douglass. “We’ll give you a minute alone.”
Their footsteps padded against the stone, and then I was alone with my alien reflection. My hair was long and the kind of pure blonde that was almost white. My skin was porcelain. My eyes were big, bright, and baby blue.
This was the look that brought you safety in the city. It was why I would remain underground until I died. I took a deep breath and met with Douglass and Danica out in the hallway.
“Sorry about that,” I muttered.
“You ready?” Douglass asked, right away, hiding his wand in the inside pocket of his coat. That’s one thing I loved about him. He didn’t like to dwell on things.
I nodded.
“How are we getting into the city?” he asked.
I took another breath and touched the large, quartz crystal pendant hanging around my neck. He took it in with wide eyes. I understood his surprise.
“We’re going to teleport.” I nodded my head at Danica. “You might want to get out of here for this. I haven’t done it in a while.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. I barely had enough time to look back at Douglass before she was halfway down the dimly lit hall.
“You sure you want to do this?” He asked, still eyeing the gemstone.
I nodded. “I need a power boost if we’re going to make it past the protection charms.”
“Yeah, but…”
Before he could finish his sentence, I removed the pendant and let the red-hot swell of magic burst inside my blood. I shivered against it and slowly placed the necklace in my pocket.
Douglass stared at me with very real fear in his eyes as I took his hands.
“Is it true that all your power is bound by that thing?” he asked.
I nodded. “That’s why you’ve never seen me remove it until now.” I tightened my grip around his hands and let my mind drift out of my body… out of the Underground… to the surface.
Within seconds, I found an access point.
“Brace yourself,” I said, my words buzzing with power. “This is going to suck for both of us.” I let the picture of where I wanted us to go become as clear as crystal in my head. I could smell the smells. Hear the sounds. And then I said, “114th Street, South Birmingham.”
The smell of salt filled my nostrils and the next thing I knew, we were on the corner of one of the city’s busiest streets.
I was back in the city.
Chapter 2
As soon as my feet hit the concrete, I turned into the alleyway I had teleported us near and threw up. Douglass bent over a few feet away from me and did the same thing. Breathing hard, I placed a hand on the brick wall in front of me and used it to stand myself up straight. I spat on the ground near a dumpster and used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. Before I could do anything else, I reached into my pocket and fastened the necklace back around my neck. The dizziness and ringing in my ears dulled almost instantly. I took a few moments to gather myself, and then went over to Douglass and rubbed him on the back as he deposited the rest of his last meal onto the pavement.
I kneeled over so that my lips were at his ear. “You alright?”
He shook his head and stood up, groaning. “No.” He dry heaved.
I bit my lower lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said in a gruff voice. After clearing his throat, he pulled a hankie from his lapel, wiped his mouth, and put it expertly in place.
I raised an eyebrow. “You did that like an old pro.”
He shrugged, and as I stared at him, I had to keep reminding myself that this was the Douglass I’d known for the past two years. “Danica is good.”
“Yes,” I said as I glanced around at my surroundings. Almost right away, my gaze rested on a sign that was plastered to the brick wall above the dumpster. It was a list of state Purity Laws. The image was of a face, split, one half feminine, the other half masculine. It was a diagram of all the desirable traits they checked for at the purity checkpoints.
First, they went after all the shifters and witches, and then their standards of what belonged in proper society became more and more exclusive. The nose could only be so wide. You had to be within a certain BMI. Redheads were undesirables. Blacks were undesirables. People with disabilities were undesirables. By the time I had been underground for three years, you had to have a purity rating of ninety-six percent to enjoy total freedom.
“What’s our next move?” Douglass asked in his new, tenor voice, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I turned to him and tried to adjust as quickly as I could
. Being back in the world was almost overwhelming. The roar of distant trains dropping people into every corner of the city pounded in my ears. The buzz of speech. The ding of people being let into exclusive areas of the city based on how pure they were. I had to focus on why I was here, to locate Katie and Zed, the people I’d sent here on a fact-finding mission a week ago.
Picturing their faces helped me to focus. I took a deep breath, something I found myself doing a lot lately, and said, “We blend in. And wait.”
He raised a yellow-silk-colored eyebrow. “For what?”
Without saying anything else, I stepped out of the alleyway and into the heavy foot traffic of downtown Birmingham. He stood beside me and we took a moment to get used to the shock of suddenly being around a storm of people, most of whom hated us. I forgot about the powerful glamour I was wearing and half expected people to stop me on the sidewalk, scream “witch” into my face, and call the purity police. And I violated almost all of the nation’s new purity laws.
I was black.
I had curly hair.
I was outside the standard BMI.
I was a witch.
Still, because of the glamour, no one spared me a second glance. They brushed past the two of us, on their way to work or wherever they were going. I glanced up and pointed out the Birmingham Brewery to Douglass as I slipped my crystal back around my neck.
“That’s where they’re going to be,” I said in a low voice. “We have to go in and wait.”
Douglass furrowed his eyebrows. “Is that what I think it is?”
I nodded.
“You sure about this glamour?” he asked as we shuffled into a line behind a group of people with umbrellas raised above their heads to block out the glare of the sun.
I shot him a look and then nodded. “Danica is the best,” I said in a whisper. Despite the confidence in my voice, my nerves became more and more rattled the closer to the checkpoint entrance we got. I tried not to fidget, or do anything else to draw attention to myself. At one point, Douglass took my hand and squeezed.
I wanted to slap the crap out of myself. This was exactly why I hated being constantly thrown into the leadership role. I wasn’t cut out for this, but there was no way I could leave Katie and Zed out here.
I sniffed the air, trying to be discreet because I knew that some of these checkpoints had additional safeguards against any magic, lucky for us, I didn’t sense anything. Even wearing my pendant, sensing magic was as easy as hearing the conversation in front of me. It was a part of who I was.
Finally, we came to the checkpoint. I took in two men with graying hair, dressed in light blue uniforms, ushering people one by one into the purity scanners. Douglass squeezed my hand one last time and went on ahead of me. He walked into a sleek, white booth that closed around him.
I tried not to hold my breath. Before I knew it, I was being ushered into the booth. It took all my strength of will not to throw up my hands and run. The booth doors closed behind me. A puff of cold air blew into my face.
Then the booth’s operating system began to talk to me.
“Magical affinity, none. Eye color, pure. Skin tone, pure. Blood type, universal. Hair color, pure. BMI, within range. Height, within range. Age, twenty-four years. Purity percentage, 93.2%.”
There was another burst of cold air, and then the doors opened again. A purity officer waved me forward and held out his hand. Automatically, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my papers, which was all part of the glamour. He gave it a cursory glance and then waved me into the next line, where I rejoined Douglass. He offered me his arm and together we went to the front desk, where I purchased an all-day pass to the Brewery’s events.
It wasn’t until we were away from all the checkpoints and lost in the crowd that I allowed myself to relax. Glancing around, I pointed to the second floor. Douglass nodded at me, and then dragged me beside him, clearing a way through the crowd and up the stairs.
On the second floor, we could see the entire brewery. We sat at a table for two near the balcony and I peered down. People in all types of dress were bustling around downstairs. Most of them had empty glasses in their hands so that they could test the various lagers being offered from vendors all over the city. Children ran around, playing games I remembered from my own childhood, including one that always made me cringe: bobbing for apples.
I shuddered at the thought of all the possible communicable diseases they were risking.
A shadow cast itself on the table and I glanced up to see a waiter in a black and white uniform, smiling his slightly crooked, white teeth at me. “How do you do, today? Sir?” He nodded at Douglass. “Madame?” Before I could respond, he placed two tall glasses of summer ale on the cloth napkins in front of us. “Can I start you out with our special of the day?”
“No, thank you,” I said, trying not to be too freaked out by the fact that even my voice had changed. “We’ll take two buzzers.”
He smiled and placed his hands behind his back. “I’ll get those for you right away. Bidding starts in an hour.”
“Thank you,” I said as pleasantly as I could manage, even though getting those words off my tongue felt like biting into a razor blade.
Douglass leaned in close to me and forced a smile to his lips. I did the same. He was good at blending in. “The bidding.”
I nodded and turned my head, picked up my beer, and placed my lips close to his ear. “When Mirror said that Katie and Zed were going somewhere worse than the death chambers?”
“A brewery is worse than death?”
I nodded again. “This is one of the most popular witch markets in Alabama. This is where they’re being sold today.”
He leaned away from me, and for a second, broke character. His eyes widened in clear horror. “Good Gaia,” he said, a little too loudly for my taste.
I shot him a look and waved him closer to me with a finger. “Don’t say that word again,” I hissed.
He nodded and pulled back. “I’m sorry. I’ve heard about this kind of thing, but…”
“Seeing it is different,” I finished as I spotted the waiter coming toward our table again. I plastered a huge, fake smile on my face. In his right hand, he held a silver platter with two small, electronic buzzers on it. He placed one in front of Douglass and the other in front of me. In the middle of the table, he placed a set of rules and guidelines for taking part in the witch trade. With a smile, he asked, “Is there anything else I can get you fine folks?”
Staring at the trade guidelines, I tasted bile in my mouth. I shook my head, even though what I wanted to do was rip off my crystal and turn his brain into mush. I had to shake myself. He was, after all, a brown haired, brown eyed male that was shorter than average. It was why he was a waiter. I had to remind myself that he was still better off than most people in this world.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Douglass picked up the brochure and looked it over. He shook his head. “Birmingham boasts of the healthiest, most pure witch breeds in the country?”
I wrinkled my nose.
“All sales are final,” he finished, placing the paper back where it was.
“That’s fine by me,” I said before taking a sip of my complimentary beer.
He sighed. “Look, I know you know what you’re doing…”
I smiled over the rim of my glass. “But?”
He leaned toward me again. “Do we have enough money? And what if this shit wears off?”
I kept glancing around at all the people around me, wanting to stay alert. “Trust the glamour. I wouldn’t be here if we weren’t safe.” I didn’t say that we were as likely to get caught as Katie and Zed. Or that magic is an imperfect system, like anything else. I kept my fear strapped to the pit of my stomach. I didn’t have time to indulge it.
Douglass shrugged. “Fair enough.”
We sat there, faking a conversation for the next half hour. Then chimes began going off at varying intervals from dif
ferent corners of the room. My gaze was drawn to the bottom floor, where most of the activity had ceased. The roar of conversation and laughter died down and a mechanical whoosh filled the air. People began to clap and Douglass and I joined in.
Slowly, a podium began to rise in the center of the floor. Everyone closest to it backed away. It was big enough to fit a good-sized house on and draped in a black, velvet cloth.
The room went quiet. I stopped clapping and then brought my hands together silently in front of my face. The lights dimmed and a spotlight shone down on the podium. After a beat of silence, a tall, willowy woman in a bright red top hat that was perched in a gravity defying position on the corner of her head. She flashed a perfect set of teeth at the audience and then gestured to the right with her arm. A shorter, Latino male came scurrying up, carrying a red, silk pillow with a white microphone on it.
She was dressed in well-tailored, form-fitting leather, a hallmark of the upper classes where the female form was not only scrutinized to a near pathological degree but also expected to be on display.
Gloria Wallace.
I recognized her from the news feeds I managed to stay updated on in the Underground. She was the mayor’s wife and president of the witch trade in Birmingham. She had one of the highest purity ratings in the state, which was why, even as a woman, she managed to hold such a powerful position.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” she said in the husky voice of a jazz, lounge singer.
The audience greeted her with a warm round of applause. She waited with an air of patience for the room to quiet again. Then she brought the microphone back to her naked lips and said, “Eight years ago, we won.”
The audience burst into feverish applause. I glanced around, clapping too so that I would blend in. The rest of the exchange was like a choreographed dance.
“The Purity Party won the last necessary election in this great nation.”
More fierce applause.
She ducked her head slightly and then stared out at the crowd with an almost dramatic intensity in her blue eyes. “We were at the devil’s doorstep,” she said in a stage whisper.