by Ben Reeder
“I can take care of myself!” I said. “I got myself free of Dulka twice, I can handle pretty much anything the bad guys can throw at me.”
“That isn’t the point,” he said.
“Then what the Hell is?” I yelled.
“You shouldn’t have to handle any of it!” he shot back, his voice rising. “You’re supposed to be worrying about things like prom, and acne and what the other kids are wearing. You’re supposed to be mad at me because I make you do boring exercises. You’re seventeen. You’re supposed to be figuring out who you are, enjoying being a kid. Not on the front lines in some mystical Cold War. You’ve already been through enough.”
“You don’t get it,” I said, turning toward the door. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready since I was fifteen. It’s like this is what I was made for.” I slid the door to his office shut and headed for the front door. He called my name, but I didn’t stop. It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realized I was still doing exactly what he wanted.
Thursday morning was pure chaos as I pulled up. I could feel the energy in the air even if things looked pretty normal. But knowing it was there, I could see the extra urgency in the way the kids around me were doing everything. Wanda was the only one waiting for me by the tree when I walked up.
“No idea,” she said as I walked up, answering my question before it even left my mouth. “Though with Lucas and Monica, I’m sure there’s some gratuitous groping going on.”
“Have you seen Shade?” I asked her.
“Yeah, but I’m not so sure she wants to see you.”
“Story of my damn life lately,” I muttered. “So, what happened last night?”
“After you dropped us off, we found a phone and called the cops, they picked us up, took us to the police station and brought our parents. I swear, I must have given my statement a dozen times before they cut us loose.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No, the story held up. Seems like staying with the car gets trumped by running away from the bad guys. And since the bad guys weren’t there to say anything about it, no one called me a liar. And with Blaylock out of action, no one figured I had any other choice but to run.”
“Any word on what’s going to happen to her?” I asked.
“Well, she’s going to be in the hospital for a few days, but it sounds like they really got the drop on her. She might be in the clear, but she’s never going to live this down.”
“Better that than fired or dead, I guess.”
“I guess,” Wanda said. “But some fates really are worse than death.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” I said, and she looked at me with wide eyes. Her face flushed a bright red.
“Oh, Chance, I didn’t mean...” she stammered. “After all the good things you’ve done, you still don’t think you’re damned, do you?”
“That balance is still way in the red,” I said. “This isn’t a matter of what I believe in. I’ve actually set foot in Hell. I know what’s likely waiting for me.” The bell rang, cutting us off and we headed for class.
I didn’t see Shade on the way to first period, or second. Or for the rest of the day, except from a distance. She even skipped out on us at lunch, and she wasn’t in the back stairwell in the library. But then, with her senses and abilities, if she wanted to avoid me, she could do it easily. When I got so Sociology, I found her sitting in the front row, with no empty seats around her. She met my gaze with a flat expression, her indifference cutting through me like a razor. I felt my shoulders slump and I looked away as I shuffled back to the nearest open seat to plop down. The rest of class was pretty much a bucket of suck, seeing Shade but not being able to talk to her or even get a glance from her. It felt like I didn’t exist to her, and that, right then, felt worse than Hell.
When the bell rang, Shade didn’t look back on her way to the door, and my personal Hell got a little more dismal and cold. My feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each, and I couldn’t make myself focus more than a few feet in front of me on the way to my locker. Lucas was waiting for me when I got there, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking way too excited about something.
“Dude, get your butt in gear!” he said, the words coming fast.
“Why?” I asked.
“We gotta go pick up our tuxes, Eeyore!” he said. “And I finally get to see Boston!”
“I’m not so sure I’m even going to prom right now,” I said. My hands seemed to be working without my brain, pulling books mechanically from my locker and sticking them into my backpack, switching out other books. Some part of my brain must have known what it was doing, but if it did, it wasn’t sharing.
“Did Shade tell you that?”
“No,” I said. “But she’s been avoiding me and she hasn’t talked to me or texted me all day.”
“Dude, why?” he asked as we started toward the doors.
“Because I won’t tell her who I’m talking to. I told her it wasn’t anything to worry about.”
“Can’t she tell when people are lying, though?” Lucas asked. By now, the hallway was empty enough we felt safe talking about Veiled subjects.
“Yeah, but she also knows I can tell the truth without being honest.”
Laughter echoed through the almost empty halls, and I looked toward its source. To my right, Brad Duncan stood. He looked just much a douche bro as always, with a pastel polo shirt, khakis and expensive trainers on. His blond hair was styled to its usual perfection, and the cruel smile on his face was reflected in his blue eyes.
“You are such a dumb-ass, Fortunato,” he said, swaggering toward us. “Shade’s talking about breaking up with you, you know.”
“No she isn’t,” Lucas scoffed.
“Like you’d know. When she does, she’ll end up with me again.”
It was my turn to scoff. “Whatever,” I said and turned to keep going.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Brad said, and a second later his hand was on my shoulder, turning me back to face him. “I’m going to get her back, and you can’t stop me.”
“I don’t have to,” I said. “Shade doesn’t want you.”
“She will,” he smirked. “I know how the game’s played.”
“This isn’t a game, Brad,” I said. “Shade isn’t a prize you can win or something.”
“That’s farmer talk,” Brad said. He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me toward him. “I’m a wolf, remember? You're just some beta male playing out of his league.”
“No, Brad,” I said, suddenly done with the whole conversation. I put my hands against his chest and pushed him back. “I’m a mage. Remember? Ictus!” He had a split second to register what I said before the TK bolt slammed into his chest. The bolt knocked him flying about twenty feet to land on his back and skid another ten or fifteen feet. “Think twice,” I said when he started to scramble to his feet. “I beat King with hardly any training, and he was an alpha with years of experience. Think of what I could do to you now.” He glared at me, but he stayed on his ass. I’d probably end up paying for this small victory later, but I was okay with that.
Half an hour later, we were twelve hundred miles and a time zone east of New Essex, stepping off the transit platform in Liberty Plaza. Lucas’s head was moving nonstop as he tried to take everything in at once. Not that there was really much to take in. Red brick, white wood and Colonial design were pretty much the extent of what there was to see.
“Whoa, there are like three apothecaries here,” Lucas said as we headed toward our destination. “Oh, man, they specialize in pens?”
“And quills,” I added.
“Do they sell inks, too?” he asked, wide eyed.
“Over there, uhhh, Swinton’s Inks and Dyes. Or Willingham Tints. But this is where we’re headed, Hobart’s Haberdashery.” I pushed the door open, and somewhere in the shop, a bell rang, announcing our entry. Almost immediately, a round faced little man in a black waistcoat and white shirt stepped into view.
His eyes were a little too big for his face, and he had a thin comb-over going across his scalp.
“Good evening, Mr. Fortunato,” the man said, his voice still just as oily as I remembered it.
“Good evening Mr. Hobart,” I said, taking the limp hand he let flop into mine and shook it. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, sir,” Hobart sighed. “And who have we here?”
“Mr. Hobart, this, is Mr.-” I started.
“Midnight,” Lucas supplied. I frowned when I looked over at him, but he gave me a miniscule head shake.
“Again, a pleasure,” Hobart said, his smile never leaving his face. “So, two tuxedos, per the measurements you sent me,” he turned and headed back toward the fitting area. We followed and quickly found ourselves standing on a pair of stools wearing mostly completed suits. Mine had a brocade waistcoat in black with a black bow tie, while Lucas’s ensemble had a wine-colored waist-coat and matching bow-tie. Both of us had black tailcoats instead of the traditional long dinner jacket, something Hobart insisted worked better with the waistcoats instead of the usual cummerbund. Hobart fussed over us for a few minutes, adjusting seams and hems, until we were sure one of us was going to end up christening our tux with a few drops of blood. Finally, he stood back and eyed us critically for a few moments.
“I suppose it will have to do,” he muttered, then touched his thumb to his forefinger on each hand. He put his hands close together, then pulled them apart slowly with little tugging motions. With each movement, the seams of our tuxes tightened until they fit close to our bodies. Then he put his hands together until his fingers touched, wiggled them back and forth for a second or two, and pulled them apart with a flourish.
“Step down, gentlemen, and let us see how they feel,” he said. When I hopped off the stool, it felt like I almost wasn’t wearing a full monkey suit. Lucas squatted beside me, then raised his arms over his head. I did the same, and tried reaching forward as well.
“This feels,” I said, pausing to find the right word.
“Fantastic!” Lucas supplied.
“Thank you, Mr. Midnight,” Hobart smiled. “You’ll also find the usual wand holders sewn in on your off-hand side, and a concealed pocket for carrying small items.”
“How small?” I asked.
“The size of one’s palm, or a tarot card. However for the well accessorized gentleman, I suggest something a bit more classic.” He turned to a table behind him and when he faced us again, he held slender cane with a silver knob head. With a twist, the head and part of the shaft came free, revealing a hollow space in the middle. “There are several variants, but I thought something to store an extra wand…”
“Does it have to be for a wand?” Lucas asked.
“Of course not, sir,” Hobart oozed. “There are a variety of other ways the space may be put to use.” Lucas went to the table to look over the other options, and I went to the dressing room to change out of the monkey suit and put it in the garment bag to take home. By the time I was done, Lucas had his cane taken care of and was zipping his tux into his garment bag as well.
“You two young men will put your peers to shame,” Hobart said with a smile as we got ready to leave. “It is an honor and a pleasure to serve you.”
“You do good work, sir,” I said. “We’re going to be a hit.”
“Shall I bill it to the normal account, Master Fortunato?”
“No, bill it to mine. Doct- I mean Wizard Corwin isn’t responsible for my leisure time fun.” He nodded as we left, and Lucas was back to being a tourist.
“We have got to come back here just to see what they have to sell,” Lucas said as he gawked at every shop we passed.
“There’s also Squattertown. If you want the weird, that’s where you’ll find it.”
“Like the Hive back in New Essex?” he asked, only half paying attention.
“A little, but … nicer. More quaint and homey, less scum and villainy.”
“Is it bad that I think that’s kind of disappointing?” he asked as we entered the plaza.
“Not to me.”
The next transit to New Essex was only fifteen minutes later, and we ended up back home almost at the same time we’d arrived in Boston. We emerged from the elevator in Vanderbeek Building’s parking garage, and almost immediately, I felt something brush my senses. I headed for the parking spots, mentally shoving through the aversion wards. The feeling only got stronger once I passed through them, and I felt my face twist into a sour expression.
“I am about tired of games,” I said as I drew a stylized shape in the air with my wand. In the wake of the wand’s point, a red line traced out the Eye of Horus. I quickly drew a circle around the glowing eye, pulled my index finger free of the wood and then touched it again to draw another one outside it. “Demonstra, quae abscondita est!” I hissed, releasing the magick with each word. There was a blue flash, then a similarly colored haze fell over everything. My gaze fell to my driver’s side window, and I saw a blue cloaked figure standing behind me.
“You’ve upped your game,” Sentinel Dearborn said, her voice echoing inside my head.
“You haven’t,” I thought back. “But that was the point, wasn’t it?” There were damn few people who could beat Dearborn’s obfuscation spells, and I had only done it by accident. The side effect was that it also created a shallow connection between the person casting the spell and the person they caught in a reflection.
“Dude, what is it?” Lucas asked.
“We have company,” I said, without turning around. Lucas’s hand went to his backpack, but I shook my head. “Just company, not hostile company. Sentinel Dearborn, what brings you to New Essex?”
“Nothing,” Dearborn said, her voice echoing inside my head. “And there’s no reason to be so formal. I’m not here. You haven’t seen me here since the night the Furies attacked. So you’re not talking to a Sentinel right now.”
“Of course,” I thought. “So, Jane, what doesn’t bring you to New Essex?”
“There is an old civil defense landing field north of the city, belongs to the cartels. But tonight, someone else is using it, and the cartels aren’t saying a damn thing. I think your Master is going to want to see who gets off that plane come two A.M.” Dearborn’s image never moved behind me as she spoke directly into my head.
“Thanks,” I thought back to her. “I’ll tell him.”
“Tell him what?” she asked, and this time, I could see a smile under the hood of her cloak. Then she turned and slipped out of the reflection. The connection broke, leaving me with a slightly hollow feeling. I turned to Lucas.
“Okay, she’s gone,” I said.
“What?” he asked. “Where was she? What’s going on?”
“Just over there,” I pointed to the spot where she would have been standing. “It looks like there’s a new player coming to town. They’re landing at an airfield north of town tonight. Can you sneak out around one A.M. or so?”
“Shouldn’t we be telling Dr. C about this or something?”
“He’s already dealing with enough. It’s simple. We go to the airfield they’re landing at, we see who it is, take some pictures, and then we go back and tell Dr. Corwin what’s going on. Are you in or not?”
Lucas sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be a dumbass. Of course, I’m in. The last time I left you unsupervised you went and got yourself captured. Coming to the rescue is your job, not mine.”
“I think you’re outgrowing the sidekick phase,” I told him as I got into the car. “You’ve already got a hot girlfriend, a cool place to hang out and you’re turning into a bad-ass in your own right.”
Lucas slid into the passenger seat. “I have my days. But you’re still the danger magnet, dude. And as far as I’m concerned, you can keep that job.”
“Just gear up and be ready by one, okay?” I said. “Tonight, the danger magnet is turned off.”
“Dude, you can’t turn that off. I’ve seen you t
ry. Spectacular fail.”
“Then I’ll turn it down, okay?”
“I’ll believe that three days after it happens,” Lucas said. “But yeah, I’ll be ready and waiting for you at one.”
True to his word, Lucas was waiting a block away from the bookstore when I rolled up just before the hour. I pulled to a stop at the corner, and he slipped out of the shadows to get into the car. Like me, he wore dark colors, but not black: navy blue sweatpants tucked into dark blue trainers, and a brown, long sleeved cotton shirt. My sweats were maroon, bearing the long-faded mascot of a nearby college with a matching long-sleeve cotton shirt. He tossed his duffel into the back seat while I pulled across the road and headed for the freeway.
“Did you bring your phone?” I asked.
“Left it on my dresser,” he said, then pulled another one from his pocket. “Brought the dark phone instead.” I held mine up as well, then pulled to the side of the road just before the on ramp to the freeway. Ren flew in the window and dropped to the back seat.
“Okay, you’re back trail is clear, No one behind you or on either of the side streets,” he said, his voice humming with excitement. I pulled back onto the road and merged into the mostly non-existent traffic heading north. Twenty minutes later, we were taking an exit into the Mark Twain National Forest, and I was having to rely on Lucas to read off the hand-written directions I’d made. Finally, we pulled into the parking lot of an old store that had seen its last customer sometime before Reagan was President. I parked behind the building, then got out.
“Okay, Ren,” I said. “You’re our guide.” I laid a map out on the Mustang’s angled trunk and pointed my LED light at it. “We’re here, on Pine Breeze. Airport Lane is about two hundred yards east of us, and the airfield is half a mile away, as the sprite flies. We’re going to have to hustle if we’re going to make it to the airfield in time.”
“This is mostly high canopy forest,” Ren said as he looked around. “Lots of shade, lots of space between the trees, mostly low ground cover. You’ll be able to make pretty good time through the woods.”