"Who are you?" a voice asked. It was clear, musical, like a wind chime dancing in the breeze. I looked around and saw…nothing.
"Over here," the voice said. I craned my neck in the direction of the sound. Behind my right shoulder was a tiny woman, about eight inches tall, hovering in the air near my ear. Dragonfly wings were a hummingbird blur at her back. She was cute, in an early Meg Ryan kind of way-short ruff of blond curls, upturned nose, impish mouth, slender frame and golden skin. She was also naked.
"Honey?" I asked. I had to admit, she was a little hottie. Small, pert breasts-well, really small, but I mean proportionally-toned belly, gently curving hips and long legs, again proportionally.
"Yeah, that's me," she said in her wind-chime voice. "Who're you?" She put her hands on her hips in a Peter Pan pose and thrust her chest out. She was irritatingly perky.
"Dominica Riley," I said. "You can call me Domino. I'm Abishanizad's, uh, master, mistress, whatever." I offered my hand to shake and then, feeling stupid, modified it to a kind of pull-my-finger gesture. Honey just looked at me.
"Abby, huh? I was wondering where he'd been. You got him in a lamp?"
"TV," I said.
"Nice. More to do in there than a lamp, I guess. Still boring, though."
"Yeah, so he says."
"So what do you want?" Honey alighted on my knee and sat down.
"Mr. Clean-I mean, Abby-says you owe him a favor. I need a guide."
Honey laughed. "Mr. Clean, I like that. Not very original, but I bet it pisses him off."
I nodded and smiled.
"Okay, I'll be your guide. That'll clear my debt to Mr. Clean. I'm an excellent guide." She looked me up and down-as well as she could, perched on my knee-and winked. "What are you going to do for me?"
I blushed. "I thought since you owed Mr. Clean, I wouldn't have to do anything."
Honey shook her head, tossing those golden curls across her face. "Nope, doesn't work that way. If I'm your guide, I'm straight with the jinn. But I'm still doing you a favor, so you have to do something for me."
"Damn," I said, "all y'all work this way?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"You like chocolate?"
"What girl doesn't like chocolate? Anyway, that's not going to cut it. Like for like. I'll show you around the Between, but you have to help me cross into Arcadia."
I waited, on the same principle by which I try not to ask Mr. Clean stupid questions when he says something like this.
"Arcadia. The mortal world. Your world."
"Can't you cross over on your own?" I asked. "You know, fairy circles, Midsummer Night…"
"Not anymore. Now I need help. So will you?"
"You're not going to possess anyone, are you?"
"Of course not! I'm a piskie. We don't do that."
"A pixie?"
Honey frowned. "Piskie," she corrected.
"Honey, are you dyslexic?"
"No, the word is piskie. You meatheads corrupted it, started calling us pixies." She huffed prettily. "It's offensive and insensitive."
"Okay, piskie then. All right, if you promise not to possess anyone, or, you know, do evil, I'll help you cross over." I'm not a complete airhead, and I was feeling a little nervous about this deal. But as far as I knew, pixies-I mean piskies-were friendly fairy spirits that cleaned your house and kept your milk fresh. What harm could it do?
"Done," she said with a little bob of her head. I wondered why I couldn't have gotten Honey as a familiar. Smaller than Barbara Eden, sure, but better than having Mr. Clean in my TV.
"I need to go to Brentwood," I said. I gave her Adan's address.
"Just off Wilshire?" Honey asked. "I know where that is. Let's go. Just keep your head down and try not to look like a tourist." I got up and started down the sidewalk, Honey buzzing along beside me over my shoulder.
"So, Honey," I said, "are you always, you know, naked?"
"Yeah, why? Does it bother you? Piskies can't wear clothes. They interfere with our magic, can't fly. I can wear fig leaves or garlands, if you want."
I looked at her. She had that concerned, does-this-outfit-make-me-look-fat expression women sometimes get when we're feeling a little self-conscious.
"No, Honey," I said quickly. "You look great. I was just wondering. You're very pretty."
She smiled. "Thanks! People say I look like Meg Ryan."
"Yeah, I bet you get that a lot."
I was thinking it was going to take a while to get to Brentwood without wheels when we disappeared into the mist and the world shifted. I found myself standing in front of Adan's building.
"Cool," I said.
"Yeah, things are a little different here. That's why you need a guide."
Just as there were no cars in the Between, neither were there any locks. We went in the front door and climbed the stairs to a short hallway with access to the two second-floor lofts.
"Any magical defenses will still be in place," Honey warned.
"It's okay," I said. "I'm authorized."
Standing in front of the door to Adan's loft, I took a deep breath. I hoped I was authorized. I could bypass all the other wards the outfit used, but I'd never tried to break into Adan's home before. I turned the knob and pressed on the door. It swung open and we went in.
The apartment was deserted. It was the usual L.A. loft, which is to say fake but trendy. The walls were bare concrete and brick, and the floors were dark hardwood. The wall to our left was comprised entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, and exposed ductwork hung silent above our heads. It was one large room dominated by an open living area, with a small kitchen tucked in one corner. Metal stairs ran along the far wall to a bedroom loft.
I searched the place and found no signs that it was inhabited by an evil spirit. I climbed up to the loft and looked under the bed. I searched the closet and checked the tiny bathroom. I tossed Adan's underwear drawer and rummaged in the table beside his bed. Then I went back downstairs.
"Didn't find what you came for?" asked Honey. She turned away from the wall mirror by the door and flew over to meet me.
I looked at the mirror and back at Honey. "Were you checking yourself out?"
"No," she lied. "Didn't find what you came for?"
"No," I said. "But I think I know where to look."
In the Between, the Cannibal Club looked much as it did in the real world, but yellower. There were a lot of Goth kids standing in line outside the door-that seemed to be a constant on both planes of existence.
"Overdoses and suicides," Honey said and shuddered.
I looked at the ghosts. "They off themselves and then come to the club to stand in line? Don't they have anyone to haunt?"
"Absentee parents, dead-end jobs, empty relationships-they probably felt like ghosts even before they killed themselves."
I turned to Honey and arched an eyebrow.
"Sometimes I read magazines to pass the time. Newsweek had an article."
I recognized one of the ghosts standing near the front of the line. It was the blond kid who'd been following me in the Ford Taurus.
"Hey, kid," I said, walking over to him, "small world." He didn't respond, just continued staring straight ahead. I did the usual battery of tests-hand waved in front of the eyes, arm pinch, sharp poke in the ribs-and got nothing.
"He probably doesn't even know you're there," Honey said.
"No way I can get him to talk to me?"
Honey shrugged. I gave it one last shot, clapping my hands in his face. No reaction.
We went inside. The interior of the club was devoid of ghosts. It was also an almost uniform brown, the color of an old cigar. That seemed to be the best this world could muster when blacks were called for.
"What does the Between look like at night?" I asked Honey.
"Like night, only bluer."
"Huh."
I walked across the club to the dance floor and stopped in the middle. I turned around.
"Hello?" I called. "Anyone here?"
There wasn't even the barest hint of an echo. The words just died in the air.
"I am here," said a voice from the brownish shadows. I recognized the accent.
"Fred? Is that you? Come on out here where I can get a look at you."
Low laughter, like rats in the walls. I couldn't get a fix on the sound. It was like a theater audio system that kept switching channels.
"Don't make me come looking for you, Fred. Let's have a talk and I won't have to put the beat-down on you again."
"Uh, Domino…" Honey said nervously.
"Oh, I don't think we'll have to worry about that. You're in my world now, Miss Riley."
"Your world, huh? I didn't see your name on it." It sounds weak, I know, but I was just trying to keep him talking, see if I could home in on his position.
I caught a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye, and turned. Something brushed past me, and I wheeled around. Nothing. Soft laughter seemed to float from every corner of the room.
I reached for the juice and started to spin a spell. Nothing happened. I recalled my battle with the ghost dogs on the playground in Crenshaw. Oh, shit.
"Domino, watch out!" Honey cried.
I turned to look in her direction, and the vampire hit me from behind. I never actually saw him, so I'm assuming it was the vampire. The force of the impact whiplashed my entire body as I was launched across the club and through the front door. I hit the pavement, skidded, rolled and crashed into a bank of newspaper machines on the other side of the street. I'd been doing a lot of skidding recently. I was getting pretty good at it.
I lay there, dazed, and heard sounds of combat from inside the club. Actually it sounded more like an earthquake having a go at the place. The Goth ghosts showed no signs of noticing and remained standing patiently in line. I wondered distractedly how many of them the vampire had killed. Finally I got an arm up on the L.A. Times box and dragged myself to my feet. I started back across the street.
A shape materialized from out of the darkness behind the shattered doorway and quickly resolved into a giant speaker from the club's sound system. I dove to the parchment-colored asphalt as it traced a low ballistic arc over my head.
I looked up just as Honey flew out of the club. She was holding a tiny silver sword in her hand. Black magic-Fred's juice-ran down the blade and sizzled when it hit the pavement. Honey was hurt. Glittering green energy streamed from her wounds and hung in a contrail behind her.
The vampire appeared in the doorway. He paused and straightened his tie.
"Domino, run!" Honey yelled, zipping over my head.
While I'd more or less missed the fight, a few obvious facts came to mind. First, as I'd already seen, Honey was injured. Second, Honey was fleeing. And third, I couldn't put together a spell.
I got up and ran. The vampire's laughter chased me down the street.
"See you soon, Miss Riley," he said, as I plunged into the mist and the world shifted around me. Eight We arrived back outside my condo, both Honey and I having instinctively realized that my first sojourn in the Between had reached a logical stopping point. I bent over and grabbed my knees.
"So, what are you doing tomorrow?" I gasped, looking up at the piskie. She'd alighted on the stucco banister that flanked the steps to the front door of the building.
"No plans," she panted.
"Meet me here about ten?"
Honey shook her head. "I'll cross with you. You're going to bring me over, remember?"
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Now?"
"Sure. It's not hard. When you get back, just call me like before. It might take a little more magic, but no big deal."
I nodded. "How bad are you hurt?"
"I'll be okay." Her wings drooped and she was pressing her hand against a wound in her side. "Just need some rest."
"Sorry about that. Last time we met I owned that fucking guy. I can't cast spells here, though."
Honey shook her head. "It's not just that you can't cast spells. He's stronger here."
"Yeah, what's up with that? He's a vampire and it's daytime." I looked around. "More or less. Shouldn't he be sleeping it off in a coffin somewhere?"
"Vampires exist simultaneously in the physical world and the Between. They're active in the physical world at night and in the Between during the day."
"Oh, didn't know that."
"And they're much stronger here, close to the Beyond, than they are in the mortal world."
"Yeah, found that out. So what gives with my spells?"
Honey shrugged. "Spells are for channeling and manifesting magic in the physical world."
"This place sucks."
"In the Between, everything is magic. You're magic. Well, a magical construct, really." I'd added to my road rash collection when Fred threw me into the street, and Honey eyed the glowing blue juice soaking my shredded clothes.
"I'm a magical construct?"
"Yeah. All you can bring here is your magic, so that's what you are."
"So my body is stronger here, but I can't cast spells."
"Yeah, you could probably do all kinds of cool stuff if you knew how to fight."
I scowled. "I know how to fight. Fred just got the drop on me."
"You never even saw him. You're strong enough, but you don't know how to use your power here."
"So are you saying I need to learn kung fu or something?"
"No, kung fu is for manifesting ass-kickings in the physical world. Wouldn't help you much here, seeing as how you don't have a physical body or anything."
"What then? There's something I need to do here, and I'm not going to be able to do it if a pussy like Fred can kick my ass."
"You just need to learn how to control your magic in this place. Like I said, you're pretty strong, just inexperienced. Well, completely untrained, really."
"How do I learn how to control my magic?"
Honey sighed. "I suppose I could teach you."
I laughed. "No offense, Honey, but you're eight inches tall. And you have a sword." I noticed the sword was missing. "Where do you hide that thing, anyway?"
"It's a secret."
"Whatever. Like I said, you have a sword, and you can fly. I'm sure you're quite the little warrior-princess, but I don't think you're-"
Honey blurred, there was a moment of intense pain, and then I was on my back and staring up at the pale yellow sky.
"Ow," I said. I sat up, and Honey was perched on the banister again.
"I am, you know," she said.
"What?"
"A warrior-princess."
"Okay."
"So do you want me to teach you?"
"I guess," I said, climbing to my feet. I felt the instinctive need to rub away the pain, but I couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from. "Can I get a sword?"
Honey laughed. "Of course not, silly girl. Where would you put it? Besides, you'd probably just cut yourself."
"But you'll teach me the kung-fu magic?"
"I suppose," Honey said, cocking her head. "It would be an awfully big favor."
I groaned. "How much?"
"Room and board when I'm in Arcadia."
"Huh?"
"I get to live in your condo. And you have to give me food."
I thought about it. It wasn't like she'd take up much space, and she certainly couldn't eat very much.
"Yeah, okay, that's fine. Mrs. Dawson isn't going to like it, though."
"Who's Mrs. Dawson?"
"Ghost. Real bitchy one."
"Oh. Well, the two of you will barely even know I'm there."
"Fine. So how did you knock me down like that?" I asked.
Honey blurred, there was a moment of intense pain and then I was on my back and staring up at the pale yellow sky. This time she was hovering over me.
"Like that," she said.
"Ow," I said. I got to my feet and rubbed my head, because most of my pain seemed to be settling there. "Jesus, Honey, have you ever taught anyone this shit before? 'Cause so far, your technique rea
lly blows."
"Not a human, but we'll figure it out."
"Maybe we can start some other time. I'm not sure how much more training I can take."
She shrugged.
"So you said Fred is active here during the day and in my world at night."
Honey nodded. "Yeah. It's really not much different from what you're doing, Domino. When you cross into the Between, you leave your physical body behind. So does Fred, but he doesn't have any choice about it."
"Then I have to catch him in my world during the day and take him out. I think he's protecting something I need to get at."
"He must have been using the club as his lair."
I realized for the first time there didn't seem to be a sun in this place, just a diffuse yellow light that hung over the city like an inversion layer.
"I wonder what time it is," I said.
"It's about an hour before sundown," said Honey. "We can travel quickly here, through the mist, but it does funny things with the way you perceive the passage of time."
I mentally calculated how long it would take me to get to the club and search it for the vampire's lair after spinning some spells to distract any civilians that were there.
"That doesn't leave me enough time to get to him before he wakes up."
"He'll be out of there as soon as he opens his eyes. He's going to find a new lair."
"Yeah," I said, "but I know someone who can find him."
"You're going to bring me over with you, right? You promised."
"Okay. But I'll need you to come back here with me, probably tomorrow. I still need my guide. And you have to train me."
"Sure thing," Honey said, and we went inside.
Mrs. Dawson was sitting at the kitchen table staring out the window when we came in. She didn't acknowledge us, and I got the feeling she'd spent a good portion of her life doing the very same thing. It was kind of sad, and I wondered why she was hanging around. I'd always thought ghosts had a purpose.
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