Velveteen vs. The Multiverse

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Velveteen vs. The Multiverse Page 35

by Seanan McGuire


  “Ack,” said Supermodel. Then, with no more fanfare than that, she fell. The sound of her body hitting the floor was followed by the sound of Jolly Roger’s sword landing beside her. Then the old pirate dropped to his knees, gathering her into his arms as he sobbed.

  Velveteen wobbled. Velveteen asked, “Is it over?” And finally, Velveteen followed the older animus to the floor.

  The last thing she saw before everything went black was Jackie, snow falling around her. “We won,” said Jackie. “You did it.”

  Velveteen smiled, and the rest was silence.

  VELVETEEN

  vs.

  The Epilogue

  THE CATHEDRAL ROOM OF THE Crystal Glitter Unicorn Cloud Castle was quiet. A single figure sat next to the closed glass coffin. She had put her bloodstained uniform back on, complete with the bunny-eared headband on her head and a thick roll of bandages wrapped around her midsection. She had removed her domino mask and was holding it in her hands, turning it thoughtfully over and over, like she expected it to somehow start giving her the answers that she needed.

  “I thought I should come tell you what happened,” she said. Her voice was soft, and the room rendered it even softer, pulling it up into the vaulted ceiling, silencing her echoes. This conversation was for the two of them alone: for the girl in the rabbit ears and the boy who slept in the coffin made of glass. “There were just so many moving pieces, and I never quite realized how much this was going to change things…for everyone…”

  Velveteen staggered out of the headquarters on her own two feet, although even a fool could have seen that the Claw and Jackie were bearing most of her weight. As for Jolly Roger, he had a burden of his own to bear: the body of Supermodel, draped across his arms like a bride being carried to her bridal bed. Her hair was her veil, hiding her face forever from the world.

  “You’re alive,” said Sparkle Bright, a smile spreading across her face. Fireworks accompanied her expression, exploding in bright sprays all around her. She ran forward, stopping herself just short of sweeping Velveteen into a hug. “I was so sure—Vel, are you okay? Is it over?”

  “That depends,” said Velveteen. “Are you on our side again?”

  “The power of love, and Epona’s own grace, has returned her to us,” said Victory Anna, walking forward to stand beside the willowy blonde. The smile on the redhead’s face was almost as bright as Yelena’s fireworks.

  “And I’m changing my name,” said Sparkle Bright. “I like Polychrome much better.”

  “The focus groups will hate it,” said Velveteen, with a pained smile. “I’m so glad to see you both.”

  “We’re glad to see you two, sugar,” said the Princess, gliding in on her magic carpet. “Looked like you were having a little trouble up there.”

  “Yeah, well.” Velveteen glanced back at Supermodel’s body. “Things have costs. We need to remember that, so that we never have to do this again. This should never have happened in the first place.”

  “Vel?” The voice was horribly familiar, and so was the tone: apologetic, hopeful, sad. Filled with years of history, and even more years of isolation. Almost against her will, Velveteen turned and watched as Action Dude settled lightly to the battle-scarred lawn. His blue and orange uniform had somehow, against all odds, remained virtually pristine. Looking at him was like looking at her own alternate future, one where this became her home. She could stay here, rebuild The Super Patriots as a force for good, and he’d be there with her every step of the way. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m bleeding on the lawn, your CEO is dead, and I’m going to pass out again soon,” said Velveteen, more harshly than she meant to. Maybe a little harshness was justified. “No. I’m not okay. I don’t think any of us are okay, and that’s probably a good thing, because we’d have to be sociopaths if we were okay right now.”

  Action Dude winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know.” Velveteen closed her eyes, sagging against the Claw. “I’m just tired. Princess?”

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “How bad is it?”

  The Princess, who had been present for the entire fight, took a deep breath before she said, “Well, honey. It ain’t good.”

  “Both sides lost people.” Velveteen looked down at her domino mask, turning it over and over between her fingers. Tad, asleep in the coffin, said nothing. “I always knew there would be deaths, just like I knew toys would be broken every time I went out on patrol, but knowing something and seeing it are different, you know? People died because of a fight I said we should have. I know a lot more people died because of what Supermodel and The Super Patriots, Inc. did, but that doesn’t really matter. Not when I close my eyes and try to sleep.”

  She sighed, and it was the lost, hollow sound of a woman who had never been allowed to be a child, and whose adulthood had been scarred by weapons she had no way to defend herself against. “Lake Pontchartrain had the highest body count. She drowned at least three people, and she’s actually being a lake right now, here on the castle grounds. The Princess said she’d been wanting a water feature, and told Lake Pontchartrain she could stay for as long as she needed to get her head back together. I feel really bad for her. But the Claw is with her—you remember the Claw, my old teammate? He was good, and then he went bad, and now he’s good again, because I asked him to be. He only ever needed permission to be a hero.”

  Velveteen closed her eyes, leaning sideways until her cheek was pressed against the glass. “I really wish you were here right now. I really wish that I could talk to you. Because it’s not over yet, and what comes next is going to be hard.”

  Velveteen insisted that Action Dude, Dotty Gale, and the American Dream accompany her as she limped her slow way around the battlefield. Jackie Frost and the Claw walked with them, still holding her up, and glared at anyone who seemed to question their presence. A larger group formed behind their small one as every standing hero fell into step, all of them waiting to see what would happen next. Only Jolly Roger walked away, carrying Supermodel’s body with him as he retreated back into the familiar safety of his beloved Phantom Doll.

  “This is on you as much as it’s on me,” said Velveteen, indicating the damage around them. “You were being mind-controlled, and that sucks, but there were ways of breaking out of that. Polychrome proves it. So did Tag, and so do I. So you don’t get to say ‘oh, people died, but it wasn’t my fault, a bad woman was controlling me.’ Do you understand? You have to own what you helped to build, and what you helped to destroy.”

  “That’s a lot to put on us,” protested Dotty Gale. There were bloodstains on her silver slippers.

  Velveteen looked at her dully, and asked, “Does that mean it wasn’t a lot to put on me?”

  Dotty Gale looked away.

  “Vel, you need to get off your feet,” said Jackie. “You’re still bleeding. I’m honestly not sure how you’re still standing.”

  “That’s okay. Neither am I. But I’m not dead. I know what that feels like now, and I’m not there yet.” Velveteen stopped walking, letting go of the Claw in order to turn herself around and face the others. “We can’t dismantle The Super Patriots, Inc. It matters too much. The world needs to be protected from us, and the only way to do that is if it’s protected by us. But this company, this structure, it needs to change.”

  “Are you going to help with that?” Action Dude’s question was earnest, accompanied by an all-too-familiar look of pleading hopefulness. It made Velveteen’s heart ache to look at it.

  But she didn’t look away. Instead, she shook her head, and said, “No. I have other commitments, and they’re going to take me off this plane of existence for a while. Besides, I left when I was eighteen. I don’t know how you people do things. This is all on you, and you’d better get it right, because I’m coming back, and when I do, I’m going to check up on you.”

  The American Dream frowned. “Was that a threat?”

  “I don’t know.” Velveteen looked slow
ly around, taking in the destruction her forces had wrought. Finally, she looked back to the American Dream, cocked her head, and asked, “What do you think?”

  “They’re going to keep training children, because kids with superpowers are accidents waiting to happen, but they’re not going to buy them the way The Super Patriots used to,” said Velveteen, cheek still pressed against the coffin. “Kids will be able to see their parents, and once they’ve learned to control their powers, they can leave if they want to. No focus groups, no forcing pre-teens into combat. Just school for people who can fly, or bench press trucks, or talk to animals. They’ll have the training we should have had, and maybe they’ll live longer.”

  She sighed. “Of course, there will still be kids like me, and like Yelena, ones whose parents can’t wait to be rid of us, and they’ll still get the old fosterage contracts, but instead of living in dorms, they’ll live with heroes who’ll serve as foster parents. They’ll have people around who can understand them, and things will be better. That’s all we can really hope for, right? That things will be better, and we’ll have fewer funerals to attend after I make it home…”

  “Jolly Roger?” Velveteen knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin before pushing it open. “Are you here?”

  “I am, lass.” The old pirate was sitting at his table. This time, his cup of rum was filled to overflowing, and spills on the table made it clear that this wasn’t his first. “I wondered when you’d get around to me.”

  “I’m not going to be getting around too much after this,” said Velveteen, touching her heavily bandaged side. “We only have one healer operational, and she’s looking after people who are a lot more messed up than I am.”

  Guilt twisted Jolly Roger’s face. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay. We both did what we had to do if we wanted to survive. I can forgive you if you can forgive me.” Velveteen leaned back against the wall. “Where’s her body, Jolly Roger?”

  “There.” He waved a hand, indicating his bunk. There was a figure there, swaddled in blankets, face hidden. “I’ll be taking her away with me, if it’s all the same to you. She and I, we have a history between us.”

  “Is she going to wake up? Because I know there are dimensions where I’ve died and gotten back up again. I’m pretty dangerous in those worlds.”

  Jolly Roger sighed. “I wish the answer was ‘yes,’ and damn the danger, but no. She’s gone. I’m going to take her to the sea, where she always should have been, and I’m going to bury her somewhere that will never be found. I want my girl to rest in peace. That means taking her away from all of this nonsense, and leaving her alone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He took a swig of rum. “She made her choices. We all did. But oh, you should have seen us when we were younger, when we all believed in doing good, not doing for ourselves. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. She still is, to me.”

  “Your mermaid looks a lot like her, you know.”

  “Funny thing, that.” Jolly Roger smiled. “You did well, lass, and I’m glad that I helped you, no matter how much it cost us both. You never get anything good in this world without paying for it. Remember that, no matter what you decide to do with yourself when the cleanup’s done and the bodies have been buried. We pay for everything that’s ours, and if the cost is dear, it’s because the prize is even dearer.”

  “I’ll remember,” said Velveteen. “After you take Supermodel away…will you be coming back this time? The world still loves pirates, you know. There’s always a place for you here.”

  “I think this was Jolly Roger’s last hurrah, lass,” he said, and stood, walking over to wrap her in a hug that smelled like rum and saltwater and adventure. “I’ll hang up my sword, and leave the piracy to the younger generation. You would have made a fine pirate, my dear.”

  Velveteen, hugging him back with her eyes full of tears, laughed.

  Jackie Frost helped them get the fallen home for their funerals, opening mirror portals between the battlefield and their home states. Since some superhumans couldn’t be autopsied, and cause of death was generally clear, only cursory medical examination was needed before the bodies could be released for burial. Velveteen and her “team”—Jackie, the Princess, Polychrome, Victory Anna, and oddly enough, the Claw—attended every funeral, regardless of who the dead had been fighting for. They were all superhumans together. That was enough.

  At Dead Ringer’s funeral—her civilian name, it turned out, was Maryanne Bellman—her mother asked Velveteen to provide a remembrance. There was no way to politely refuse, and so Velveteen, in her black costume with the matching domino mask, took the podium, and said, “Dead Ringer and I entered training around the same time, although we were with different teams. There was a photo shoot with the two of us, back when she was Liberty Belle, and I remember she had the most amazing laugh. It was like listening to sunlight. She did…she did a lot of good. Maybe that’s silly now, because she’s not going to do any more good for anyone, and I’m so, so sorry, but while she was with us, she did a lot of good. She saved a lot of lives. And I guess that’s all that any hero can ask.”

  She was crying as she walked back to her seat, where the Princess was waiting. Velveteen put her face down against the Princess’s shoulder and sobbed silently, letting the funeral run on all around them. The Princess stroked her back with one black-gloved hand. “Shh, darling, shh,” she whispered. “Happy ever after isn’t easy. If it were, we wouldn’t fight so hard to have it.”

  When they got back to the somewhat battered headquarters of The Super Patriots, Inc., Jolly Roger and the Phantom Doll were gone. They’d been expecting that, but still, it made Velveteen’s heart ache a little to look at the torn-up earth where the ship had been. The roses were squashed, just like Victory Anna had requested.

  “Hey Jackie,” said Velveteen suddenly. “Think you can manage another magic mirror?”

  “Sure. I’m feeling pretty solid. What do you need?”

  “Can you go find Garden Show, and let her know that we have a landscaping emergency that could really use her skill set?”

  Jackie Frost blinked. And then, sounding delighted, she laughed. “You got it.”

  “There were parts I couldn’t be there for, of course,” said Velveteen. The glass was beginning to warm beneath her cheek. “People told me about them, or I guessed. No one can be everywhere at once, right? I mean, except for maybe Uncertainty. And there was so much to do…”

  Trick and Treat stood before the twisted, blackened doorway, their daughter—their only daughter; the other two had always been candy golems, created to draw fire and provide their precious girl with the chance to escape if the need ever arose—standing between them, terrified and trembling. Trick put a hand on her shoulder, trying to be reassuring. Treat just stepped forward, took a deep breath, and knocked.

  The hinges didn’t just creak as the door swung open; they howled, damned things protesting their enslavement to the sky. Beyond the door was darkness. Then lightning flashed, revealing a teenage girl with pale blonde hair streaked in bands of green and orange. She was wearing a patchwork witch’s costume in purple and orange and green, and pumpkin-shaped earrings dangled from her earlobes. There was no mercy in her face. She might look like a sixteen year old girl, but she scowled like a wicked queen.

  “What do you want?” she asked, eyes going from Trick to Treat before settling on the girl who stood between them. Her scowl faded somewhat as she studied her. “And who are you?”

  “This is Mischief,” said Trick, voice unsteady. “Our daughter.”

  “Huh.” Hailey kept studying the girl, who had hair that started white at the crown of her head and darkened to orange before fading to yellow at the tips. “What do you do, Mischief?”

  “Um.” Mischief looked to her parents for approval before turning back to Hailey and saying, “I’m a matter manipulator, but everything I manipulate sort of turns into candy.”

&n
bsp; “Uh-huh. What are your limitations? How much can you handle?”

  “She’s been running two candy golems at all times since she was four years old,” interjected Treat. “She’s good.”

  “Is she, now?” Hailey turned her flat-eyed gaze on the two former guardians of her season. “Why are you here, Trick, Treat? Why have you brought your daughter to meet me? What are you hoping to achieve? And don’t lie to me. You may be powerful, but I am Halloween, and I’ll know if you try to lie.”

  “We want to come home,” said Trick. “This world is…”

  “It has too many themes,” said Treat. “They can never make up their minds whether it’s a comedy or a tragedy or a farce, and nothing makes sense, and we’re tired. It was fun being heroes for a little while. We’re done. We just want to come home and be guardians again.”

  “You abandoned your duties once,” said Hailey. “Why should I trust that you won’t do it again?”

  “We’re parents now,” said Trick. “We understand responsibility. And Mischief…this world isn’t where she belongs. She should be in eternal autumn, where the bonfires light the night, and trick-or-treat is the first question anyone will ever ask you. We should never have come here. We should never have forced her to grow up here. We want to come home.”

  “And what about you, little girl?” Hailey turned to Mischief, who managed, barely, not to flinch away. There was nothing young in Hailey’s eyes. She looked older than the season, and nowhere near so kind. “What do you want?”

  “I want to know what home is,” said Mischief.

  That seemed to be the right answer. Hailey stepped to one side, beckoning the small family forward. “Well, then. Welcome back.”

  When the door closed behind them, it disappeared, and it was as if they had never been there at all.

  “You’re breaking a lot of rules right now,” said Jacqueline Claus, sitting at her table with her hands wrapped tight around her cocoa mug, trying to pull the warmth of it into her bones. That was getting harder and harder these days. “If your mother catches you…”

 

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