Strange Omens

by Jim Stein

***

  South Dakota came and went in a blur, as did Sioux Falls and Minneapolis. Between long days driving and performances, the summer wore on with a steady, reliable rhythm. Our entourage of groupies grew with each stop, pulling true music lovers out of the woodwork, though I still found it difficult to understand the Grims. They just didn’t seem into the group, but more and more joined the traveling show until they outnumbered Brights.

  The busy schedule only gave me passing moments with Quinn, who remained standoffish. The farther east we traveled, the more distant she grew. With a solid week in Milwaukee and only three shows, I worked up a major relationship overhaul plan with dining out, intimate strolls, and more. It would be nice if the weather cooperated with moonlit walks along Lake Michigan.

  The storm that welcomed us to the city was more bluster than rain, and thankfully did not throw ice cubes. Milwaukee was a town divided. Like so many of the cities along our route, the population stayed within the municipal borders. Streetlights sprang to life as dusk approached and our convoy made its way to the lakefront music and arts center.

  Well maintained buildings lined the roads to our right, but side-streets gaped with dark maws on the left. We traveled a line of demarcation that ran straight through downtown. Piper drove, while Max and I gawked. Heads moved about within storefronts and spilled onto the sidewalks of several restaurants. The aroma of baking bread and roasting meat made my mouth water.

  As the strip dropped behind, shadows deepened to true night and blackness loomed ahead. Sudden vertigo had my heart racing. The city in front of us was even deader than those foreboding side streets, illuminated by only occasional flickers low on the horizon.

  “Must be almost there,” Piper said.

  My map wasn’t the best for navigating within city limits, but the massive highway interchange we crossed several blocks back should have been the last. We couldn’t go much farther even if we wanted to.

  “Lake Michigan dead ahead.” I stared at the expanse of blue shining under the map light and felt stupid.

  A good measure of my anxiety drained away. We weren’t heading into a dead quadrant of the city. Ahead lay open water with stars and buoys reflecting on its rippling surface. Pioneer made a wide left turn and headed up the coastal road.

  “Call me Ishmael,” I whispered.

  “You can say that again.” Piper recognized the opening line from Melville’s Moby Dick.

  Two massive white flukes rose a hundred feet above the shoreline. The glass and metal building glistened under a barrage of spotlights. The delicate-looking triangles rising from either side of the arts center proper must have been made of space-age material to have survived looking that pristine.

  Piper followed the RV into the empty parking area where massive spars and guidewires anchored those flukes against offshore winds. If the spars were meant to be masts, the design might mimic an old wooden ship instead of a whale’s tail.

  Pioneer’s air-brakes squealed and hissed. The air smelled of open water, grass, and algae. A gull cried from its lamppost perch, rose into the damp breeze, and wheeled out past the building. A lone figure waited for us, dark suit stark against the white structure. Manfred’s car rolled up and disgorged the road manager.

  “Tonight and tomorrow off,” Billy said from the RV’s open door as I stretched and creaked. “Any plans?”

  “See the sights.” I caught a glimpse of Quinn pulling on a jacket behind him. “Assuming it doesn’t storm.”

  “They call Chicago the windy city, but I think any place on a big lake gets weather.”

  Billy swung down to let the others pile out. We gathered between the vehicles and waited on Manfred. Piper let Max out to use the island of grass that sprouted the gull’s towering lamppost.

  “So, Quinn.” I sidled over and gave her a cautious smile. “We could catch dinner on the strip.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about! Did you catch a whiff of—” Randy coughed, but waved away my concern. “It’s ok, just a tickle. I was ready to hop out and chow down on the way in. We can get a big table.”

  I bit the tip of my tongue to keep my face neutral. Billy and Jinx nodded agreement, so I forced a smile, then frowned at another bout of coughing from the drummer. Between the nurse and antibiotics he’d been cough-free for the last few stops. But the meds ran out in Idaho, and his congestion was ramping up again. Billy slapped him on the back. I found myself standing with my sister instead of my erstwhile girlfriend.

  “She went inside to change,” Piper said in response to my confusion. “Wind and skirts don’t mix.”

  “Free night,” Manfred said as he and Rhonda strolled up. “Go have fun. Equipment unloading at 10 a.m., then we get a tour of the facilities.” He turned to leave.

  “We’re headed downtown. Care to join us for dinner?” Billy’s question pulled him up short.

  Manfred’s smile set off alarms. The manager was never happy, but something had him in a good mood and it wasn’t Billy’s invitation. “No, we have other plans.”

  “Ah, Manfred, accommodations?” I asked, hoping for good news.

  “Talk to Rhonda. She’ll hook you up.” His smile widened at my discomfort.

  “Fine. C’mon, Max.” I tugged the leash and hurried off to catch his assistant, who certainly must have realized I was behind her, but did not deign to slow down.

  I should have let Piper talk to the insufferable woman, then our room might not feel like a closet full of steam piping. Even Max looked doubtful as we threw our bags and his bed in before heading to dinner. The band had a strip of rooms along the back of the arts center. Everyone was thrilled to get a real bathroom and bed, but curiosity nagged, wanting to know if their digs were any better.

  The river walk ran down to Main Street, so we didn’t need to deal with parking Pioneer. All the shops back in New Philly would have been closed for hours, but Milwaukee thrived at night. We followed the delicious aromas and strains of music. Green shutters bracketed the glass to either side of the bistro’s red and white striped awning. We took over a sidewalk table just as a group of Brights got up to leave. I recognized two of the men.

  “Hey, Aarav, where’re the girls tonight?”

  “Off with Dan someplace.” He grimaced. “Had something special to show Anna.”

  I frowned at the thought of Anna with the Grim. At least Cindy was with her, though in truth I didn’t know if that was any better. A cute blonde took our drink orders and handed everyone a menu. The place was full of Grims and Brights, although several groups of the latter paid their tabs and headed out while we looked over the food selection. My choice was easy.

  “Pizza?” Piper gawked as I ordered. “All these wonderful dishes and you order pizza?”

  Hoots and hollers sounded from inside. Grims were not usually the liveliest bunch, but a dozen stood around a big table slapping down money. The cheering grew to a crescendo, then abruptly shifted to dejected grumbles. One happy winner with his back to us scooped up fists full of cash and turned a dazzling smile on the dark-haired woman to his right.

  “What are they doing here?” Piper asked.

  “Apparently…winning money.”

  Manfred handed most of the money to a scowling Rhonda, slapped a few bills back on the table, and urged the group into their next bet. He wore his favorite leather jacket and looked like just as much of a punk as the Grims. They tended to be older than the Brights, but that sullen, insolent attitude put them firmly in my punk-ass category.

  The food and conversation were excellent. Everyone liked the idea of a live album. Randy promised more massive solos before we landed back in New Philadelphia—a comment that earned groans from the table. Even Billy joined in discussions about the band’s future without sweating and looking for an escape route. He’d come a long way since those early planning sessions over the first album.

  I managed to talk Quinn into joining me for a walk back along the water. It wasn’t exactly the intimate stroll I envisioned—with Randy
and Jinx twenty paces behind us and Piper and Billy up ahead—but I checked it off as phase one of my romancing-her-socks-off plan.

  “The chicken alfredo was to die for,” Quinn said as we turned north along the water.

  Tall streetlamps bathed the cement walkway in warm yellows, despite the cool evening air. Schools of tiny fish darted and dashed just below the glowing water to our right. Walking the bright, clean streets was a pleasure marred only by the darkened side streets north of the main thoroughfare. Streetlamps also sprouted up in there at regular intervals, but the tall, moldering buildings and unkempt trees swallowed the light, leaving fingers of shadow stretching away from the occupied areas. I shivered at the thought of what might lurk in the darkness.

  “Why don’t you want the ring?”

  “Seriously?” She stopped dead in her tracks, hands on hips. “You want to do this again?”

  “Look at it out there.” I waved at the darkened streets to our left. “You gotta admit—”

  Randy and Jinx strode past, giving us a wide berth and avoiding eye contact. I couldn’t blame them; the air had grown decidedly frosty.

  “I’m telling you. With my guitar tuned down half an octave and your raspy voice, we could pull off death-metal.” Jinx’s words echoed across the water, punctuated by a wet cough from Randy as the pair moved on.

  “A little extra help can’t hurt,” I whispered.

  “Tell you what…” Quinn grew still, and power gather around her. The sullen amber glow of her hiding spell flickered to life in my magical sight. “Satisfied? Just give me some space and drop the ring.”

  “You need that on all the time for it to help.”

  I kicked myself for the meandering train of thought that ruined our stroll. The ring would add some physical protection beyond just obscuring her presence, but I didn’t dare point that out again. If Quinn and I couldn’t go twenty minutes without arguing, how were we going to make a go of this relationship? I wanted to take her hand, but any spark between us had been thoroughly dowsed by my stupid comment. Still, if I smiled and—

  “Say that’s a pretty shield!” A tiny woman in a bright yellow dress skipped across the street toward us.

  “Pina!” I winced at the relief in Quinn’s voice. “Wonderful to see you.”

  “You too.” The sprite moved like her normal, happy self, but dark circles ringed her eyes and her smile looked forced. “I can’t wait to hear the band.”

  “Long wait,” I said. “Tomorrow is just set up day.”

  “Ed, your shield’s all red and squirmy. You might want to—” Pina’s brittle smile shattered, and she shuddered as mournful sobs exploded from her small body.

  “What’s the matter, honey?” Quinn rushed forward and hugged her close.

  ***

  We walked Pina to Quinn’s room. The rest of the band had met the sprite—were in love with her—but through some quirk of Pina’s magic did not guess her true nature. Quinn wrapped an arm around our sniffling friend as we approached the door, fished her keycard out, and let me do the honors.

  “I knew Rhonda screwed us!” Her room was huge, with deep purple drapes, plush carpeting, and a kitchen.

  “Really, Ed?” Quinn’s glare burned away my outrage.

  We settled Pina on the couch and got her a bottle of seltzer water from the mini-fridge. It was a far cry from filling Max’s bowl at the rusty spigot in our room. Keeping my mouth shut took every last shred of self-control while the fizzy drink distracted Pina.

  “Bubbles tickle my nose.” Pina stared at the bottle and took another sip. “I’m sorry to be such a bother, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Are you in trouble?” Quinn sat on the cushion beside her while I lounged against the frickin’ microwave.

  “It just isn’t fair. He’s never cross with me.”

  “Koko?” I guessed, and Pina gave a sad little nod.

  “Finding him has become so very difficult. When I do, he’s busy and just sends me away.”

  “Men!” Quinn huffed and glared at me. “Their shit always comes first. I think you should march right up to Kokopelli and tell him what you think.”

  “It’s more than that. He’s not exactly mean, just aloof like he’s someone else entirely. Ed, will you talk to him!”

  “Whoa, me? I hardly ever see the guy. He’s only stepped into my dreams a couple times lately.”

  I broke off, not wanting to burden Pina with my own concerns about Koko’s behavior. She seemed fond of little Ralph. Knowing Koko wanted to “take care of” the imp would only increase her angst.

  “Well, if you do see him,” Pina persisted, “tell him I’m sorry and want to help. Something big is going on. The horned serpent has been nosing around, and trouble follows Uktena sure as rain follows a rainbow.”

  I scratched my chin, unsure what to make of that analogy. Pina said time ran different in other realms. Maybe in those places a rainbow was more than a pretty arc of light in the sky. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t likely to see my father anytime soon.

  ***

  The scent of smoke, leather, and hot stones rose as the old man confronted me.

  “What else did you notice?” Koko’s black eyes bored into me with bright intensity.

  Our discussion felt more and more like an interrogation. I’d told all I could remember of the sinister presence in the Philadelphia windstorm, of the mountain lion spooking those horses, and now of the white shapes fluttering in the storm at Deadwood. His hawk-like gaze flitted over me as I dredged up details that just hadn’t seemed important.

  “I don’t know.” My head hurt, which really sucked considering this was a stupid dream. Oddly, we stood in a forest clearing instead of his adobe room. The familiar fire burned hotter than ever. “One of the things fluttered at Randy, though he was clueless until Manfred pushed him inside.”

  “This man saw something in the storm?”

  “I think he was just waiting to dash to his car.” But then why had he suddenly made the drummer get inside?

  “Perhaps.” Koko tapped his weathered cheek with the wooden flute that appeared in his hand. “Watch that one and tell me of any strange happenings centered on him.”

  “The whole tour revolves around Manfred! He’s the band’s freaking manager.”

  “Still, I would know.” His words held the weight of finality if not magic.

  Fine. I could spit out bits of information in the odd true dreaming, no skin off my nose. But as usual, our conversation annoyed me. He wasn’t the only one who wanted answers.

  “Pina says hi.” I couldn’t help but smirk as the statement set him back on his heels, and I pressed the attack. “Yeah, so she wants to know what gives, like why you’re ducking her and being a total jerk.”

  I smiled at his discomfort, then saw genuine pain behind his eyes. But sweat beaded on my forehead as his anger boiled up. I may have gone too far. It wouldn’t be fair if he took it out on lovely Pina.

  “My words…not hers,” I amended, leaning into his wrath. “Be pissed at me all you want, but honestly, she’s miserable. Waterworks gushing because she thinks you hate her.”

  Koko paused, and the wave of anger receded. “She weeps?”

  “Yes, a lot.”

  “Tell her…” Hurt again deepened the lines around his mouth and eyes. But they smoothed out as he found the words. “Tell her to leave me to my work. I cannot be distracted.”

  Time stretched, and I realized he had no more to say. So much for Mr. Sensitivity.

  “Really, no other explanation? Maybe an apology?” I was fighting mad again, any compassion fleeing in the face of the old spirit’s stubbornness. “You hurt her deeply. You owe her an explanation.”

  “I am busy paying what I owe. If there is time later to mend hurt feelings, so be it.” He turned away, and the fire burned low as though suddenly out of fuel.

  Crickets, frogs, and other creatures that had remained silent during our exchange filled the night air with crisp, sharp so
unds. I sat listening by the dying flames, alone.

  16. Brothers, Sisters, and Little Dark Twisters

  “H

  E DOESN’T mean to hurt your feelings.” I stepped over Max and squeezed toothpaste onto my brush. The sink sat in a tiny alcove outside the commode area, which fortunately had a door. “He just has a lot on his plate right now.”

  “It’s good He is well.” Pina petted Max’s head and laughed when he snuggled her face.

  Sleeping curled up with my dog restored much of the sprite’s natural enthusiasm. The dark circles faded to gray rings that could be mistaken for makeup. A flawless blond cascade fell to her narrow shoulders despite having slept on the floor. Morning sun streamed through the curtains to illuminate her pale-green dress—perfect grooming and wrinkle-free clothes a tribute to the sprite’s innate magic.

  Even the ever-present black fur didn’t cling to her, though the stuff had no problem climbing the bed to attack me. Thankfully, Max hadn’t let out any of those offensive doggie aromas during the night. Our tiny room just wouldn’t have handled that well. Perhaps forest sprites also calmed the digestive track of the savage beast.

  I didn’t tell Pina all the details of my dream. Koko was being an ass, but saying he regretted his treatment of his loyal companion was true enough. He was genuinely sorry, even if the stubborn old cuss wouldn’t admit it.

  We joined the band for waffles and sausage under the motorhome’s awning. The air held a chill, but the wind slackened beneath a warming sun.

  “Pina!” Billy rushed over and picked the sprite up in a bear hug that had her feet dangling a full three feet off the ground.

  “Your beard tickles.” Pina giggled and kicked, reveling in the welcome.

  The band fell all over themselves setting her up with breakfast and asking what she wanted to do while in town, never thinking to ask how the diminutive woman managed to get halfway across the country without so much as a car. That’s how Pina affected people.

  “Sleep good?” I asked Quinn as she plopped down a communal plate of golden rectangles.