by JM Guillen
“You alter reality itself, with little more than your will.” Simon sighed. “You’ve been doin’ it by accident, but there it is.”
“I think you’re making this much more than it is.” I scowled.
“I have something for you.” His voice gentled, far more than I’d heard previously. He reached inside his coat. For the first time, I noticed the assortment of garbage he’d collected in there; a fork, an oversized stopwatch, and an old fashioned key, among other things.
He pulled out a bird feather. It shone a brilliant blue while white and black stripes slid along its edge. The tip of the quill had several small beads fastened to it, each with meticulous carvings scrawled on their surfaces.
“Blue jay?” I queried. I didn’t know much about birds.
“Take it.” Simon’s gruff tone held more command than request.
“Why?” Things suddenly seemed far too real. Some dim part of my mind felt certain if I took that feather, things might never be the same.
“You don’t hafta, ’a course.” Simon fixed me with a cool eye. “You can leave. Just get up and walk out.” He shrugged. “Wonder for the rest of your life.”
“Fuck you,” I breathed, not glancing up at him.
“Language.” He spoke softly.
“I’m scared.” I stared up at him now, brutal honesty stumbling from my lips. Given the way the hat had reacted, I didn’t think my fear was unreasonable.
“Good.” He showed me a small smile. “You should be, Peacock. Doesn’t change anything though.”
It didn’t, and I knew it. I reached for the feather, trembling.
The moment I touched it, a piece of my mind CRACKED like a deep shelf of ice. The world around us thrummed with unseen power. I started and felt sharp electricity crackle in the feather.
“Oh.” My eyes widened. “Um.”
Within the shadows of my mind, in places where dreams lurked, a Wind sang my name. It started as a quiet thing, but as I paid attention to the sound, it grew louder.
“It’s big.” I stared at Simon. “Like a symphony.”
“This wind has danced through the world before humans walked upright.” He leaned closer and quirked the corners of his mouth. “It is the breath of the world.”
“It’s a thunderstorm,” I gasped. “And it’s inside me.”
“It’s your birthright. It’s power and wonder and mystery.”
For a long moment, we sat in silence. When I spoke again, my voice trembled like a child.
“I—” I shook my head, my voice small. “I don’t want this.”
“No one cares,” he said simply.
We sat there, staring at each other.
“It’s a hurricane.” The beginnings of tears threatened. “I can’t hold it.”
“Good analogy. It’s a tempest of force, and you can shape it. I can teach you to master it. Some, anyway.”
“I—” I shook my head. “It’s way too big.”
“Maybe. But you can command it. Just as easily as you can move your arm.”
“No way.” I shook my head again. Then, just to prove him wrong, I reached my arm forward. “That’s impossib—”
Before I could finish the word, a burst of air, strong enough to knock a man flat, burst out from me in all directions. Menus, straws, and glasses went sailing. Simon’s empty plate went into the seat. The blinds at the window next to us furled up, and a waitress, almost blown off her feet, stumbled into a man’s table.
“What the fuck—?” A lone diner, across the room, turned to look.
For a long moment, no one in Merkin’s spoke. We simply all stared at each other, with several variants of ‘what the hell?’ scrawled across our faces.
“Truck went by.”
I turned back toward Simon, whose voice rang with melody.
“A truck?” a man in a plaid jacket glanced out the window, and then to Simon. “Unlikely.”
“That’s what happened.”
I noted Simon held an ace of spades in his left hand, and twirled it slowly as he scanned the patrons.
Everyone who looked at him had their gaze drawn to the card before going a bit wide eyed.
“Happens all the time,” the waitress agreed flatly. “I need a new job.”
The diners went back to their plates, eyes glazed.
Simon placed the card back inside his coat. Inside, I noticed a freaking throwing star, cleverly attached to the fabric.
“A playing card, huh?” I nodded toward his coat. “Not the throwing star?”
“No!” He seemed horrified. “That would’a killed everyone here!”
“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Thing is,” Simon cleared his throat. “This gift of yours is a bit more’n just ‘jumping,’ huh?” He plucked the feather from my hand. Instantly, the maelstrom of Wind died back to scarcely a whisper.
“Yeah.”
“Teaching you anything more about it is gonna be a pain in my ass,” he grumbled. “So here’s the deal.” He began fumbling in a pocket.
“Okay.” My tone held far less snark than usual.
“I see you got pierced ears. Noticed yesterday. So, if you decide you’d like to talk more about this, maybe learn a little, you put this on.” He slid a gold earring across the table.
“Just one?” I furrowed my brow at it. Tiny inscriptions glinted on the surface, I noticed.
“Put it on, and I’ll be able to find you, no matter how far you wander.” He sucked at his teeth in thought, for a moment.
“Um, okay.” I took the gold hoop earring. It truly wasn’t my style. But oh, beneath my fingers I felt the uncanniness of the thing. It hummed and sang, buzzing against my skin.
“Listen, Puddin’ Pop, you either put this earring on or you don’t. If you do, then I’ll teach you.”
“And what does that mean?” I folded my arms. At least he doesn’t seem to be a creeper..
“It means won’t never ask you personal questions. I don’t wanna know ‘bout your family or school or boyfriends. An’ it means two more things.” He stuck out one finger. “I’ll show up when it’s time to show you something new.” He stuck out a second. “You keep your mouth shut.”
“That’s it?”
“But if you don’t put the earring on, then leave this alone. Never do any more than the tiny bit you use for your gymnastics training or whatever that is.”
“Parkour,” I muttered distractedly. Suddenly a question came to me. “Why not?”
“Because I say so.”
“You do.” I folded my arms.
“It’s dangerous, Little Bird. There are watchers called the Silent Gentlemen.” He said it casually, but the oddness of the name stuck out to me. “They don’t take kindly to the kind of things you do.”
“Yeah?” Some of my fire returned. “What are they going to do?”
“I literally don’t know.” He paused, and fixed me with a gaze that chilled. “No one does.”
Simon pulled out a wallet that seemed in no way magical and dumped some bills on the table. He stood, hesitated, and spoke again. “You’ll just disappear. You’ll never see your family again, nor your friends. People’ll forget you ever existed. The Gentlemen find you wherever you run.”
“Just like that?” I quirked up my mouth. “What if I put on the earring then?”
“Don’t work that way,” he sighed. “Don’t push this one, Bubbles, I mean it. They’re the worst kind of news. Either put the thing on or don’t.”
With that, he walked out of Merkins, and did not look back.
“You okay, honey?” The waitress came over, and took Simon’s plate. I smiled at her, and nodded.
I took a last sip of my shake, and tried not to tremble.
But honestly, I worried I would never be okay again.
9
August 29, 1997-Present Day
New York, New York
“I assume there’s some kind of montage.” Baxter looked up from his drink, and a silly grin teased t
he edge of his lips. “Like, a few days go by and you decided you wanted the training after all.”
“And Simon has her come over to his house and makes her do things like paint his fence or wax his car?” Rehl chimed in.
“I think less Karate Kid and more Empire Strikes Back.”
“It was something like that.” I reached up to my ear and unfastened the lone hoop earring there. For once, it did not buzz and sing at my touch. “I put this bad boy on less than a week later, but rarely had to use it to call 911. I mean, before today.”
“Which isn’t to say you never needed any help.” Simon eyed me. “What was it, six months later and you stumbled into trouble all on your own?”
“A kid went missing.” I turned to Rehl. “Middle schooler. All of Syracuse went nuts trying to find him.”
“Patrick Marshall, wasn’t it?” Simon did not meet my gaze.
“Yeah.” I shook my head, ruefully. Simon’s memory never failed to amaze me.
“I suppose you saved the kid?” Alicia’s red locks brushed her hand as she finished her beer.
“Found him more by accident than anything else. I was in a tabletop group; just a drop in at one of the local gaming stores. I heard some other kids say they thought they had seen Patrick playing near a certain drainage grate. Long story short, I went poking around.”
“Long story short, Patrick had been eaten alive.” Simon glanced around the table and briefly met the eyes of each of my friends. “Our little hummingbird ended up wanderin’ the sewers of Syracuse before she decided that maybe she needed a little help.”
“What was it?” Alicia breathed.
“Dunno.” Simon shrugged. “It took the shape of an old woman at first but it weren’t human. Can’t say how long it’d lived down there, but if it had ever been a woman, it weren’t anymore.”
“We didn’t ever see its actual form,” I said, my voice soft. “That kid wasn’t the only one. Corpses hung from the ceiling, all wrapped up like they were in some kind of mucousy cocoon.” I shuddered at the memory.
“And you killed it,” Baxter stated flatly.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Not that I packed much of a wallop back then, but I knew when to get help.” I tilted my head toward Simon. “This old geezer is a great planner, and always has the most phenomenal toys.”
“A good plan almost always wins the day.” Simon raised his drink to me.
For a moment, we sat in silence.
“What else?” Bax turned to me and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “I mean, that wasn’t the last time, right?”
So Simon and I took turns talking about the last several years. I opened with some of the lesser things I had stumbled across, like the creepy little boy that had shown up in Bridgeport. Children claimed to have nightmares about a mangy-headed little kid who would wait until they were asleep and sneak into their room.
Once there, like the horror he was, he would tickle them.
“Apparently, they couldn’t move, couldn’t scream.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Like night terrors?” Alicia asked, unconvinced.
“Might be that things like him ‘re part of the reason why kids have night terrors,” Simon grunted. “Either way, the little freak would tickle them until they bled.”
“Until they bled?” Rehl wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“The little cretin would hover over them and lick the blood off their skin.” I glanced from Rehl to Alicia. “The next day there would be no wounds, but it made the kids sick.”
“It makes me sick.” Alicia crossed her arms over her ample chest.
“There was a lot more.” I finished my beer. “McDonell Elementary for one. The school out in Van Buren where the younger children drew pictures of an emaciated woman. They said she lived behind the school’s walls.”
“Behind the walls?”
“Some of them started dreaming of her. They said she had died in the school, had been walled up in the basement and starved to death.”
I told them all of it. I told them about the shambling spirit we had found up in Three Rivers. I told them about the baker who had inherited his father’s ring—which turned out to be the home of a shadowed beast that would kill whomever the baker was upset with.
It had been a long six years.
“The most important part is this, though.” Rehl waved one hand, his voice a little loud. “Are we going to be safe?” He poked at me. “Or has the Masked Brava here gotten us all in over our heads?”
“She’s the worst kind ’a friend,” Simon drawled sagely. “I can’t imagine y’all wanna hang out with her much anyways.”
“I hate you all,” I groused.
“Well, obviously things are a bit more complicated than you believed.” Simon rubbed the back of his neck. “After a fashion, however, you shouldn’t be in much more danger than you were a coupla’ days ago. Nothing’s really changed.”
“Except that now we know.” I couldn’t quite understand the trace of bitterness in Alicia’s voice. “Now we know Liz is in danger and, surprise, we might be as well.”
“Um, are you okay?” I leaned across the table, closer to Alicia. “You seem… irritated.”
She just stared at me for a moment, hazel eyes intense, and held out her necklace. It trembled slightly in her hand. “You know how long I’ve been studying this stuff? I mean, meditation, chakras, seasonal rituals, and all kinds of personal practice!” she exclaimed, her voice bitter.
“How long?” Baxter idly scratched his cheek, clearly oblivious to her point.
“Years! And after reading approximately a hundred books on personal empowerment and manipulating the elements and worshiping ancient goddesses, guess how often I get to control the wind?” Her head dropped and she heaved a sigh. “That sounds petty, it’s just—”
“There are some days that I wish I could give it away.” I skewed my mouth to one side.
“Have you tried?” she snapped.
My head dropped. “Look, ’Licia, I’m sorry. There are times when I’d pay cash to just be a regular chick.”
“Like me.” She rolled her eyes. “I bet. It must suck going on adventures and being some kind of…” she paused, reaching for words. “Windslinger.”
“Lots of days, I’d flat give it to you, if I could. I just can’t.”
“Well, if you find some magical power you can give away, can I be on the list?”
“’Course.” I reached over and poked her. “You’re my girl.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know.” She blew out a big sigh then and gave me a wavery smile. “You keep it.”
“I think the rest of you are probably safe.” Simon leaned back in his chair.
“You know, I thought I was safe while we watched Dread Manikin in the anime room.” Baxter stroked the beard he didn’t have. “Turned out I wasn’t.”
“Pigtails here is in the middle ’a some bad business with someone whom she never should have messed with.”
“I’ll say,” I muttered.
“That being said, I don’t think this particular problem is going to come lookin’ for any of you.” He gazed around the table again. “I think tonight you just happened to get in the way, and I’m gonna take measures to make certain this particular problem gets handled.”
“Yeah?” I regarded him, relief obvious in my voice. “You have a plan?”
“I always have a plan.” He seemed a touch surly, and his gaze slid away from mine. “Even when someone’s been powerful stupid.”
I shrank in my chair little bit. Perhaps this was not the best night to tell him about my rendezvous with Garret.
One thing at a time.
“Now, I have to get the batteries in this thing all charged up again.” He tapped the earring and shook his head mockingly at me. “Pain in my butt.”
“Yeah?” I held it out. “It felt weird when I used it. More difficult.”
“You weren’t exactly in a typical locale.” He shrugged. “I drained the thin
g dry comin’ to find you.”
“Well, if we’re probably safe,” Baxter hedged as he looked at his watch, “I think it’s time for me to head back to the hotel. I’ve had more than enough adventure for one day.” He glanced at his watch. “Two days. It’s already tomorrow.”
“It’s after midnight?” Rehl shook his head in in the tiniest bit of disbelief. “I had no idea.”
“If you lot want to tuck in, that’s square enough.” Simon raised one eyebrow at me. “I need to spend a little time chattin’ with my wayward troublemaker.”
“Because of plans?” I questioned hopefully.
“Because of plans.”
“Are you still going to meet with me tomorrow?” Baxter asked. “You wanted to head over to the shop.”
“Yeah.” I’d almost forgotten the pile of stress regarding my dad. “What if I give you a call when I crawl out of bed?”
“Maybe we can all meet up after.” Rehl chuckled as he elbowed Alicia, “Some Liz was going to run us through a dungeon tomorrow afternoon.”
“The Uncanny, wasn’t it?” She gave me a grin.
“That sounds great.” I smiled at my friends, yet I felt my attention drift away from them and a slight frown form on my face.
I had things to do, important things. Regardless of what Simon may have said, Mister Lorne represented far more danger than I had believed, and I had no guarantee that my friends weren’t in the worst kind of danger. Furthermore, this situation with my father struck me as just odd. Even if I didn’t have Mister Lorne’s otherworldly goons on my back, I’d be eager to spend my time tracking him down.
For once in my life, I just wasn’t in the mood to game.
Leveling Up
August 29, 1997
New York, New York
“You’re a sheep-headed idiot.”
Once my friends had left, Simon sat for a long moment not speaking. I’d known him long enough to know that when he got in a foul mood it was best to simply allow him to work through his own funk.
“Well, I have a wonderful teacher.” I gave him a grin, but his demeanor did not change.
“I told you to stay away from him. You don’t even understand what you’ve done.”