by Martha Carr
“Alloys,” the male offered.
“Yes. No alloys. Newly mined iron is best, but anything will do, really.”
“That’s very helpful. Thank you.” Laura nodded, trying to catch every gaze of every Tree Folk focusing on them. “Is there a way to pull the Gorafrex back out? Of the host, I mean.”
“That we cannot say. Your ancestors discovered that on their own, and so must the three of you. Beware. This creature is fast inside a host. Extremely powerful. And it has had more than enough time in solitude, existing with nothing but its own rage and growing desire to exact revenge upon those who put it there. Perhaps that has made it even stronger.”
Nickie hugged her acoustic closer. “Cheery thought.”
“It is not our place to intervene,” the female elf said. “Though with this, I believe we would. If there was anything we could do.” She set her feet on the branch below her and leaned forward over the ground, stretching her long arms behind her from the upper branch she clutched with ease. “It would be a shame to have such a gifted creator taken from us before all her music has been played.”
“Oh. Uh, thank you.” Nickie turned to look at her sisters.
“Is there anything else you wish to ask?”
Laura met Nickie’s gaze. Her sister offered a little shrug and shook her head. “No. If you’ve told us everything you can about how to capture the Gorafrex, I think that’s everything. Thank you for sharing as much as you have.”
Lips pressed together, the male elf chuckled through his nose. “We are not reclusive by nature, you understand. And we like witches.” A few of the other Tree Folk whooped, and the echo of it spread through the others gathered in the trees. “This ship has grown too crowded and too loud since we came aboard.” Someone, somewhere, screeched with laughter. The male elf grinned. “Despite this, Austin is a lovely place. Especially when the music comes right to us.”
More laughter and cheers rose from the other elves, and the trees shook with so many bare feet jumping up and down and so many fur-tufted hands pulling on the branches. Nickie laughed despite herself. “Now this is a standing ovation.”
The noise died down, making the forest radically quiet in comparison. The Tree Folk stared at the witches with ice-blue eyes, a few swaying side to side where they stood or sat or lounged.
“Well, thanks for your time.” Laura nodded at her sisters and started to turn away.
“I have one more question,” Emily said, squinting up into the trees.
“Ask it, young witch.”
She pointed toward the closest tree elf. “Do you guys have opposable thumbs on your feet, too?”
A dark shape dropped from the branches above her and dangled. A younger-looking elf, his golden hair falling in a curtain below his head, grinned upside-down at Emily and wiggled his fingers.
She jumped back, gazed at his feet wrapped around the tree branch, and laughed. “Excellent.”
The elf in front of her giggled, and it was wildly contagious.
Grinning, Emily turned and nodded at Laura.
Laura rolled her eyes, pausing long enough to pick up her sister’s guitar case. Nickie laughed with the Tree Folk, too, and hundreds of gleeful voices followed them through the woods until they’d reached the edge of the trees.
16
After a short stop at the University of Texas campus so Emily could pick up her car, Laura drove Nickie back to their house. Before they’d shut the front doors after getting out of the silver Taurus, Emily’s slate-gray Honda Civic barreled down Pressler Street and came to a screeching halt at the curb. Emily hopped out of her car and cocked her head at her sisters. “You guys didn’t have to wait for me by the car.”
“We just pulled up,” Laura said. Nickie opened the back door to grab her guitar case, chuckling and shaking her head. “I dropped you off on the street. How did you get here so fast?”
“Um…because I don’t drive like a grandma.”
“What?”
Nickie snorted and passed them to head up toward the front door. “Everyone drives faster than you, Laura.”
“Except other grandmas.” Emily put a reassuring hand on her oldest sister’s back and nodded before heading up the stairs after Nickie.
“I drive the speed limit.”
“Okay…”
Laura followed them inside, muttering about traffic laws and defensive driving. Nickie set her guitar case against the wall, then sat on the arm of the couch and flipped backward over it, throwing her hands up over her head. Her bare feet dangled in the air over the armrest. “Think I left my boots in your car.”
“I’m hoping you meant it when you said they didn’t smell.” Laura slumped into the armchair as Speed clicked through the dog door leading into the mudroom from outside. The bulldog trotted into the living room, tongue lolling, and plopped down on the wood floor as Emily corrected herself so she wouldn’t step on the center of his back.
“Speed, could you not—whoa.” She stumbled over him and turned around to raise an eyebrow. The dog had already closed his eyes, ignoring her completely. Pulling the ottoman away from the other armchair and more toward the coffee table, Emily then climbed up onto it and crossed her legs beneath her. “So. Tree Folk, right?”
“Opposable thumbs?” Laura pursed her lips. “That was your only question?”
“What? You covered all the important ones.”
“Em, how is that important?”
“I just wanted the full picture. Like maybe the Tree Folk are the missing link, you know? Thought you might be interested in that.”
“That’s anthropology. I’m—”
“An archaeologist. I know.” Emily nodded and grinned. “I’m just messing with you. I asked about their feet out of pure curiosity, okay?”
“I like those tree elves.” Nickie put her hands behind her head, her knees still hooked over the arm of the couch.
“Yeah, and they really like you.”
“Maybe I’ll go play for them when I’m not booked. You know, get in the extra practice in front of a wild crowd.” Nickie snorted at her own joke, and Emily’s giggle built on top of it until they were both hooting with laughter.
“I honestly don’t get the humor with you two sometimes.” Laura leaned back in the armchair, crossed one leg over the other, and stretched her arms out on the armrests. “Anybody else think we should focus on what the Tree Folk told us and get to work with, oh, you know, stopping a super-powerful Gorafrex that possesses humans, puts them in serious danger, and wants to kill us and all the other witches and wizards it can get its hands on?”
“Its nonexistent hands.” Emily pointed at Laura and nodded.
“Figurative hands, yeah. Why aren’t you guys taking this seriously?”
“We are taking it seriously!” Nickie drew her legs back over the arm of the couch and propped herself up on the cushion. “We are. But sometimes, the only way to handle something super serious is to goof around a bit.”
“Yeah.” Emily’s smile faded. “Like how Grandma used to sit outside on the porch, all day, even in like a-hundred-and-fifty-percent humidity. As long as she had the iced Arnold Palmer in her hand, she said she preferred the heat.”
“I dunno.” Laura looked affected. “That Arnold Palmer was half bourbon there toward the end.”
Her sisters burst out laughing again, and Laura joined them.
“See?” Emily slapped her thighs and grinned. “You feel better after making a grandma joke, don’t you?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Okay. Any ideas where to start after what the Tree Folk told us?”
“Iron sounded like a good thing.” Emily glanced between her sisters. “I’m down to just roll up wherever I go, packin’ iron weapons.”
“Yeah? Where are you gonna keep it? You gonna get a dagger sheath and string it on your belt?”
“First of all, I don’t wear belts. And, second of all, I didn’t say anything about a dagger. I wanna rock a mace. Pure iron mace.”
“What?” Laura laughed. “Who uses a mace?”
“Hawkgirl.” Emily nodded, but her smile faded when both her sisters shot her clueless looks. “Seriously? Nothing?” Laura pressed her lips together, and Nickie shrugged. “Man. Jeremy would’ve gotten it.”
“Yeah, what was going on with you and him yesterday…what?” Laura glanced at Nickie, who slowly shook her head.
“Uh, the only thing I need to say about Jeremy is that he has absolutely nothing to do with the Gorafrex.” Emily made a goofy face and shrugged. “So how ‘bout we get back to iron weapons?”
“Okay. Anybody have any miner friends? Dig us up lots of iron real quick?”
Nickie sat up straight in the couch and widened her eyes. “We could ask Gilroy.”
“What?”
“Yes!” Emily leapt from the couch. “When was the last time we asked him anything, huh? When life started getting boring, that’s when. We got jobs, we got busy, we stopped asking questions.”
“No.” Laura shook her head. “I’m not asking that stiff chunk of rock anything.”
“Good one.”
“I wasn’t joking. He’s a jerk.”
“Which makes it hilarious,” Nickie added. “The guy’s a wealth of information, Laura. And he forces you to think outside the box. By you, I mean like the general you. All of us.”
“Oh, my god.” Emily doubled over with a soundless laugh, then straightened and gasped for air. “Remember that time you asked him how much a ton weighed in pounds?”
Nickie giggled.
“Yeah.” Laura shot her youngest sister an unamused glance. “He told me to go pull out the scale and see for myself.”
“Ha! Priceless!” Emily waved her arm toward the foyer. “Let’s go.”
“This is gonna be the least helpful thing ever.”
“Come on.” Nicki stood from the couch and stepped toward the armchair to offer Laura her hand. “At the very least, we’ll figure out whether or not we’re asking the right questions in order to find this Gorafrex. That’s what he’s for.”
“Well, either that or making little girls cry for a week straight.” Even though that made Nickie laugh, Laura still took her sister’s hand and let Nickie pull her to her feet.
“But we’re not little girls anymore, are we?”
“Thank god for that.”
“To the bust!” Emily stood in the foyer, her finger lifted in the air as she struck a heroic pose and waited for her sisters. The living room walls trembled with a low groan. “Whoa, whoa. Come on. Hurry up before I lose you.” She waved them closer, and the other Hadstrom sisters picked up the pace.
They leapt into the foyer just before the living room walls closed in and disappeared, shutting the sisters off from that part of the house. The smaller dining room left of the kitchen spun in circles, then split and elongated into two branching hallways. The staircase groaned and broke in half up the entire length; each stair flattened and flipped open, over and over until they’d melted together to create another series of walls and rooms within the Hadstrom residence.
“Okay, take a guess,” Emily said. “I’m gonna go with either the forge…or the potions lab.”
“Hmm.” Nickie stroked her chin. “I say the basement. Dark, dry, dusty. Perfect environment for quick and stinging wit.”
“How ‘bout a rubble heap?” Laura wobbled her head and rolled her eyes.
Her sisters laughed, then the walls of their house, except for the foyer where they stood, stopped moving, and they were left with two options: the hallways on their left, or the short, single door in front of them that had replaced the staircase.
“Huh. No points for anyone.” Emily shrugged.
“Yeah, the mirror room didn’t even cross my mind.”
Laura shot her sisters an exasperated glance. “He’s probably in there admiring himself from every ancient, dusty angle. Come on.” She set off toward the door with the tiny, two-inch mirror mounted in the center. Nickie and Emily followed close behind.
On the other side of the door, a giant room with an incredibly low ceiling stretched out in front of them; it was much bigger than the widest measurement of the house, but that only mattered on the outside. Mirrors lined all four walls and filled every inch of space, including the back of the door when it shut behind them and the ceiling overhead. Thousands and thousands of mirrors of different shapes and sizes, framed and unframed, warped and level, strikingly brilliant, others covered in dust and streaks of grime.
“You know, I thought we’d hit the jackpot when mom showed us her family heirlooms,” Nickie said, turning as they stepped inside and catching her reflection on every surface but the floor beneath her.
“Right now, I’m not so sure Dad’s family legacy is much better than this.” Laura scanned the room; while there was nothing in it but mirrors, it was difficult to orient oneself when a thousand different versions of everything reflected off everything else.
“There he is.” Emily’s smile bloomed on her face. She pointed across the room at the pedestal in front of a six-foot mirror—the height of the room itself—with a thick, bright-red frame.
“Gilroy,” Laura called, stepping toward the pedestal.
The sound of grinding stone echoed against every mirror, making it startlingly loud. The pedestal turned to face them.
“Trash-lover,” Gilroy replied.
Laura sighed. “Here we go.”
“Nah. Come on.” Nickie nudged her sister with her shoulder and wiggled her eyebrows. “This’ll be fun.”
17
“Let me guess. You’re here to prove again how much you don’t know.” The grinding-stone sound quieted when the marble bust of a man with short-cropped hair and a sharp, aquiline nose spoke. Gilroy’s stone lips moved gracefully, but his biting remarks were never as smooth.
“Isn’t that the point of your existence?” Laura asked, stopping in front of the pedestal and folding her arms. “To answer people’s questions with what they don’t know?”
Gilroy lifted an eyebrow carved in great detail. “Is that seriously your first question?”
Laura rolled her eyes and glanced at Nickie. “See?”
“He’s never gonna change, Laura.” Nickie smiled and shook her head. “That part’s on us. So let’s get crackin’, huh?” She faced the statue that had been in their family for longer than anyone could say. “Hi, Gilroy.”
“Greetings, you dirty hippie.”
Nickie glanced at her bare feet and laughed. “Off to a great start. Hey, what do you know about the Gorafrex?”
“What don’t I know about the Gorafrex?” Gilroy stuck out his stone tongue and blinked.
“Okay, Gil.” Emily leaned toward him. “Where’s the best place for us to find the iron we need to take it down?”
“Every living thing on this scrapheap has been bopping around in space for this long in a literal spaceship, and you come to me to ask that question. Ha!”
The youngest Hadstrom sister rubbed her hands together and sucked in a breath. “Ooh. We’re just getting started, my friend.”
“What’s the best type of weapon for getting the Gorafrex into its prison?” Nickie asked.
Gilroy blinked. “You literally answered your own question.”
“Okay. Let me rephrase. What’s the best shape for an iron weapon to take if we want to subdue and capture the Gorafrex?”
The bust shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
“There! See?” Nickie turned to Laura and grinned. “Straight answer.”
Emily laughed. “Question number five. I think that’s a new record.”
“Great. We’ve only wasted four-fifths of our time.” Laura pressed her lips together and scowled at the stone encyclopedia. “Do we use the weapons on the Gorafrex when it’s inside a human host,” she swallowed, “or when it’s in its true form?”
“Hit it with a slingshot, for all I care.”
Laura blew out a long, slow breath to keep her irritation under control.
Emily shrugged. “Okay, how ‘bout this?”
“Yeah, how ‘bout it?” Gilroy replied.
“Come on, you know that wasn’t my question. It’s this. If we use iron weapons against the Gorafrex while it’s in a human host, will it hurt the human?”
“Only when the Gorafrex drops the human like a used glove.”
“Will it hurt the Gorafrex?” Laura asked.
Gilroy blinked at her and cocked his head. “Will the what hurt the what?”
“Oh, my god. This is infuriating.” She took another breath. “If we use iron weapons against the Gorafrex while it’s inside a human host, will our weapons hurt the Gorafrex?”
“That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.”
“Hey! Well done, Laura.” Emily gave her oldest sister a playful smack on the back. “Three questions, one answer.”
“I think having grown up since the last time we played this game makes a serious difference.” Nickie studied the bust on the pedestal with a confident smirk. “So how do we get the Gorafrex out of a host?”
Gilroy smacked his stone lips and rolled his eyes. “Well…how does someone get you out of your clothes?”
Nickie threw her head back and laughed. “Depends on who’s trying to get them off.”
“Nickie…” Laura frowned.
“I’m just sayin’. If we’re talking about Chuck, the answer’s ‘however he wants’. Anyone else?” Nickie shrugged. “I have no problem punching an idiot where it hurts.”
“You wouldn’t actually punch someone.”
Nickie raised an eyebrow. “I have actually punched someone. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it?”
“Right.” Laura turned back to the bust. “I’m guessing the whole ‘depends who it is’ part comes into play. So, Gilroy, who’s the specific person who can pull the Gorafrex out of a host so we can lock that thing up again where it belongs?”
The bust cleared his throat, then pursed his lips. “No one.”
