Elatsoe

by Darcie Little Badger

  “Huh,” Ellie said. “That’s a weird example. Still. It works.”

  “Dang right! Let’s hurry!” He sprinted up the driveway. Jay must have forgotten about the earbuds, because his momentum almost plucked the phone from Ellie’s hand. She made a spirited effort to catch it, lunging forward like an outfielder grasping for a baseball, but the phone brushed her fingertip and struck the ground with a soft thunk. Thankfully, the grass softened the impact, and the video remained connected.

  “Cool your jets!” she said, scrambling after him. “We almost lost the phone. It’s our evidence! Remember that your partner has short legs!”

  “Partner?” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not your sidekick?”

  “You never were!”

  Jay slowed, allowing Ellie to catch up. “We’re both Kirby’s sidekicks,” he said.

  “That’s too true.”

  Ellie glanced at her phone screen; the video was choppy, freezing and buffering every few seconds. She held it a bit higher, hoping that the connection issue would resolve itself. Dreading that it would not.

  “C’mon,” she encouraged her phone. “You survived the fall.”

  As they neared the mansion, four jesters danced in front of their path.

  “Poor guys must be melting,” Jay said, already winded by the heat. The performers were covered head-to-toe. Each wore a long-sleeved jumper, gloves, and knee-high boots with spurs on their heels. A hood-and-hat combo covered everything but their faces, which were slathered with stage paint: white foundation, black lips, and red diamonds around their eyes.

  “No need to run, children,” the red-garbed jester called. “There’s plenty of fun to go around.”

  “My mother just called!” Ellie said. “Our friend got sick. She was taken inside the house.”

  “We need to see them,” Jay said. “We’re minors!”

  “Poor thing,” the green jester cooed. “That’s a risk of the season, regrettably. Come. I’ll take you through the catering entrance.”

  “What’s that?” Jay asked. “A back door?”

  “Yes,” the green jester said, hiding his grin behind a politely lifted hand. “It’s a discreet way for servants to enter and exit the house. Rich people are so easy to offend.”

  “I wouldn’t know from experience,” Ellie said.

  “Are you sure about that?” The jester led them around the house, his steps emphasized by tinny cling, clang, clings from the spurs.

  “Am I sure that I don’t know lots of rich people?” Ellie asked. “Yeah.”

  The jester cackled. “I said ‘offend,’ not ‘know.’ Good job, by the way. Abraham hasn’t slept well in weeks.” He stopped outside a white door that was half hidden by a rose bush.

  “You know who we are?” Ellie asked, taking a step back.

  “Half this party knows who you are. I’m surprised there aren’t ‘Wanted’ signs pinned to every tree in town. ‘Wanted: offensive teenagers. Only dead. Not alive.’”

  As the jester unlocked the door with a skeleton key, Jay whispered, “Ellie, did you see his teeth?” The two of them started to back away.

  “What’s wrong with my teeth?” the jester asked, kicking open the door and whipping around. “They work magnificently.” He grinned, flashing a pair of vampiric canines. Sharp as half-inch knives, they could easily puncture skin, rip apart veins.

  Before either Ellie or Jay could react, the jester grabbed them and shoved them through the doorway. They stumbled into a long, featureless corridor, clinging to each other for support. The fluorescent lights embedded in the ceiling turned on, as if motion-activated, and the door boomed shut.

  “Why are you doing this?” Ellie shot out. She and Jay put their backs against one wall and faced the jester. He removed his silly hat, lowered his hood, and kicked off his boots.

  “Don’t feign ignorance,” the jester said, rolling his dark brown eyes. “Your fainting spells tricked … oh …” He held up his gloved hands, wiggled his fingers, and then curled them into fists. “Nobody. Where’s the ghost dog, kids? Waiting to pounce? Ellie, you should have kept him secret. Tried to surprise me. As it is, you have no surprises left.”

  “We’re just here to help Al,” Jay said. “He’s a vampire too! One of your own kind!”

  “I prefer the term ‘cursed man,’ if you don’t mind,” the jester said. “I was born human, you know. Still am human, where it counts. It’s been a couple hundred years since I ate a solid meal, though.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m no gourmand.”

  “Wait. If you’re two hundred years old, how did you survive the sunlight out there?” Ellie asked. “Your face should be a fireball.”

  “Ah. Blood lust. Explosive sunburns. Heightened sensitivity to Allium. All symptoms of a progressive disease.” The jester winked. “All you need is the right doctor.”

  “Of course,” Ellie said. “Dr. Allerton is your buddy. Why doesn’t he give his minions better uniforms?”

  “I don’t understand,” Jay said, linking arms with Ellie.

  “Yes you do, kiddo,” the jester scoffed. “You’re just stalling.”

  “I’m not!” Jay insisted. “Is Al alive, or not?”

  “Oh, Al again,” said the jester. “He’s alive for now. A couple lawyers from New York are embroiled in a bidding war for him. But you? You can—”

  “How much does it cost?” Jay blurted out. “How much do people pay for Allerton’s magic? How much is Al’s life worth?”

  “More than yours,” the jester chuckled. He bared his teeth theatrically and shouted, “As I was saying … you can run, if you want! Boo!”

  Ellie stepped in front of Jay, intending to protect him, but he did a clever step-and-spin move that reversed their positions.

  “Really?” Ellie asked, amused despite the peril.

  “You can be the brave one next time,” he said.

  “There won’t be a next time,” the jester said, and he sounded vaguely exasperated.

  “Oh yeah?” Ellie asked. “My name is Elatsoe, daughter of Vivian. We are Lipan Apache, and you are not welcome in our home!”

  For a moment, the corridor was silent, except for the shrill hum of fluorescent lights. Then, the jester spoke.

  “My name,” he said, softly, almost reticently, “is Glorian, and I was born along the bank of our fertile Kunétai over two hundred years ago. In those days, I had a different name, a Lipan name, bestowed by parents whose names I do not remember anymore. Curses are strange things, Elatsoe. Illogical magic. I have cut all ties to my family and culture, but because this land was once mine, it always will be home. And your trick? Useless.”

  “Oh.” Ellie said. “Um.”

  “Indeed,” Glorian agreed. “Oh. Um. Ruuuun.”

  Jay and Ellie ran.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “TEN,” GLORIAN BOOMED. “Nine. Eight …”

  Normally, Ellie would call Kirby and rely on his protection. However, Kirby was with her mother. What if Trevor’s ghost started haunting the mansion in earnest? Vivian needed protection too.

  Was Kirby the only option? Ellie could summon wild animals, but without training, they’d cause indiscriminate damage. A grizzly bear, for example, didn’t know the difference between evil minions and good-hearted teenagers. It might tear everyone apart before, satisfied by its bravery, it fell back to sleep.

  Ellie and Jay reached a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor. It was cracked open, an enticing escape route, but they wouldn’t have enough time to blink once Glorian finished his countdown. At two hundred, he must be quicker than a striking rattlesnake. Jay tugged on the door, straining against its weight.

  “Four!”

  “Get in!” Jay said. The door was open wide enough for one person to squeeze through. “Hurry!”

  As the number “one” slipped from Glorian’s black-painted lips, Ellie had an idea. From her training with Grandmother’s beloved mammoth, she knew that the animal responded to one powerful command.

 
Ellie did not, however, know how the mammoth would fare without her beloved Grandma, especially in a claustrophobic hallway. In fact, Allerton’s mansion was crowded, confined, and noisy. Hopefully, the mammoth recognized Ellie as a friend. She concentrated and called her spirit from a corner of the underworld where the Ice Age never ended.

  Three things happened in rapid succession:

  The hallway shimmered.

  “Time’s up,” Glorian said.

  “Charge!” Ellie shouted.

  The invisible mammoth shot forward, a giant bullet through a chamber, and collided with Glorian. The cursed man flew through the air and slammed into the far wall. He slumped to the ground, his nose bleeding, his limbs twisted, as the shimmer faded away.

  “Is … is he … dead?” Jay stammered.

  “I don’t know.” Ellie took a tentative step forward. “Hey, you! Hey!”

  Glorian’s hands curled into fists, and he groaned.

  “Okay,” Ellie said. “Definitely not dead. Go, go, go!”

  The door behind them led to an aluminum staircase that descended at least two stories. Much like the staircase in their high school, it was wide enough to walk four abreast, so Jay and Ellie shared steps, each holding their own rail. Ellie to the right, Jay to the left. Near the bottom, they leapt to the landing and pushed through industrial, windowless double doors. The swinging doors snapped closed behind them, cutting off all but a sliver of light.

  “Where’s the switch?” Ellie asked, patting the wall. It felt cool and smooth. “Use the light on your phone.”

  “Or I could do this! Aha!” A white will-o’-the-wisp blossomed over Jay’s palm. It shone as brightly as a sixty-watt bulb. They were in a large, clinically sterile room with cement flooring, white walls, and rows of long, silver boxes on the ground. Several cabinets lined the far wall, and a medical-grade freezer was against the left. To their right, Ellie saw another pair of double doors.

  “Are those coffins?” Jay asked. “Oh my gosh!” His light flickered erratically, as if tethered to his emotions. Indeed, the heavy metal boxes resembled futuristic coffins. They could easily contain a six-foot-tall adult.

  “Found it,” Ellie said, shoving her palm against three push-button switches. They activated recessed, rectangular ceiling lights.

  “If I lock the door behind us,” Jay said, “am I protecting us, or trapping us? Glorian wanted us to run this way. I’m sure of it.” He slid a deadbolt into place.

  “Nobody has popped out of the freezer,” Ellie said. “For now, we’re safe. But … Kirby? Hey, it’s Kirby!”

  A dog-shaped shimmer guarded a corner coffin. He yapped once in acknowledgement.

  “Why isn’t he with your mom?” Jay asked.

  “She doesn’t need him. That’s great news.” Ellie pointed between Kirby and the box. “You know what else? I think he found Al!”

  Al’s techno coffin was fastened by four heavy screws in its lid. Fortunately, each had a butterfly-shaped knob that allowed easy removal. Jay tentatively knocked on the lid and pressed his ear against the surface, listening. After a few seconds, he gave Ellie a thumbs-up. “Somebody tapped back,” Jay said. “Al’s alive.”

  “I hope you’re good at opening pickle jars,” Ellie said, as she started twisting one of the fasteners.

  “I don’t like pickles.” He started working on another.

  “Do you eat anything in a jar?”

  “Oh, sure! Marmalade.”

  “I hope you’re good at opening marmalade jars.”

  As it happened, they both were. Ellie and Jay unsealed in two minutes flat. Jay shoved one of the gigantic screws into his pocket. The butterfly handle poked out conspicuously. “It’s for self-defense,” he said, when Ellie gave him a look. “If Glorian charges, I’ll stab him in the heart.”

  She disregarded a litany of jokes because, to be honest, Ellie didn’t want her last words to involve screw-related puns.

  “Help me with this lid,” she said. “It weighs a ton.”

  They braced themselves, knees bent, and shoved the lid forward. It budged a couple millimeters, if that. Ellie had used the value “ton” figuratively, but now she wondered how close her guess had been. Was the lid filled with lead? There were handles at the head and foot of the coffin, but it would take considerable strength to lift it, even with two people. If Ellie had more time, she could scrape together a system of ropes and pulleys. More time and more ropes.

  “Can Kirby help?” Jay asked.

  “I haven’t trained him for this.”

  “What about the mammoth? She can knock the lid off!”

  “In this little room? She might crush us instead!”

  A knock rang out, but it didn’t come from the coffin. Glorian started pummeling the locked double doors. He laughed as his fists drummed a catchy rhythm. “Good one!” Glorian shouted. “Send another ghost! I relish the excitement!”

  “Time for one hundred and twenty percent, Ellie!” Jay said, spinning his hands in a twirly maneuver that would look much nicer with pompoms. They threw their weight against the lid again, and it rumbled forward at a snail’s pace.

  “Can you do a … cheer … to block out that loser’s voice?” Ellie asked.

  “I can’t remember any!” Jay confessed.

  “It’s cool.”

  “One reason I struggle with exams,” he said. “Anxiety wipes my brain clean.”

  “I’ll try,” Ellie said. “Go, team, go.”

  “Go, team, go. We’re dynamo?”

  “Yes! It’s cheesy, but it rhymes!”

  An inch. Two inches. The knocking stopped. Ellie glanced worriedly at the second pair of doors. They had no deadbolt lock. She wondered how Kirby would fare against a man like Glorian. So far, the English springer spaniel was, at his meanest, all bark and no bite. In contrast, Six-Great had trained ghost hounds for war. Her heroic pack could rip apart an enemy in seconds. Howl so terribly, entire fields withered. Ellie always reasoned that Six-Great lived in a more violent era, one that transformed pacifists into warriors. Six-Great didn’t fight because she enjoyed it; she had to protect her family and friends from genocide.

  There were still people to protect. That, Ellie now realized, would never change.

  Ellie concentrated, mentally reaching for the dogs of her ancestors. She could sense their jubilance, their loyalty. They were so close …

  But Ellie was afraid to call for them. Afraid to fly too close to the sun.

  “Almost there!” Jay said, his face red with strain. “Keep pushing!” They weren’t almost there, though. The coffin was barely cracked open. Four white fingers shot out, wiggling. “Hungry,” Al croaked. “Too weak. Help …”

  “I’m hungry, too!” Glorian shouted.

  The unlocked doors at their right burst open.

  TWENTY-NINE

  ONE MOMENT, GLORIAN was charging, and the next, Ellie felt like she’d been hit by a tidal wave. She flew back, struck the cement ground, and rolled once before a metal coffin broke her inertia. Her elbows and knees ached. They’d been bruised by the impact, but at least nothing broke. Ellie crawled behind the coffin and peeked over its top. Glorian was thrashing, as if fighting an invisible swarm of hornets. His leg bled where Kirby held it. A canine growl hummed through the room. “Atta boy!” she shouted. “Jay, wherever you are, stay down!”

  Swallowing her winces, Ellie sprinted to the medical freezer and opened its swinging door. Crisp, chilly air flowed out, heavy, pooling against her face. As expected, the fridge was crammed with blood bags. Each bag was labeled with barcodes and eleven-digit numbers.

  “I need backup!” Glorian shouted into a walkie-talkie as he strained against Kirby’s hold. “Don’t send cursed men. She’s Native!”

  “Location?” the walkie-talkie crackled.

  “Dungeon B,” he said. “It’s infested by meddling kids and their ghost. We need an exorcist, too.”

  Ellie grabbed a couple bags and ran back to Al’s coffin jail. She shoved one bag th
rough the crack, relieved when it fit without bursting. “Cheers,” she said. “Drink up.”

  Glorian swung his arms, slashing the air with yellow, talon-sharp nails, straining against Kirby’s hold. “You shouldn’t have touched me, creep,” Ellie said. “You’re my ghost’s chew toy now. By the way, if you turn into a bat, he’ll swallow you whole!”

  Across the room, Jay pushed a cabinet in front of the unlocked doors. It screeched like nails on a chalkboard as metal scraped across cement.

  “We have exorcists on staff,” Glorian taunted. “Like I said: your ghost isn’t a surprise.”

  “If they send Kirby to the underworld,” she said, “I’ll just call him back.”

  “How clever! What if they send you to the underworld first? All the security guards carry guns. Actually … so do I!” Glorian drew a handgun so quickly, Ellie was surprised that she didn’t hear a sonic boom. As he whipped the gun at them, Al kicked the metal coffin lid; it flew off and knocked Glorian aside. The gun discharged with a tremendous crack, firing a bullet into the wall. As Ellie dove for cover, Al tackled Glorian. The two men wrestled for the weapon, evenly matched. The older vampire had been crushed by a mammoth, and Al was recharged by a fresh meal. Plus, Glorian’s leg bled profusely, unable to heal around Kirby’s spectral teeth, which stubbornly held fast.

  “Get food to the other prisoners!” Al shouted. “They can—hey! Stop it! No biting, asshole!” Al wrenched Glorian’s teeth from his shoulder. “Hurry, Jay! He’s like a bloody snapping turtle!”

  Ellie and Jay hastened to unfasten the neighboring coffin. They didn’t even need to push its lid; the prisoner was stronger than Al had been, and once the screws had been removed, she freed herself, gorged on a bag of blood, and stalked over to the wrestling match between Glorian, Al, and Kirby. The freed vampire was Black, with short hair, bat-shaped gold earrings dangling from each earlobe, and a sprinkling of freckles over her nose and cheeks. She grabbed the gun, yanked it away from Glorian, and emptied its chamber, clearly no stranger to firearms. “There are kids present,” she said, “so we should lock him in the coffin. Keep things PG. Make no mistake, Glorian: I am tempted to cut off your head and write angry poetry with your blood.”