The Lost Heir

by Allison Whitmore

  “I want to see what’s going on.”

  Isabella did not: This place was weird enough already without adding strange sideshows to the mix.

  “Watch me fly!” the goateed man in the center of the crowd announced. They wove their way to the front to find a man in a tuxedo and a silver tie.

  “Just get on with it, Fox!” complained someone from the crowd.

  Fox? Isabella gasped, thumbing the little fox engraved on her necklace, which, since the encounter with the odd bird-hatted woman, was hanging free outside her clothes.

  “Happy Wintertide, everyone! Now! Behold!” The man balanced himself for a moment with his arms extended, took two deep breaths, and then levitated several feet off the ground. Gasps and then cheers erupted from around the crowd.

  Behold? Isabella had heard that someplace before... Ice chilled her veins. It had been in the room in the tunnels, where the three dark figures had spoken in hushed tones. She had the sudden urge to leave.

  “These illusion-weavers,” said a sallow-complected man with a gray beard standing next to Seth, interrupting her thoughts. He looked to be about sixty years old and wore a bowler hat like the man in the diner with the enormous black horse. He was with a round, sour-faced woman, who looked to be about the same age, and a tall, younger man with wavy, golden hair, who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. These were likely his wife and son. “They break the law every time.”

  “What law are they breaking?” Seth asked, looking intrigued.

  “You know!” He pounded his fist into his palm. “Empaths are not to weave upon each other underground unless explicitly under consult.”

  Isabella poised herself to turn away from the scene and pull Seth along with her until her mind held on a word the old man had used. “What do you mean ‘weave’?”

  The man’s female companion chimed in. “Must be a debut.”

  “Or a spy,” the man suggested.

  “We’re not spies,” Isabella insisted. She wouldn’t be chased off by fear so quickly. One word didn’t mean anything. Maybe this was her chance to figure out what was going on, to find Jack, who would surely help her, or even her Nano.

  “Weaving is like manipulating the senses,” the younger man said. His voice was deep and made Isabella tingle a little. “Wish-weaving, dream-weaving. This guy is illusion-weaving…”

  “A form of mind-weaving,” the woman added.

  “So that we think we are seeing something that we’re not. All illusionists do it,” the young man went on. “Of course, we are allowed to weave the elements so long as no harm to the public occurs. But elemental weaving is not the easiest thing to do, for most people. We mainly just use our intuition for guidance and understanding or for whatever work we do.”

  “Oh,” said Isabella, noticing how crystal-blue the young man’s eyes were. “What kind of work do empaths do?”

  “Consults—like sages, wish-weavers, emotion coaches. Then there are the artists—bards, musicians, painters, writers. My dad is a patrolman for the Shadows. That’s why he called you a spy, but I know neither of you are.”

  “How do you know that?” Seth asked, sounding a little hostile, to Isabella’s surprise.

  The young man laughed. “He would have arrested you on the spot.” He nodded toward his father, who’d refocused his eyes on the illusionist now spinning three large silver rings in midair as he continued to float.

  “Then why doesn’t he arrest the illusion dude for mind-weaving?” asked Seth.

  “Not in his domain,” he explained. “Besides, it’s like jaywalking in New York City. No one really cares. He’s a street performer, and it’s the solstice.”

  “What about you?” Isabella asked, half-watching the show, half-focusing on her new friend. “What do you do?”

  “A little of this, a little of that.” He shrugged.

  “I’m Isabella, by the way. Isabella Foxworthy.”

  “Franklin. Franklin Vanderpole.”

  “Is that a fox you’ve got on your seal?” the old watchman asked, poking his finger at Isabella’s chest. “I can’t believe it took me this long to notice it.”

  “What’s the big deal about it?”

  “And you said your name is Foxworthy?” he pressed.

  “Yes. So what?”

  “Renee Fox. Lord and the Universe, rest her soul. She was a great woman. Her husband Sinclair was a great man. But Renee—she was the earth, the moon, and the sky to some of us down here.”

  “No, I’d say Sinclair was my favorite,” his wife added. “Honest, loyal, always true.”

  “Renee had talent.”

  “Sinclair, wisdom,” she finished. “My sister tells me they were lovely people.”

  “Your sister?” asked Isabella.

  But her husband cut her off before she could answer. “They were such gems,” he went on. “Very generous. Oh, yes, my dear. You are welcome at our home any time. We are in Cottage 1515, just west of Bridge K, off the Avenue.”

  His wife elbowed him. “Do not be so forward, Giles. And Franklin, please come by for dinner tonight. It is the solstice, and your aunt will be there.” The woman reached up and pulled her son down for a hug, and then pushed her husband through the crowd and disappeared.

  Isabella laughed, suddenly relaxed, and Seth shrugged. “We are really meeting some interesting people today, aren’t we?” she said to him. He did not seem impressed.

  “I think this guy is pretty cool at least,” Seth said, gesturing toward the illusionist.

  When Isabella looked around for Franklin once more, he was no longer there. It was as if he’d melted away. She’d definitely have to learn the art of disappearing without warning. It seemed like everyone underground was an expert at it.

  “Well, I don’t think he’s cool,” she said. “He’s a little creepy if you ask me.”

  Seth shook his head. He obviously did not agree.

  “You, girl!” the illusionist called out. “Come here.” He floated low to where he just hovered above the brick of the bridge road. The crowd instinctively parted so that Isabella was in his line of sight. She froze. He could be him, the one from the tunnel. She looked to Seth, who wore a shocked expression, likely because they’d just been singled out. ”You are special,” the man continued. “A person of unique skill.”

  “You’re not talking to me, are you?” Isabella asked.

  “You are a diadem child, are you not?” He landed fully onto the ground and moved toward her. She stepped back.

  “No. What’s that?” Seth grabbed her hand. She’d heard that word before, though... Theophilus had called her that, too.

  “No need to be modest. And no need to be protective, young man. A guardian empath. Hmm.” He looked right at Seth as the crowd distanced themselves from both teenagers. “Don’t be afraid, dear spectators. Guardians are part fair folk, but they will not harm you. Will you, young sir?”

  “Uh, no. I won’t.”

  “Part what?” Isabella asked. “He’s a fairy?”

  “They are meant to protect their diadems,” said the strange man as if her shock eluded him.

  “That’s crazy,” said Isabella.

  The man named Fox turned to her. “Why don’t I show you?” He bowed and then straightened, gesturing to Isabella to join him before the crowd. She pushed down any misgivings she might have had about the man and followed the short path toward him.

  He smiled, eyes dazzling in an odd fashion. “Now,” he said, “place these cards in your hands. Hold them up steady. And close your eyes. Think of your deepest desire simultaneously with your deepest fear.”

  She hesitated, shutting her eyes for a moment then peeking out at the crowd. The path the crowd had created for her earlier had closed, and she could no longer see Seth. She tried not to panic and just played along. All the eyes she could see were fastened upon her. She knew there was a power inside her that had sat dormant over time, but lately, everything had been pushing her toward accepting and embracing
these secrets. Isabella wondered if she was truly capable of this. She forgot all about being afraid of the man in front of her and focused on the satisfaction of her curiosity.

  “Go on, child. Humor me. Just try it. Clear your mind and then slowly meld your deepest desire with your deepest fear. Concentrate.”

  Isabella clutched the cards, shut her eyes again, and focused on the first thing that came to her mind…

  The hotel appeared in front of her at a time she’d never seen it before. It bustled with activity. The clothing on everyone looked very 1950s. But Isabella herself was there, too. She saw her great-grandmother, Renee. Suddenly, the moment turned into another and Jack’s face filled her mind. She was both frightened and elated. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as he told her he was the lost heir. He presented Catherine with a check and promised to take care of them both for all time. Then Catherine headed out the door, telling Isabella that she would be fine with Jack. That wasn’t what she wanted... She wanted them both. Then, flames erupted, and she was back in the house where her parents had burned to death, their screams tearing at her ears once more…

  “Behold this diadem child’s wonder!” she heard the illusionist boast. She snapped her eyes open. Where the cards once had once been, balls of white flames shot from her hands. “She is a child of light, this one. Pure light!”

  Everyone gasped.

  “Make it stop!” Seth shouted. Then she saw him again, pushing through the crowd until he was finally at her side.

  “She can do that on her own, young guardian,” the illusionist said to him. Seth didn't look convinced.

  Isabella’s heartbeat continued raging as she instinctively closed her palms over the flames, causing them to disappear instantly.

  “She is a diadem child!” a man shouted from the crowd.

  “But she’s so young,” a lady said, awe filling her voice.

  “And she wears the symbol of the fox,” said a different man.

  “Yes,” the illusionist concurred wistfully. “She looks quite like Beatrice Foxworthy.”

  Silence enveloped the spectators as they stared at Isabella. She felt a sudden sense of serenity like never before. Confused and afraid at first, she began to accept the powers within and smiled as the crowd looked on. She started to understand something: that the traits she'd so hated in herself growing up had been there for a reason, maybe this reason. She had power.

  She looked at Seth, who seemed to be more than freaked out, and announced, “We, uh, have an appointment. We’re sorry.”

  At that, Seth pulled her away from everyone. Cries for her to come back and perform again followed them as they disappeared down the bridge to a darker side of the street. The shops there mirrored old Victorian London. Isabella loved it. ”It seems like a movie set.”

  “What were those people talking about, Iz? It seemed like they loved you and hated you at the same time. Like you were the freak and they weren’t.”

  “He called you a guardian empath. I wasn’t the only one.”

  His jaw set, like he was replaying the words in his mind. Isabella couldn't really tell. ”Did it hurt?” he asked suddenly.

  “What? No. It didn’t.”

  “I don’t know about this, Iz. I just don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? I had fire coming from my hands a second ago!”

  Just then, Isabella spotted a sign with the same set of goggles they’d seen on the poster in the alley; it was swinging above a store several yards ahead of them. “You think that’s it?”

  “Come on. Let’s find out.”

  They approached the shop, but it was dark. They rapped on the door, but no one answered. “Hello?” she called out. Seth stopped knocking and slumped against the door, but she didn’t want to give up. She looked around for another door but didn’t see one. She peered into the dark window; there was little to see. “It’s dead inside,” she said finally.

  “What are we gonna do now?”

  They looked up in the sky and saw a sparkling stream of writing curve into some words. Happy Solstice, Everyone, it said.

  Waves of those Shadow Patrolmen poured down the street, blowing whistles. “Happy solstice. Clear the streets,” they repeated over and over, waving batons and hustling people off the roadway and sidewalks. Soon, people disappeared down holes, and the cars on the rails zipped by in larger numbers.

  A heavyset patrolman with a long nose stopped in front of them. “Get home to your families or your hosts, young people. You know the rules—off the streets until the fireworks at midnight.”

  “We don’t have a host,” said Seth, earning him a punch in the ribs from Isabella.

  “You’re not sky-side, are you? If so, you should be with a host or a guardian at all times. Did you get lost?”

  “No. We’re going to see our aunt and uncle,” Isabella lied quickly. A name materialized in her mind. “The Vanderpoles.”

  The patrolman nodded. “Some of Franklin’s friends, huh? All right, get going.”

  Isabella and Seth got up and began walking back toward the bridge where they'd met the illusionist. “What was that address again?” muttered Seth. He looked over his shoulder. Isabella followed suit. The patrolman was still close to them.

  “1515 something K,” she said, feeling unnerved.

  “Bridge K,” the large patrolman said, speaking up. “Go left then right then up and over. You’ll find it.”

  “Thank you!” Isabella said, relief in her voice. He wasn't going to arrest them or take them back home.

  “Happy solstice, kids,” he said good-naturedly and moved across the street toward a group of short people who were dressed a bit like Mimi had been. ”Morphlings! You're already supposed to be on the other side of town! Get off with you before I file a report!”

  Seth and Isabella shared looks. The Shadow patrolman's voice had gotten rather harsh with the morphling bunch. It didn't look like they'd done anything wrong, either. ”So, I guess we need to find the Vanderpoles in order to stay out of trouble,” said Isabella.

  “I kind of don't want to.”

  “Maybe we can ask them for help or some clues. They seemed to know a lot about my family. And they did invite us. It's their Christmas, I think. And actually, I wouldn't mind relaxing and trying to feel normal.”

  “Normal? Here?”

  “Maybe this is my kind of normal.”

  Seth grumbled and then seemed to have a sudden realization. “Hold up! What was I thinking? They'll probably have food. Yes! Let's go now.”

  As they began to walk and the crowd grew thinner and thinner, Isabella heard a voice: You're so close to me, so close.

  She took Seth's hand. He looked at her a bit surprised. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just don't want to get separated.”

  “Uh, okay. Sure.” He pulled her toward the bridge where she hoped they'd find the Vanderpole family and, eventually, a turn of their luck.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Winter Solstice

  “Go left then right then up and over, you'll find it?” Seth complained, mimicking the patrolman from earlier as they navigated through the quickly thinning crowd. “What's with all these bridges, anyway?”

  “They like to walk. Imagine if all those hipster hikers from Malibu knew about this place,” Isabella commented.

  “Yeah, but the shining blue waters of the Pacific are not cascading over the beautiful shores of beer bottles and soda cans of Santa Monica.”

  “Santa Monica is clean,” said Isabella. Seth shot her a side glance. “Haven't you heard of Heal the Bay?”

  “Whatever, we have to get off this road now. These people are hustling like there’s a house on fire.”

  “You're the one so great at directions. I'm just following you.” Isabella turned onto the footbridge behind him. A few cars on rails zipped underneath them. Traditional holidays often cleared the streets at home, but Isabella wondered why this was so strictly enforced down here.

  “I think we ju
st cross this and then take a right down the road to find Bridge K.” When they got to the middle of the footbridge, Seth pointed beyond the street. “Oh, sweet, I see smaller bridges between the buildings. Those must be the roads where people live.”

  She looked at the now-empty rail line and noticed a light flickering in the distance. Not thinking anything of it, she continued walking with Seth. When they reached the end of the footbridge, she noticed more lights blinking, quick but steady. They looked to be just beyond the alley where she and Seth had emerged into this strange town in the first place. She wondered if this was all some bizarre dream. She'd been having so many of those lately. But for some reason, she knew that it wasn't. She could not explain to herself why she knew that, but she did.

  “This way,” Seth said, striding in the opposite direction of where the lights were coming from. He looked over his shoulder to make sure she was following and then turned and stopped. “Quit daydreaming. I'm hungry.”

  She tried to forget about the strange light and sped up. The clear skies thickened as a grayish haze filled the night. The weather changed rapidly here, she thought. When she reached Seth's side, a sudden chill climbed onto her shoulders and wrapped around her neck. She felt like she was being choked and gasped. “Seth, I can't breathe.”

  “What?” He sounded alarmed and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  The streets emptied further. “Seth, help me...” Isabella stumbled forward, and Seth grabbed her arm. It was so cold. “Please.”

  A stroke of lightning cracked the sky, and the little glimmering lights she'd seen before rained down on them. They were warm, while the gray haze remained icy around her neck. Seth pulled Isabella under the awning of a shutdown shop as the golden lights grew closer, and soon air began fill to her lungs.

  She coughed. “Seth, what's going on?” It was as if the floating lights were returning to her normal state. The gray was now gone. What had that been? Over Seth’s shoulder, she saw something black moving behind the lights. She couldn’t quite make out if it was a person or something else.