by Alex P. Berg
I sighed. “Heather, please. That came out wrong. I know being co-captain isn’t a guarantee of playing time. But to have worked so hard only to get stapled to the bench?”
“That’s not an excuse. Everyone on the team works hard, and most of the girls look up to you for working the hardest—at least they did until yesterday. You can still make it up to them, show them they weren’t wrong about you, but you need to suck up your pride and get your head out of your ass.”
I hung my head, feeling like I’d been punched in the gut.
She stood and pushed her chair in. “See you tomorrow at practice?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Heather walked off. I picked up my fork and looked at what was left of my salad, wondering if I should bother shoveling it in. Before I could make a decision, another shadow fell over me.
I cursed under my breath. “Great. What now?”
I looked up to find Tanya standing at my shoulder. “Hey, Lexie. Everything okay with you and Heather?”
Tanya wasn’t on the softball team. She played soccer instead, but she knew most of the girls. We went to a lot of the same parties. “Yeah. It’s fine. What’s up?”
“Not much.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Just wanted to let you know there’s this weird hobo guy who’s been asking around for you.”
“Hobo?” I said. “Is he three and a half feet tall? Smells like rubbing alcohol?”
“Uh… no. He’s regular sized, and doesn’t smell like much of anything, thank God. He’s got this ratty, knee-length leather jacket, though. Crap. There he is.”
“Larry?” I turned and followed Tanya’s gaze. Sure enough, there he was at the entrance to the dining hall, casting his head about as he looked at the tables. The students gave him a good fifteen foot berth, as if he had ebola or something.
“Wait, the entrepreneur guy? That’s who you hung out with last night?”
I could hear whatever respect Tanya had for me melting rapidly. “No. I mean, sort of. It’s a long story.”
Larry spotted me, waved, and walked my way. The other dorm residents curved around him like a bubble in space-time. Then he started shouting. “Lexie. Lexie!”
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “God, this is just what I need.”
Tanya looked toward Larry with horror in her eyes. “I’ve gotta go.”
She took off. They say misery loves company. They’re dead wrong.
14
Larry pulled up a chair and sat down. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”
“You realize I’m a college student, right?” I said. “I have classes and practice and stuff, not to mention I haven’t decided if I’m accepting your job offer.”
“Classes, yes. Practice?” Larry waggled his hand in the air.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You picked up that I’m an athlete, right?”
“Yeah. Softball,” said Larry. “But you weren’t at practice.”
“You went to my softball practice?”
“Relax. No one saw me. Or rather, they probably did, but they all ignored me. I used my mind obfuscation magic on them.”
“That’s not magic,” I said. “That’s a side effect of resembling a homeless person. No one’s willing to make eye contact with you because they’re afraid you’ll ask them for money or start babbling about government conspiracies.”
“Trust me. It works on security guards and bouncers, ergo, it’s magic. But on a serious note, none of your teammates know I exist, so your reputation as a—” Larry waved his hand in the air. “—whatever it is you’re known as remains intact. You can breathe easy. All I did was peer on from afar in hopes of finding you.”
I hadn’t realized Larry understood he was such an oddball. The fact that he knew actually saddened me a little.
I got over it quickly. “What do you want?”
“To die old and happy, but if you mean what do I want right now, it’s the same as yesterday. I need a ride.”
“Seriously? You spent half the afternoon tracking me down to see if I could shuttle you around town? Haven’t you heard of Uber? There are also these things called busses.”
“I don’t like public transportation,” said Larry. “Too crowded, too many Nosy Nancies, and you’re far too exposed. Not to mention if the engine breaks down, guess who everyone would blame?”
I considered explaining to him that his unique sense of style didn’t give him away as a wizard, and even if it did, that wouldn’t naturally make anyone think the nearby thing that went boom was his fault, but it wasn’t worth the time and effort. “And where do you need to go, exactly?”
“To the police station. I need to talk to Connors. He owes me after the delivery of Melondrious last night and I intend to cash in.”
“Couldn’t you call him on your phone?”
Larry frowned. “I’ve explained to you, it’s a two way portal device. I’d appreciate it if you made an effort to use the proper terminology. And yes, I could talk to him, but some things are better negotiated face to face. Connors is a bit of a slither-outerer if you know what I mean. I want to make sure he delivers.”
I glanced at the entrance to the dining hall. “Where are Dawn and Tank?”
“Dawn still hasn’t returned home,” said Larry. “Before you ask, no I don’t know where she is, but I’m sure she’s fine. She has a habit of taking her pleasures during the day and showing up for work at the last moment. Tank is currently indisposed.”
“What’s wrong with him? Did he eat a bad burrito?”
Larry snickered. “Nothing that unsavory. He needs time to decompress every day. Keeps his mood up.”
“They have drugs for that, you know.”
“They don’t work on him,” said Larry. “Metabolism is too high. Just gives him expensive pee. Besides, it’s not the same kind of decompression you’re thinking of.”
“You still haven’t told me what he does, you know.”
Larry smiled. “Yes, I’m aware of that. You’ll see if you stick around long enough.”
“Is that a sales pitch?”
“Depends. Is it working?”
I sighed. “Look, Larry, I haven’t had the best of days. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and I’m not sure shuttling you around town is the cure for what ails me.”
Larry nodded. “I get it. It’s that problem with your softball team.”
I squinted at the wizard, feeling a bit of a chill. “I’m pretty sure I never mentioned any of that to you.”
“Relax. I’m not sifting through your thoughts. Us wizards have to abide by a strict code of conduct—at least those of us who want to maintain our guild membership. But given that you weren’t at practice and that tall blonde girl who stormed out of here a few minutes ago was, it’s not hard to put the pieces together.”
I stared at him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Believe it or not, I’m not as dumb as I look.”
“Fine,” I said. “So you understand why maybe I don’t want to be your chauffeur right now.”
“Of course,” he said. “So let’s solve the problem.”
“Let’s?”
“Well, not me. You. Go talk to your softball friends or your coach or whatever. Squash the beef. Hash it out. Whatever you kids call it nowadays. I’m happy to wait while you take care of it.”
I snorted derisively. “It’s not that easy, Larry.”
“Why not?”
I don’t know, I thought. Maybe because for the first eighteen years of my life I’ve been far and away the best player on any softball team I joined, and then when I got to college that wasn’t the case any more, and now I’m not even good enough to be in the starting lineup—as a junior no less—and I have no flipping idea how to deal with it.
I didn’t say any of that, though. I simply stared at Larry. He stared back, boring into me with his goofy eyes and genuinely perplexed expression.
I growled as I stood, my tray clatteri
ng as I swept it off the table. “Fine. I’ll drive you to the stupid police station. Come on.”
15
I’d parked in the Brazos garage, so Larry and I hoofed it out of the San Jacincto dorm and headed south along Jester Circle. I wasn’t in a mood to talk, but that didn’t stop Larry from trying to engage me.
“So did you hear about the attack last night?”
“I was there, Larry. But if you mean did I see the news, yeah. A biker ride for kids? Who came up with that junk? Or the marsh gas and the weather balloon? Don’t tell me that’s how memory magic works. People lose all common sense and their brains invent a muddled explanation that barely fits.”
“Pretty much, yeah. You don’t think gas mains really explode as often as people say on the news, or that fifteen car pile-ups happen for no reason? But I didn’t mean our biker incident. I meant the were attack.”
“What attack, where?”
“Not where. Were,” said Larry. “Like person turns into animal sort of were.”
“How would I have heard about that?” I said. “Given how poorly the news covered our high speed biker chase, if a were creature attacked someone, the anchors would probably blame it on some poor, harmless pit bull.”
“You can’t get your news from local TV,” said Larry. “They don’t know a lick about what’s going on in the world. The only accurate news they report is mindless drivel, like about old women feeding pigeons in a park. You need to tune in to a more accurate source.”
“What are you talking about? Like Infowars or something?”
Larry balked. “What? No. Fuck those guys. I’m talking about Mystic Radio, home of DJ Firestorm and the Truth Squad. You just have to know how to tune in.”
We were almost at the Suburban. We hopped in, and while I started the laborious process of backing out of the space, Larry looked around, popped open the glove compartment, and rifled through the documents inside. “You got any tissues?”
“Check the console,” I said. “Why? You feel an allergy attack coming?”
Larry found the travel pack I’d stashed among the receipts, pens, and empty soft drink cups and pulled one out. “No. I’m tuning into the radio station.”
“With a tissue?”
“Yes.” With the Kleenex over his fingers, he reached out and gingerly grasped the knob on the radio. The speakers crackled. Voices and music popped in and out as he fiddled with the station.
“You’re kidding me,” I said. “All it takes to protect electronics from exploding in your presence is to cover your exposed skin? Why don’t you buy a pair of gloves so you can answer the telephone yourself?”
“Because it doesn’t always work.” Static blasted and faded away.
“What? So you’re willing to risk destroying my truck, but you won’t do the same to your landline?”
“It’s more complicated than that. After last night’s spell regenerated your bumper and side mirror, I felt a change in your car. I can still feel it. I think the fairy magic won’t ever totally fade. The point is, because I cast the spell, your vehicle is more magically in tune with me than most other machines. Your radio should be fine. The tissue is a safety precaution.”
“That sounds like total bullshit,” I said.
The radio settled into a clear stream. Instead of a station number, the display blinked a series of dashes. “Total bullshit that works,” said Larry.
I caught the radio hosts mid-sentence as I pulled onto South Congress Avenue. “—downplay it all you want, Turk, but this story smells fishy to me. We’ve been reporting on the surge in overdoses in the para community from folks who’ve used too much of this drug. Phantom White, Crystal Chew, Fae Jay—”
“Bite or Flight.”
“Right. Whatever you want to call it. Rumor has it the thugs involved in that high speed chase last night have been slinging the stuff to the elves, the vamps, even to the pixies. The question is, who was the rival gang in that magically juiced Suburban?”
“A gang? Marty, I think you’ve lost your marbles. No gang in their right mind would be caught dead in a piece of junk like that.”
“Hey,” I said. “The ’burban’s not that bad.”
“Well, if it wasn’t a gang, it was someone with skin in the game. You felt the dissolution spell that went out in the evening? That was powerful stuff.”
Larry slapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, that’s me they’re talking about. Powerful. It was, wasn’t it?”
“I guess time will tell, Marty. In other news, we’re still looking into reports of a possible werewolf attack in central Austin last night, though eyewitness accounts say the creature involved was striped. Three reported wounded, but no dead, thankfully. A reminder to all our listeners, be careful for the next few nights. We’re expecting clear skies again tonight, and the moon’s close to full. More news after the break.”
The radio started playing commercials for products and services I’d never heard of, everything from transmogrification juice to Vampire Smiles, the only all-night dentistry service in the metro Austin area.
I killed the radio. Larry looked at me with surprise. “Why’d you do that?”
“I don’t know. I feel like the less I know the better.”
“On the contrary. You’re deep in the weeds now, girl. The more you know the better. It’ll help you stay alive.”
I pulled the truck into an open street spot next to the downtown police station. Larry led the way inside, and I followed him. Given Larry’s appearance and my obvious status as a college student, I figured someone would stop us, but as we sauntered by the information desk, past the patrol officer’s workstations on the main floor, and over to the elevators, all while uniformed police officers walked by paying us no mind, I started to think there might be something to Larry’s obfuscation magic, even without the additional magnification powers of a dead blues rock legend.
The elevators spit us out on the fifth floor. Larry led me down the hall, through a set of glass double doors etched with the words ‘Special Investigation,’ and stopped in front of a frosted one that bore Frank Connors’ name.
Larry knocked but didn’t wait for an answer before turning the knob and walking in. “Connors! There you are.”
The presumed Frank Connors sat behind a desk, telephone held to his ear. He was a gruff, middle-aged guy with a thick Magnum P.I. mustache and eyebrows you could braid. His hair—dark brown and peppered with gray—had been trimmed to millimeter length precision, but whatever he’d spent on his haircut he’d cut from his wardrobe budget. His suit screamed department store and was threadbare to boot.
He scowled at the sight of Larry. “I gotta go, Gary.” He slammed the phone down in the receiver. “Stuttgart. What do you want?”
“Jeez, Frank. Good to see you, too.” He plopped into one of the chairs in front of the detective’s desk. “How’ve you been?”
“Busy, what with trying to smooth things over with my superiors following vandalism of the state cemetery and a bizarre case of biker violence nobody seems to remember a damn thing about. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Hey,” said Larry a little too quickly. “Let me introduce Lexie. She drove me here.”
“I don’t care.” The cop looked at me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I said.
“Seriously, Stuttgart,” said Connors. “What do you want?”
“You got my delivery last night?” said Larry. “In the form of a well-dressed fairy who surely had a lot of interesting things to tell you about some hard to locate drugs.”
“If you’re looking for a profuse expression of my sincerest thanks, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Stuttgart.”
“Please,” said Larry. “The day you say anything nice about anyone is the day I renounce magic and take up knitting. I want something for my troubles.”
“You mean besides me overlooking your endangerment of the public and all the property damage you caused last night?”
; “I thought you said you couldn’t get anyone to remember what happened.”
“Anyone except that fairy Melondrious,” said Connors. “Once I got him started, the little bastard wouldn’t shut up.”
“Hey, we came through on our end of the bargain,” said Larry. “Not only did we find him, we delivered. With him in custody, the flow of fairy dust should stop. That’s worth something.”
“And what did you have in mind?”
“Nothing much. Just the blueprints to the Harry Ransom Center.”
Connors blinked. “What? Why the hell do you need those?”
“Better you don’t ask.”
Connors scowled. “Jesus, Stuttgart. I’m not helping you break into a god-damned museum.”
“It’s not a break-in,” said Larry. “More of an unscheduled visit. The library doesn’t even want the item we’re after. They tried to give it back to the owner a decade ago and were rebuffed.”
“Shut up,” said Connors. “I don’t want to know. Not to mention the fact that I don’t have access to any blueprints.”
“You’re a high ranking detective. Use your influence!”
“I’m not doing it, and that’s final. Sorry, Stuttgart. I appreciate you helping me out last night—despite the reckless way in which you went about it. But I won’t enable you.”
Larry threw his hands in the air. “But we need to get in! Not to mention I have it on good authority that the basement of the HRC is a complex maze. How are we supposed to navigate our way through it without a set of architectural plans?”
“I don’t care, Stuttgart,” said Connors. “Out. Now. I have work to do.”
Larry scowled. He flung himself out the door and stormed toward the elevators, where he stood until I joined him. “Hit the call button. I didn’t bring my poking stick.”
I punched the down button. “So, let me get this straight. To get through the Harry Ransom Center, you need a navigator, right?”
