“Why would they do this to me? Astrid is the one who has the scary abilities.”
“We need to get them home,” said Hazel, who picked up the box with the kittens. “You can talk about this all back at the house. Pangur Ban is waiting.”
Seamus pulled out a pocket watch on a chain. “She’s right, we don’t have long. I’ll see to it.” He left the trailer.
“Now,” said Neil. “You are wondering why you should listen to a bunch of strangers who appear on your doorstep. We don’t have long, so I’ll be brief. You and Astrid are in danger. The four of us and some of our allies are no friends of the Seelie. The Seelie are trying to use Astrid because of her abilities, harm you for other reasons, and some of their brethren, the Unseelie, have even more nefarious plans. We want to stop them, and we need you. Your cousin and everyone else in this world depend on it.”
“Where is this machine?”
“Just outside.”
“Well, let’s see it then.”
Neil pulled up his sleeve and checked his watch. “It has already done its work. We’re here. Check your wallet.”
How had he known about the wallet? He hadn’t mentioned it to Astrid or anyone else.
At Elliot’s concerned look, Neil said, “You told me about it. Go on.”
Elliot went to the bedroom and grabbed his wallet from the built-in night table beside the bed. The blanket crumpled at the foot of the bed was now back to red, and his driver’s license was back to normal.
He turned to find Neil standing in the doorway.
“You people shouldn’t be here,” said Elliot.
“You told us to come get you, to use the machine,” said Neil. “You gave us this exact time and date.”
“Yeah, so you said.”
“And we came, just as you will ask us to do. We work together. You trained me, and I’ll train you.”
“Train me? For what?”
“The Time Corps.”
The words brought another memory, one of fear mixed with exhilaration, of danger, and fun. And with some sadness, there was also a sense of meaning and purpose. Was this was why he couldn’t choose a major or figure out what career he wanted? Why he was without direction or purpose? He had been waiting, unconsciously, for something to come along.
“What’s the Time Corps?” he asked.
Neil smiled. “Back at the house, I’ll tell you everything.”
And Elliot knew that he would. Seamus and Neil loaded a huge wooden trunk into the back of a dented SUV. So far, Elliot was not impressed. The five of them, plus the kittens and the monkey all squeezed into the vehicle. Neil drove, Seamus rode shotgun and Elliot sat in the back between Felicia and Hazel. It was a tight fit, but things could be much worse than being crammed between two nice-looking women. He caught Hazel looking at him twice as they drove.
“What is it?”
“You just look so young.” She smiled. “And I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“So we’re friends or something. In the future.”
“Well, your future, my past. Our present.” She stopped abruptly as if listening to something. The monkey’s face was near her ear. She leaned toward Elliot so no one would hear her over the noise of the car and whispered in his ear. “You and Neil were, are and will be partners. You’ve worked together for years. Listen to him. He’s going to give you training to help you. You can trust him. And don’t be angry with the Professor. He can’t help how he is.”
They got off the freeway and drove down suburban side streets until they were in an older neighborhood full of restored Craftsman-style houses from the early twentieth century. The car turned down a street lined with old pepper trees, their foliage hanging down in thick curtains. They pulled into a long cement driveway beside a yellow and white two-storied house. It had no garage, but the driveway stretched all the way to the back of the house, ending at a large shed. The house itself was neatly kept and had a broad front porch with thick rectangular columns on each end, both with lower halves covered in gray stones. A matching stone chimney rose up on one side of the house, and though Elliot had seen a kitchen door at the back of the house, Felicia and Hazel led him around to the front steps which were wide and painted white. Seamus and Neil got out the big trunk and took it around the back of the house.
Felicia let them inside through a wooden front door topped with stained glass. The house had dark wooden floors and matching wooden beams framed the doorways. In the living room sat an ordinary sofa, chairs, a large television, a computer and bookshelves crammed with books both old and new. There were a few items other than books on the shelves, including a cat-shaped golden sarcophagus, a stack of thick wooden sticks tied together with a leather thong and a squat stone head that looked like it was from ancient Mexico.
He already knew the rest of the house. It was familiar, though of course, he had never been there before. He remembered bits and pieces from dreams. The kitchen was at the front corner of the house, the dining room to one side. He knew where each of the bedrooms upstairs would be, and that the place had a decently sized attic. Strange things happened in the attic, he knew.
He lingered near a built-in bookcase, looking over stacks of medical textbooks, romance novels, physics books and some yellowed science fiction paperbacks, all crammed together.
“She’s upstairs,” said Hazel. “You should come. It’ll be easier, coming from you.”
He followed her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. On the windowsill sat Cinderella, looking out over the backyard. The window was open, and the cat moved aside as a giant black bird flew in and landed on top of an antique full-length standing mirror. It was a raven, and it made little rattling noise in its throat as it looked Elliot up and down.
“I’m sorry,” said Hazel, putting down the box. Cinderella leapt down and came to examine her kittens. “The little one died. They did the best they could.”
“I’m sure they did,” said the cat. Her voice was low and smokey, and it was full of sorrow. “My children,” she murmured and jumped into the box. The kittens mewed and squirmed as she licked them.
Now he knew this had to be a dream. The cat had spoken.
“This is Pangur Ban,” said Hazel. “And the raven is Huginn.”
“Nice to see you again, Elliot,” said the raven.
“This is his first time here,” said Hazel. “Ever.”
“Oh, I see. Well, pleasant to meet you for the first time then.”
“We’ve met before, at Astrid’s house, but we’ve never been properly introduced. I am pleased to meet you,” said Pangur Ban.
“I’m sorry about your baby,” said Elliot. “We tried. We really did.”
“I knew the risks,” said the cat. “And I’ve known Astrid since she was a little girl. She promised to care for them, and I know she tried.”
She looked up at Elliot then, and the ferocity of her look was frightening.
“Were you there?” she asked. “When my son died?”
“Um, yeah. She tried to save him. She tried to take him to the vet. But he died so quickly. I saw his spirit. It went into a Door she made. To the place of the dead, I think.”
The cat lowered her head and closed her eyes. She licked Diego’s ear absently. Elliot thought he heard the cat whisper something to the baby.
Huginn flapped down and hopped to the edge of the box.
“Do they understand?” he asked.
“They know their brother is gone,” said Pangur Ban. “They feel sorrow, though they can’t speak yet.”
“Your son, he talked when he died,” said Elliot. “He could speak a little. I thought … I don’t know what I thought. But he could talk a little.”
The kittens nursed, and Pangur Ban stared at the side of the box.
“This is awful,”
said Huginn. “The death of the young is a terrible thing.”
“You have seen worse,” said Pangur Ban. “You have seen death before. You were Guntram.”
“Was I? A war raven?”
“We should go,” said Hazel. “Huginn will look after her.”
As they left, Elliot thought he heard Pangur Ban singing a lullaby to her babies.
“You did well,” said Hazel as she poured them each a glass of iced tea in the kitchen. “Not everyone takes talking animals in stride.”
“It seemed rude to make a big deal of it in front of a grieving mother.”
“Well put,” said the monkey on Hazel’s shoulder.
Chapter 33
“What did you say?” Astrid asked. She stepped back from the white fox at her feet. The little animal had spoken, and was now looking at her for a response.
“I said, we should get out of the mirror house,” said the fox. It had the voice of a woman, a familiar voice. “They might not feel my presence, but they’ll feel yours and be here soon. We need to make this quick.”
“Okay, this is too much. I’m going home.” Astrid pulled up her purse strap and headed out of the mirror house. “I need to lie down.”
“Astrid, wait!” said the fox. “It’s me, Yukiko.”
The fox trotted along beside her as she climbed down the metal stairs at the back of the mirror house and headed around toward the front. Astrid stopped dead when she saw the employee taking tickets. He wore no uniform, but some sort of tunic made of tight-woven ferns. And he had scales on his arms and legs, like a fish. His hands were webbed, as were his bare feet, although his face was that of an ordinary man.
“Hang on a minute,” said the fox. The animal lifted her nose to the wind. “Come this way, or they’ll find you.”
Then Astrid noticed the sky. The light in this place was completely different than normal, more golden. The sky was a pale apricot, but it was not just along the horizon as it was at sunrise or sunset. The entire sky was pale orange. The ocean was greener than she had ever seen it, and parts of it were so dark they looked black.
“This is Seelie,” explained the fox. “Please come along now. I’ll explain everything as we go. I promise.”
The little fox looked earnest and concerned, her head cocked to one side. Since she was headed toward the exit anyway, Astrid allowed the fox to follow her down the boardwalk. No one looked twice at the fox or at her, but most of the visitors looked like regular people, albeit dressed in either too little or too much clothing. One man wore nothing but tiny white fur shorts, another man was wrapped from head to foot in billowing crimson and orange silks with only a tiny open slit from which peered two reptilian eyes.
As they walked, the fox explained that Astrid had made a Door into the Seelie world, and that they had fallen through. She was Yukiko, the same person Astrid had known. She also said that they had to stick together.
They passed a pretzel stand, very much like her own, but this one sold only straight stick-like pretzels, finger-sized, with honey dipping sauce. None came with salt. The only beverages available were spring water and small beer, and the old man behind the cart had tiny fluffy koala ears poking out from under his bowler hat.
The rides here were similar to the ones at her own boardwalk, but there were some differences. The Sea Swings were called Dragon Swings, and the carved seats had some kind of long, pointed faces at the ends of the armrests. As the chairs swung outward, they seemed to lift, so the cables, or rather, silver chains, went slack, as if the seats were flying outward on their own. Only children rode, and they screeched in delight as the chairs went up and down, pulling at the ends of their chains.
And some things were the same. The Break-a-Plate game still had rows of white plates and baskets of balls to be thrown at them. Two identical boys played ring toss, and it was only when she got closer that she saw they had pink fleshy tails, or rather, a single tail that was part of both of their bodies but was fused together at the tip.
Yukiko told her how she had lost something, a spirit ball, and how it was here, in this world. They would find it and then Astrid would open a Door and take them back to their own world. The fox seemed apologetic about it, and insisted that they would be safe.
“Then why are you telling me to hurry?”
“These people, the Seelie, are mostly harmless. Humans visit them now and again, usually by accident, but it’s not a common occurrence. They can tell a human from their own kind very quickly.”
“Then why aren’t they coming after me now? We’ve been here a while.”
The fox pondered this. “I’m not sure.” She glanced around, as if some of the Seelie might turn and grab the both of them, but the people around them continued walking, talking, eating, just as humans did at their park. “Let’s take advantage of it. I think the stairway to the pier is this way. You can wait on the beach. I think she may be easier to bargain with on this side. Perhaps, if I learn about her binding, I can help her break it and she’ll give the ball to me.”
The fox was talking to herself and Astrid had no idea with whom she was going to bargain. But this place was Seelie. That was the name of the people, and of their world. And a strange and beautiful world it was. The colors here were more vivid, the scents more delicious and the temperature of the air was perfect for a nice stroll on the boardwalk.
“Why do the Seelie have a park like ours?” she asked.
“Their park was first, and then your people built a similar one on your side. The Seelie, most otherfolk, are attracted to borderlands, places in-between. This place is ideal, a place between sea and land, amusement and fear, reality and the imagined. It’s also right on the San Andreas Fault. They like instabilities like that, both literal and metaphorical. So this place was where the Seelie park grew.”
“What’s it called?”
“Luna Park, like yours.”
“So the humans named it after the Seelie park?”
“It happens more often than you’d think,” said Yukiko.
“What about Disneyland?”
“There was no person by that name in Seelie, so it has a different name here. But it exists.”
Astrid paused at the glass and wood building enclosing the carousel. In her world, the building’s beams were metal, but here, they were wood painted a gaudy aqua blue with gold-painted seashells fastened on here and there. Inside, the ride had no horses, at least nothing that resembled a horse as she knew it, though there were horse-like creatures, some feathered or scaled. A tiger with iridescent green and blue stripes stood mid-stride, a giraffe with a flame-colored fish’s tail smiled a secretive smile while a panda with an Asian man’s face laughed. There was a pair of pale jellyfish with saddles, a beetle covered in silver fur and a seashell chariot pulled by two fat winged cherubs with four arms each.
The riders were mostly human in appearance, though a few had body parts that looked like animals. A woman and her son stood in line, both with the lower body of a squirrel.
“Is the Piper Seelie?” Astrid asked.
“The Piper? No, of course not.”
“Well, he’s half goat and he has horns.”
The fox made a little snorting sound. “Your own goats have goat parts and horns, but they’re not Seelie. Any more than you are Seelie because you look human.”
“But humans don’t open Doors to other places.”
“That’s not true. But you might not be—” Yukiko stopped in her tracks. “Turn around!” she hissed. “We have to go back. That Iolanthe woman is here.”
“The ram-headed woman? I don’t see her.”
“I can smell her. Let’s go.”
Yukiko turned and trotted back the way they had come, toward the mirror house and the arcade.
“How did you know Iolanthe had a ram’s head?” asked
Yukiko. She sounded wary.
“I saw her on the beach, returning that slaugh in the box to the Piper.”
“But she always looked human in your world.”
“I saw her differently. And you too, when you were dancing. I saw the cherry blossoms and the jacaranda blossoms falling at the same time.”
“Did you see that I was a fox?”
“No.”
Yukiko looked satisfied. “You seeing things like that is most likely a side effect of you being a Door. Maybe Doors come with that ability. They are rare, so I don’t know. Some other beings can do it as well.”
They slipped into the arcade and stopped in the back corner. The games did not run on electricity, but rather had brass wind-up cranks. Yukiko mentioned that the Seelie were modernizing, but to Astrid, everything looked like something out of a clockwork exhibit in a museum. One game involved shooting mouse skulls into tiny baskets using a little mechanical catapult. Another played strange music while tiny dolls attached to a post by multi-colored ribbons spun in a dizzy dance. The goal was to guide the dancers around the post in such a way that the ribbons wrapped around the post in a braided design.
“She’s coming this way,” said Yukiko. “She’s near the front door.”
Yukiko led the way out the other exit, toward the stage where, in the human world, the Chumash Legends show played. Here, the play depicted the Civil War and various Seelie crowded the hay bales, which here were soft and a bright, verdant green. Yukiko jumped up on a hay bale and whispered that they should wait there awhile. The magic they used during the play would help conceal the two of them.
The play was a little like Red Fawn’s show, with wood, plaster and paper-mache props. Humans in the play fought and died, while the Seelie characters, who appeared to be in some kind of humorous love triangle, caused various romantic entanglements between a prostitute and two men, one a general and the other a private. The general was in love with the private, while the private loved the prostitute who was sleeping with the general, who was married to a woman somewhere in what the Seelie players called Sud Caroline. Astrid presumed that it meant South Carolina. The soldiers wore gray, so they must have been part of the Confederacy, but the Seelie version of American history was very different from the one she had learned in school. In this version, the war was a grand game, with sides to manipulate, strong emotions to feed from and many lost and suffering souls. The purpose of the war was completely lost on them and soldiers switched sides now and then.
The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series) Page 76
