This Broken Wondrous World

by Jon Skovron

  “Did you notice that part where Mozart totally ignored Henri’s question about joining Moreau’s army?” I asked.

  “Mmmffph,” said Claire, then spat into the sink. “And did you notice how he immediately asked about Ruthven after that?”

  “You think Ruthven would actually consider aligning with Moreau?”

  She picked up a hairbrush and started to pull it through her straight black hair. “I think Ruthven would consider anything that might benefit his coven.”

  “But full-on war with the humans?”

  “You’re the one who’s always on about how we shouldn’t have to hide what we are. That we should have rights, too.”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “How else do you think something like that could happen?

  “I was kind of envisioning more of a Martin Luther King Jr. solution. You know, peaceful demonstrations, rallies, that kind of stuff.”

  “Just picture that for a moment. Dragons, ogres, and goblins marching in protest on the White House. Do you honestly think the cops wouldn’t just immediately start shooting? There is a huge difference between a black human who wants to be treated like other humans, and a creature whose very nature requires that she kill humans to survive. We’re talking Ruthven, the Siren, and a bunch of others. Or would your rally only be for ‘safe’ monsters?”

  “Of course not.”

  She turned to me, her dark eyes serious. “You said to me once that you hoped someday creatures like Medusa could have a place in the world again. How do you think that could happen without some sort of major upheaval? Humans would never willingly let a creature like her exist.”

  “So you’re saying that you’d join Moreau?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think I could join any group that had Robert and Stephen in it. I know that’s a stupid way to look at it.”

  “It’s not stupid,” I said. “All this talk about ideals and causes and stuff is so big and theoretical. Maybe for others that works. But for me, in the end, it feels like the only thing that really makes any sense—that truly matters—is people.”

  Claire sat down next me on the bed, one leg drawn up as she leaned against the headboard. “I wonder what your parents would say about it.”

  “I wonder if they already knew about Moreau,” I said. “I bet they all did.”

  “Do you think it’s weird we can’t get ahold of anyone there?” she asked.

  “Really weird. I built a lot of that infrastructure myself. It’s rock solid. I tried to tunnel into the primary server a little bit ago, but got nothing. Like the network wasn’t even online.”

  “Could Vi figure out what’s going on?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Uh, I think she’s probably not in the mood right now.”

  “This is serious, though, Boy.”

  “I’ll ask, but . . .”

  I reached over to the bedside table and opened the phone. On it was her anime face, but it was bright red. There was a large circular pulse over her temple, and wavy lines of smoke rose up from her head.

  “Hey, Vi—”

  “Did you hear him?” Her fists shook up and down so fast they were a blur.

  “Yeah, I heard him.”

  “He’s going to stay here? In Lima? With her?!”

  “Look, Vi. I was surprised, too. I thought Henri was with us.”

  “Right?” Her eyes bugged out wide. “Bros before hos, right?”

  “I’m not sure that really applies in this—”

  “He’s thrown us over for that Peruvian bitch!”

  “Now settle down there, sister,” said Claire. “La Perricholi’s made it pretty clear she’s not interested. This is all on Henri.”

  “Why her and not me? I’m interested! What does she have that I don’t?”

  Claire and I looked at each other.

  “What?” said Vi. “Is it because I’m not pretty enough? I tried to make myself pretty for him.”

  “You made yourself look exactly the way he wanted you to look,” I said.

  “So what is it, then? Am I not nice enough?”

  “No, you’ve been plenty nice,” said Claire. “If you ask me, a bit too nice.”

  “So I should be tough and mean? Like La Perricholi? Then would Henri be interested in me? I don’t know if I can be tough and mean, but I could try.” She tried to make her face look hard, but she would probably need an entire avatar redesign before that would look at all credible.

  “I don’t think that’s something you can fake,” I said. “And, anyway, you shouldn’t have to. You’re awesome the way you are.”

  “If I’m so awesome, why isn’t he interested in me?”

  “Well, it’s just . . . man, how can I put this? Okay. People in analog . . . they really like having physical bodies. They express affection by touching each other’s physical bodies. And I think for a lot of people, if they can’t do that, their affection can only go so far.”

  “Oh.” Vi was suddenly very still, her purple eyes wide. “Is that it?”

  “But we love you,” said Claire. “You don’t need a physical body for us.”

  Vi nodded, but her expression remained frozen. Distant.

  “I’m so sorry, Vi,” I said. “This is what upset your alpha phase so much. This limitation. It’s why I promised you right from the start that we will find a nondestructive way for you to enter analog space. And I swear we are still going to do that.”

  “When?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’ve got to deal with Moreau first,” said Claire.

  “I understand,” said Vi. “The many before the one.”

  “Vi, it’s not—”

  “I’m going to power down for a little while, okay?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  The screen went black and I placed the phone on the bedside table. Then I slowly lay back on the bed. Claire lay down next to me, her head on my chest.

  “That conversation had to happen eventually,” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “And you had to be the one to say it.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re doing a good job with her this time.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “That’s all you can do.”

  “I guess.”

  She reached up and put her arms around me. “Come here, you big, oversensitive lug.”

  “Sorry,” I said, letting her pull me down to her.

  She pressed her lips against mine, then opened them so her breath escaped into my mouth.

  “I wouldn’t change you for the world,” she whispered.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Maria drove Mozart, Claire, and me to the airport. Henri rode along with us, and when we got to the departure drop-off, he stepped out of the car with me.

  “Hey, cousin,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “I feel bad leaving you.”

  “It’s okay.” It wasn’t, really. Vi was still upset. And I realized that I was upset, too. It would have been one thing if he wanted safety, to be back with his family. But I was pretty sure Lima wouldn’t be any safer than New York. It was probably even more dangerous. So as far as I could tell, there was only one reason he wanted to stay in Lima.

  “You know why I’m staying, right?” he asked.

  “Uh, because of La Perricholi?”

  “She is the one, Boy. Mon amour. I just know she is.”

  I was pretty sure she disagreed, but I didn’t say anything.

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “I have always had a difficult time relating to regular humans. Even before I knew monsters were real. Being a Frankenstein is not easy, you know? But I am also not a monster and I don�
�t really feel like I fit in with you guys, either. I am somewhere in between. And so is she. I finally found someone who is in the same spot as me. What you have with Claire and Sophie is so perfect. I just want that for myself. You understand, right?”

  There was a part of me that wanted to smack him. To ask him if he cared about anything other than himself, if he was even aware that we were potentially on the verge of a monster-human war. But then I thought, What does one have to do with the other? He looked so desperate to be forgiven, to be told it was okay. And wasn’t it? When things start to look dark and serious, isn’t love more important than ever? The more meanness I saw in the world, the kinder I wanted to be to make up for it. Maybe that made me a dumb-ass, but it felt right.

  So I just said, “Of course I understand,” and gave him a hug.

  He looked so relieved, I almost felt bad for him.

  “Thanks, cousin,” he said.

  “Good-bye, Henri. I’ll see you soon.”

  Then I went to the back of the van to help Claire with the luggage.

  “I would’ve punched him,” she said.

  “I know. So I’m a sap. Where’s Mozart?”

  “Saying good-bye to his girl,” said Claire.

  I peered around the corner and saw Maria and Mozart kissing.

  “Brilliant, isn’t it?” said Claire. Then, “Oi! Wolfie! Give her tongue back! We’ve got a plane to catch, yeah?”

  “That’s what I love about you,” I said. “So sentimental.”

  She winked at me. “If you and I started snogging every time we felt like it, we’d never get anything done.”

  “What is this ‘snogging’ you speak of? Some sort of foreign ritual?” I dropped the bag I was holding and pulled her in close so that her stomach and hips pressed against mine. “You may have to show me. Extensively.”

  “Bloody Casanovas, the lot of you,” she said, pulling my hands from her waist and putting a bag in each one. “Thank god one of us has a practical mind.”

  15

  Closing Night

  WHEN WE ARRIVED at New York’s JFK airport, Mozart insisted we take a cab. The subway would have been a lot cheaper, but he wanted to get to The Show as quickly as possible. Claire and I exchanged looks, but neither of us said anything. I’d never seen him this anxious before, or this willing to spend money.

  An hour later we were shooting across 42nd Street toward Times Square. It was around two a.m., so traffic was minimal. Claire and I sat in the back, while Mozart sat up front and hassled the cab driver every time he disagreed with the route. Then he had the driver drop us off a few blocks from the theater.

  “We are going to the theater, right?” Claire asked as the cab drove off.

  “Yeah.” Mozart’s gray eyes were narrowed almost to slits now, and they glinted in the streetlights. “My gut tells me something bad is waiting for us. I want to be able to see it before we’re on top of it.”

  “What do you mean, something bad?” I asked. “What could possibly be bad at The Show? I mean, other than its normal badness.”

  Mozart looked at me for a second like he was going to say something, but then he just shook his head and started walking toward the theater. Claire and I followed behind, lugging our suitcases.

  We were a block away when he held up his hand and we jerked to a stop.

  “What is with him?” Claire hissed to me under her breath.

  “Shut it,” growled Mozart. He started moving forward again, but slowly, like he was stalking prey. “Look.”

  The front of the theater was dark, but that was normal this late at night. It took me a minute or two to see what Mozart’s wolf eyes had already picked up. The Show marquee was gone from the entrance. Those ridiculous, so-old-they-looked-retro posters had been torn down, the glass casing smashed. And even worse, there was yellow CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS tape stretched across the doors.

  “What—” I started to say, but Mozart’s head snapped around and he glared at me so hard that the rest of the sentence stuck in my throat.

  He pointed to the alley along the side of the theater and mouthed stage door. We both nodded and followed him slowly around the side, through the unlit alley to the plain metal door halfway down. Mozart pulled out a key and unlocked the door. The three of us slipped inside the dark theater and closed the door behind us.

  It was pitch black inside, but I knew this room well. It was where my dad usually sat after The Show to deal with humans who wanted to come in to meet cast members.

  “It’s okay to talk here. I’m not getting any fresh scents.”

  “What you do mean, no fresh scent?” I asked. “For how long?”

  “Days.”

  “How can there not have been anyone here for days? It’s the stage door entrance on a Saturday.”

  “No idea yet. Anybody got a light?”

  “Can’t Vi light up a bit?” asked Claire.

  “Oh, yeah, of course.” I pulled out the phone. “Vi?”

  “What’s going on?” Vi asked, her anime face pinched into a frown.

  “Something is seriously wrong,” I said. “Can you give us a little light?”

  “Sure.”

  The phone display flared up bright white.

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “Great. It’s—” I stopped and stared at the dark blotches on the wall.

  “Blood,” said Mozart.

  “No,” I said. “No way. It can’t be—”

  “Boy!” Mozart’s voice cracked like a slap across the face. “I need you to stay calm. Don’t make any assumptions, don’t jump to conclusions. We will figure this out. I promise you. But we can only do that if we keep our heads.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m okay.”

  “Good,” said Mozart. “Now, Vi, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” said Vi.

  “Is there any way for you to connect to the security system?”

  “I could, but it’s all been powered down. In fact, it seems like the entire building is dark.”

  Mozart walked over to the wall switch and toggled it up and down. “Power’s been completely cut from the building. Any ideas how we can get a look at the security camera footage?”

  “We could pull the drive from the server where the video footage is stored,” I said. “Assuming it hasn’t been corrupted, I could install it in another machine somewhere else that has power.”

  “You know where the server is?” Mozart asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “It’s in the storage closet behind the box office. Mom and I were the ones who installed it. Mom . . .” Then I started to think about where Mom might be. What might have happened to her—

  “Hey,” said Mozart. “Stay with us. You hear me? I need you right now, Boy.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m going to nose around, see what other info I can pick up. You and Claire get that drive and meet me back here. Ten minutes.”

  “Got it.”

  Mozart shifted into a wolf and slipped quietly out of the room, leaving his clothes behind in a pile.

  “Come on,” said Claire. “Let’s go.”

  We walked slowly through the hallways, using Vi as a little flashlight. I tried to take in all the details without letting them really hit me. I tried to imagine I was disconnected as I saw broken bits of furniture, spots of blood, and the small holes in the walls that suggested gunfire.

  It was only a few minutes later when we reached the lobby, but it felt like hours. And the lobby was even more of a mess than the hallways. It looked like small explosions had taken chunks out of the floor. The box office walls had been smashed in, and there were chunks of glass everywhere. The storage closet behind the box office was completely blocked by debris.

  “I’ll lift it up,” I said. “You see if you can crawl under and
pull the server box.”

  Claire nodded.

  I crouched down with my back against the pile, shoved my hands under, and slowly stood up. Claire dropped to the ground and looked under.

  “There’s a big metal thing in the way,” she said.

  “The server rack,” I said.

  “It looks like it tipped over.”

  “Can you see the server? Is it damaged?”

  “Doesn’t look like it, but I can’t get at it. The opening is too narrow for me.” She looked up at me. “Sophie could reach it.”

  “Your call,” I said. “But either way, make it quick. I can’t hold this stuff up forever.”

  “I think you could use some Sophie time, anyway,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  But then her body started to shift so I just concentrated on holding up the pile.

  A minute later Sophie was cinching up her pants and tightening the laces on her shoes.

  “It’s like wearing boxes on my feet.”

  “Hey, Soph,” I grunted. “Any time now. Would be great.”

  “Right, sorry.” She ducked down and slipped under the debris. “This box thingie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do I need the cables and such?”

  “No.”

  “Good, because it’s a rats’ nest back here.”

  I heard the sound of metal scraping on metal. A moment later, Sophie popped out holding the server in her hands.

  “You can let it go,” she said.

  I eased the pile back down, then rubbed my aching fingers for a moment. “All right, let’s see if the drive is intact.” I took the server from her. I didn’t have a screwdriver so I just cracked open the casing.

  “Shit,” I said.

  “What?” said Sophie.

  “The drive. It’s gone.”

  “You mean destroyed?”

  “No, I mean gone. Vanished.” I stared down at the empty server casing. “Along with every fucking member of the company.”