by Paul Neuhaus
Keri was still nervous. “What’re we doing? Are we gonna walk to the convention? Do you think they’ll let us in, or do you think the place is sealed-off? What about tickets? We don’t have tickets.”
“Settle down,” I said. “Cool your jets. Right now, we’re gonna do something we should’ve done back at the house, but, duh, I didn’t think of it until just now.”
“What? What’re we gonna do?”
I indicated the girl’s leather purse. “You must have a phone, right?”
“Yeah, I have a phone, but I see where you’re headed,” the teenager replied. “My dad doesn’t have a phone. He doesn’t believe in them. Which is almost as weird as the whole brony thing. Anyway, don’t you think, if he had a phone, I would’ve called him and found out where he was before I even came to see you?”
She had me there. “Okay, okay. Dumb question. I was gonna see if you could call your dad and he could sneak us in the back. We’re gonna have to improvise.” We got out of the car and I grabbed my backpack out of the trunk. For a moment, I stared longingly at my “Peekaboo” brass knuckles, but decided they were a little showy for the occasion. With Hope attached to my back, Keri and I walked downhill toward the Convention Center. “If any weird shit goes down, I want you to stay behind me, alright? I’ve got tons of experience dealing with this kind of thing.”
“Okay, but don’t baby me,” Keri replied. “Remember: I’m mean, and I got a low center of gravity.”
“I remember.” We picked up our pace as it started to rain.
Keri and I snuck around the back of the Santa Monica Convention Center just as a maintenance guy popped open one of the doors in the back. He looked both ways, making sure he didn’t see any cops, then he dashed across the blacktop behind the building. Who knows what his deal was, but his exit granted us the sneaky entrance we needed.
We were in a hallway with the most hideous carpeting I’d ever seen. The air smelled of hot dog water and stale popcorn. I guessed we were in the same wing as the food court. Before we headed toward the door on the other end of the hall, we heard the sharp crack and muffled voice of a police radio. We froze and waited for the sound to pass. It did. We dashed toward the door and went through it, emerging into, sure enough, the food court. The brony-packed food court. The place was jammed with people dressed like cartoon horses. Some of them had tiny wings. Others had unicorn horns. Almost all of them were males over the age of twenty-five. All their heads turned toward us when we entered. Keri and I were suddenly uncomfortable—especially since, to a man, the bronies looked shell-shocked and afraid. “As you were,” I said, and most of the guys went back to whatever they were doing when we came in.
“God, look at this place,” Keri said. “It’s like another planet.”
“Forget about that for right now. Something’s going on. These guys look like they’ve seen a ghost.”
“I know, but my God. Can you believe this? A bunch of grown men dressed like tween girls at a sleepover. It’s fucking bizarre.”
“Keep your voice down. The last thing we need is to get rushed by a bunch of ticked-off bronies. Scan the crowd. Look for Chad and your dad.”
The teen nodded and stood on tip-toe, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. I whispered to Hope over my shoulder. “Is the Kraken here?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s here, but he’s just an ambient presence. As soon as he shows himself, I’ll be able to get a tight lock.”
I nodded and approached the table nearest where I was standing. At it sat the Laurel and Hardy of “My Little Pony” fans. One thin as a rail, the other shaped like a blueberry. Neither one of them had come in full cosplay mode. They were wearing pony-themed t-shirts, but that I could overlook. “Excuse me,” I said. “What’s going on? Why’re you all corralled in here?”
Hardy was the one who replied (Laurel looked like he was more than a little girl-shy). “You didn’t see it? You weren’t in the atrium when it happened?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t in the atrium. What was it? What happened?”
Hardy ran his palm down his face and sighed a PTSD-in-the-making sigh. His eyes were haunted. “I was out there. Me and Dill. This is Dill.” Dill, AKA Laurel, nodded at me. “We saw Derek Graywillow headed toward us. He’s the webmaster of brony hearts beat true dot com. We recognized him; we were excited. But then he started screaming. Blood started pouring out of his eyes. Out of his mouth. He yelled, ‘Get it out of me! Get it out of me!’ and then he leapt over the railing. We’re on the fourth floor. He fell four stories. Me and Dill froze in place. We didn’t know what to do. And then this big black cloud rose up from where Derek took his leap, and I swear it had a face. It had a face and it laughed at us. It laughed at everyone in the atrium.”
Fuck. Hardy had just given the perfect layman’s description of an Evil. The Kraken was definitely here with us in the Convention Center. And he wanted to play. “What happened next?” I said. “Where’s the cloud with the face now?”
Hardy looked at Laurel, and Laurel, said. “It went into an air duct. Then all hell broke loose. People started running here and there. A few minutes later, the cops and the ambulances showed up. The cops rounded everybody up and put is in here; told us to sit tight.” Then he shook his head and his voice dropped in volume. “God above. I never seen anything like it.”
Right then, I heard my name. “Dora! Dora!” It was Keri and she was waving me over. Before I turned away, I squeezed Laurel’s arm and told him and his friend everything would be okay. As I walked away, Laurel said, “Hey! How come you have a jug on your back?”
“That,” I said. “Is a really long story.”
Keri had done well. She was standing next to a man I immediately identified as Chad Kroeger (as in our Chad Kroeger, not the Nickelback Chad Kroeger). Unfortunately for us, Chad was decked out for the occasion. He was wearing a one-piece unicorn outfit with a rainbow mane and tail. I say “unfortunately” not just for the obvious reason, but also because the get-up was skin-tight. Before the two of us had even exchanged a greeting, I knew that Chad was uncircumcised—which is, you know, super-gross. “Hey, Dora,” Keri said. “This is my dad’s buddy Chad. Chad, this is Dora.”
Kroeger held out his hand and I shook it. “I feel like I know you already. I’ve heard tons about you. We’re talking years of anecdotes.”
That took me aback. I almost never talked about Elijah—mostly because I didn’t know anybody that’d listen. “Not all bad, I hope.”
Chad waved a hand at me. “Are you kidding. I started calling you ‘Saint Dora’. You’d think El never had a girlfriend before you.”
“Technically, I don’t think he did,” I said.
“Come on. El’s over in the coffee bar on the other side,” the full-grown man in the unicorn suit said to me. He raised his eyebrow in reference to my prior comment. “No one before you, eh? Can you verify that?”
“You mean do I have my own fact-checking department? No, I’m just telling you what he told me. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m his friend. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t use rumor and innuendo to humiliate and degrade him?”
“Point taken.”
By then, Kroeger was leading us from where we were, across the atrium, to a coffee bar on the other side. His outfit did some impressive lifting and separating of his buttocks. Thank the gods his swishy tail distracted Keri and I from the spectacle. We passed three cops walking by, talking amongst themselves. We were moving into the atrium, a center court area looking down on multiple floors. The ceiling above was glass. Hanging from crossbeams were long banners depicting the characters from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Fluorescent colors. Real retina burners. Bronies—male and female—stood in little clusters chatting nervously. I noticed one of the attendees had a Corgi on a leash. The Corgi was cosplaying, too. Little horse ears, a mane, the whole nine yards.
“Have you heard any chatter from the police?” I said. “Do they have any idea what’s going on?�
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“I’ve heard the term ‘CDC’ a few times. Center for Disease Control. I think they think Derek had plague or something. What I saw happen had nothing to do with plague.”
“So, so far, our only victim is this Derek?”
“Oh, no. This smoke thingy—whatever it is—has two notches in his belt. About ten minutes before Derek there was the concessions guy. I heard he was running the weenie cart. I wasn’t there. Supposedly, he freaked out all the sudden. Screaming and yelling. Throwing weenies at everybody. Then he just keeled over dead.”
“Not even the weenie man is safe,” Keri said.
I scowled at the teenager. “You might wanna take this a little more seriously,” I said. “This thing we’re dealing with... It gets inside of people and then, depending on what kind of mood it’s in, it kills them. Not a pleasant situation, I promise you.”
“I use gallows humor as a defense mechanism,” she replied.
“Oh!” Chad said. “I do that too! For weeks after my mom died, I joked about getting brain cancer thinking, if I did that, I wouldn’t get brain cancer.”
“Totally.”
“Could we stay focused please?”
By that time. We’d reached the other side of the atrium. A hipster coffee bar that’d clearly only been built within the last couple of years. I’ve never seen so many guys with waxed mustaches drinking small batch artisanal bean juice. As I scanned the crowd, I was on the edge of freaking out. I was on the edge of freaking out because I was about to lay eyes on Elijah for the first time in fifteen years. Can you imagine that? Forget about my long history; look at my recent history. I’d come face to face with gods and goddesses, a three-headed dog, the reaper of souls, one of the worst murderesses in all Greek mythology, and a giant man made of bronze. And here I was about to pee my pants over an old boyfriend. If Chad and Keri hadn’t been there, I might’ve slapped my own face and told myself to get over it. Fortunately, a completely bizarre sight brought me back down to earth. Sitting at a table and waving us over were two bronies—two bronies I recognized. One of them was hip hop sensation M.C. Pliny the Elder and the other was Tiresias, the blind oracle. The very same oracle that’d assisted me on my most recent misadventure. Both he and the rapper were dressed as ponies. Try and take that sight in, why don’t you? A Mythnik of epic standing (and of my long-time acquaintance) having a cup of Joe with one of the biggest names in African American music.
Chad acknowledged the two of them with a return wave, and he, Keri and I went over and sat down. Elijah was nowhere to be seen—which prompted Keri to ask, “Is my dad here?”
“Yes, of course he’s here,” Tiresias replied. “He’s using the lil’ bronies’ room.”
I smirked across the table. “Hello, Ty. Fancy meeting you here?”
The seer squinted at me. “Dora? Is that you, Dora?”
“Yeah, it’s me. On the list of people, I expected to see here today, you were second to last. Last was M.C. Pliny the Elder.”
Ty shrugged his shoulders. “So, I enjoy a children’s cartoon and the good fellowship it brings. Who cares? It’s not like there’s anyone left in my life you could tell.”
I was sitting right next to the M.C. He said, “Yeah, girl. Cut the old man some slack. There’s a lot worse things he could be going and doing.”
I turned to look at the hip hop star. “You know, I wanna say you’re right—‘cause you are—it’s just I’m having trouble right now ‘cause you’re dressed like a chocolate Pegasus.”
He nodded. “That’s right. And I’ve never felt more alive.”
We all looked up when we heard a new voice. “Was anybody else murdered while I was gone?” It was Elijah. To lean on a cliché, my heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He was shocked to see me too. “Dora...” he said, sitting down hard. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m here because your daughter didn’t know where you were, and she was worried.”
Elijah looked at Keri. “Your mother didn’t tell you where I was? I told her where I was gonna be and what the contact information was and everything.”
The teen shook her head. “She didn’t say a word. I don’t think she even said goodbye before she left.”
Elijah’s head sank into his shoulders. “Fuck. Well, that’s not cool. I’d offer to talk with her when she gets back, but we both know it won’t do any good.” The elder Wiener turned back to me. “God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we put you out. This isn’t the way this weekend was supposed to go.”
I shrugged. “Now that I’m involved, it’s a good thing. There’s an Evil lurking around this place. As in the kind of Evil that’s my stock in trade. If you haven’t figured it out yet, he’s looking for you assholes.”
Chad, Elijah, Tiresias, and M.C. Pliny the Elder looked at one another, surprised and tense.
Pliny looked at me. “What do you mean he’s looking for us?”
I pointed at him and said, “Cut the shit. Where’re you schmucks keeping Pegasus?”
Elijah was the first one to open his mouth. “We’ve got him stashed—”
M.C. Pliny the Elder cut him off (both verbally and by reaching over Tiresias to swat his chest). “Man! What’re you doing? Did you not hear her?! Did she not say there’s some kinda evil running around this place that wants Pegasus? What if it’s in one of the people sitting near us? Hell, what if it’s in her, and we don’t know it? Use your damn head.”
“Alright,” I said, trying to rein in the panic before it got going. “Pliny’s right. Keep the info under your hats for now. Our first priority’ll be getting out of this place. Then we can worry about... the asset.” I heard Hope coo at the word “asset”.
“Good plan,” Pliny replied. “But don’t call me ‘Pliny’. Not if we’re gonna be friends.”
“What should I call you?”
“My peeps call me ‘P.T.’ But they smash it together to make ‘Petey’.”
“‘Petey’ it is.”
We all stood. Elijah gave Ty a hand. “How’re we gonna get past the cops and the EMTs?” Keri asked. “If they think there’s something contagious in here, they’re gonna keep it locked up tighter than a drum.”
Petey looked at El. “You didn’t tell me your daughter was smarter than you.”
“I never denied it either,” the elder Wiener replied. He came over to stand near Keri and me. It was weird being close to him. He smelled the same.
I scanned the crowd, looking not only for signs of the Kraken, but also for ideas. Keri was right: If anything, there were more cops in the place than there’d been when we crossed the atrium. The sound of static-y communications occasionally broke the near-silence. “We could try going out the way we came in, I guess.”
The teenager pointed across to the food court. Right then, there was a group of paramedics coming through the door we’d used to enter from the rear parking lot. “I don’t think so,” she said.
I led us out of the coffee bar and onto the main floor. Right next to the bar, there was a floor to ceiling window looking down on the building’s front entrance. From it, you could see all the way to the Pacific a few blocks away. On those few blocks, were the most police cars, fire trucks and ambulances I’d ever seen in one place. Good for the city of Santa Monica. They were taking the incidents at BronyKonfab very seriously. Good for their reputation; not so good for our escape plan. “Maybe we should head for the bottom floor. There’s bound to be service tunnels.”
“Wouldn’t those be the first things the police would close?” Tiresias asked. “At this point they don’t know what they’re dealing with. Could be a contagion, could be a crazed serial killer. Either way, they wanna make sure nobody sneaks out.”
I turned and checked out the central area. The one dropping down four stories to the huge lobby below. There were no trees. Some convention centers had live trees which meant the odd bird would sneak in now and again. But no, no trees and no birds. That meant we couldn’t fall back on Ty’s psychic gift. As cryptic as h
is pronouncements could be, they were still better than nothing.
“I’ve got a kooky idea,” Keri said.
“I’m listening...”
“You suck people inside your jug, right? What if you suck us in? Then you’d only have to worry about getting yourself out. Once you were out, you could let us loose.”
That gave me pause. Keri was nothing if not an outside-the-box thinker. “That... was impressive,” I said. “There’s only two things wrong with it. First of all, you have to be evil to qualify for... jug suction. Second of all, I can’t kick people out. Only put them in.”
Hope chimed in, startling Petey. “I think you might be wrong about the second one,” she said. “I think I could selectively give people the boot. But, they’d just be spirits. They’d need magic blood to reconstitute themselves.”
“Yeah, that’s way too complicated,” I replied.
“Plus, like you said, none of them are evil. With the possible exception of Mr. Petey.”
Petey sighed. “A young man gets some fame, he gets some money in his pocket, he goes on the road. A young man debauches. It’s an inevitability.”
I raised my hands. “Hey, I’m not judging.”
“I ain’t no saint. But I ain’t no sinner either. There’s just one thing I gotta ask...”
“What’s that?”
“Why do you have a talking flowerpot on your back?”
Tiresias answered for me. “That story is way too long for right now.”
“I’ll second that.”
Before we could spend any more quality time bantering, something weird happened. A waiter in the coffee bar screamed, drawing our attention. He was leaking blood from his eyes and he had as many knives in his left hand as a human can hold. With his right hand, he began hurling them at us.
My reflexes kicked in. I reached over the railing of the bar and grabbed a nearly empty plate right off of a surprised patron’s table. With it, I deflected as much of the airborne cutlery as I could. That translated to three knives before the plate shattered. By that time, I’d already shouted, “Get behind me!” The confused men (and the girl) all did their best to line up single file in my narrow shadow. Unfortunately, before I’d gotten the strap free from the pithos, Tiresias caught one in the forearm and blood was drawn. With my right hand, I caught the jug before it fell. With my left hand, I grabbed a cloth napkin off the same table where I’d gotten the plate. I tossed it behind me. Petey caught it and wrapped Ty’s arm like a practiced field medic. I brought the pithos around, put my hand on the lid and said to the possessed waiter, “Alright, hold still, motherfucker!”
