When I looked up again I was at Sage and Damen, standing in the shadow of the chocolate factory. I hardly ever noticed the smell now. It was something that seemed like it had always been a part of the Outlaws.
There was a light breeze. One of our banners whispered secrets and dropped them on the sidewalk before I could decode them. I didn’t care. At this point any secrets were too much for me. I went home, straight home, and the first person I bumped into when I got there was Floss. This was like having my decision about who to talk to made for me, like the answer to what I should do was written in calligraphic fonts on a little card and delivered on a silver tray.
Floss was wrapped in a Mexican shawl striped in desert paintbrush colors. It couldn’t possibly have had even one tiny thing to do with The Bastard and the Beauty, so I assumed she just liked it. Liking something Floss liked might be a good way to open up a conversation.
“That’s a fine thing,” I said. Then I completely ruined my opening ploy by pulling her into the corner of the living room that was the farthest away from any door. This was definitely not slick, and if I’d been trying for subterfuge, this was the worst way to go about it. But I’d never been one for small talk and Floss was even worse. She shook off my hand and glared at me like I’d just said that pink clouds shouldn’t have fur trim.
“That’s not what you want to say. It couldn’t be.” Floss folded her arms and waited with raised eyebrows.
I sighed. “No. You’re right.” And I launched myself into Knobbe III’s little story. Getting started felt like jumping off the Keating Street Bridge, the one that I’d crossed not that many minutes before, but once I’d started I couldn’t seem to stop. Bridge jumping similarities there, too, I guess. Just plunge on down. I not only told the drink, dust, and magic story, I told all my feelings and all my fears, too. Things I hadn’t even known were there. But they certainly were. Whatever calm mellowness Nicholas believed I possessed was simply gone. When I heard what came out of my mouth I realized that I’d been worried since that day when Nicholas came running backstage, giddy about a possible review in Nighttimes.
WHAT I SAID TO FLOSS
Drinks, drugs, magic, and pixie dust!
Guilt by association!
Would Tonio get arrested? Again?
If that happened, would Max be able to control himself?
What was going to happen to The Bastard and the Beauty?
Worse, what was going to happen to the Outlaws?
Worse more, what was going to happen to all of us? With Outlaws we were a family. Without it, we were more like a lost bunch of misfits. (Later Floss swore that I wrung my hands at this point, but I think she was just being dramatic.)
Why was this happening? (Said on a long, loud moan.)
During this performance Floss looked angry, disgusted, and finally, sad. Then she said, in a very un-Flosslike way, “If there’s fallout from any of this, it’s going to hit Tonio, not me, and it could end up being just like before. I can’t be part of that. I won’t be part of that.” She added, more to herself than to me, “I’d never put Tonio through that again.”
“What does that mean?” It almost sounded like Floss was ready to walk. No more Floss, no more Outlaws. And if she stayed and Tonio was lost? Same thing, really. We were a set, the six of us. Lose one, and everything would start to tumble. I hadn’t been wrong when I’d said we were a family. For me, at least, the Outlaws were that proverbial place to come back to, that place where they have to take you in. But even better than that, they were my friends, in the truest sense. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing that.
Floss stood there in her corner, wrapped in her rainbow shawl, and finally said, “I wish I had an answer, Persia.”
I leaned against the wall, more for support than for anything else, and stared with care at the space between my feet. I was watching the floor with such intense scrutiny that I didn’t know Lucia was there until she spoke.
“Like I said before…” It was Lucia’s whisper-quiet voice. “We could go to Faerie.”
Now it was Floss’s turn to slump into the wall. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, more to herself than to either of us. Then straight to Lucia she said, “That might not be such a good idea.” Her voice was the gentle one she used so often with Lucia. “For one thing, there’s the troll. You do remember Reginald, right?”
Lucia shivered, but she held firm. “I haven’t seen him since forever.”
“Maybe not, but if you did, what would you do? When you’re with me you’ve got a modicum of protection. If we go back for an extended stay, I can’t promise that I’ll always be nearby.”
“Maybe he won’t have me in his brain anymore. Or maybe he won’t recognize me. Didn’t you say trolls have bad eyes?”
Floss nodded but said, “They have a terrific sense of smell, though, to make up for the eyes. And they don’t forget much of anything.”
“Um,” I said. “Want to tell me what happened?” It wasn’t hard to sound interested, but I didn’t want them to think I was chasing a train wreck, either.
“No,” Floss said.
“It was a really bad troll,” Lucia said. Then she brightened. “But lots of other things are good.”
“There’s always that dichotomy,” Floss said in a cryptic way that sounded more like the usual Floss.
“Oh,” I said, because I wasn’t sure what else there was to say to that. Instead I asked, “What’s the other thing?”
“What?” Floss asked.
“You said for one thing there’s a troll. What’s the other thing?”
Floss crossed her arms and glared at me.
Lucia’s glance moved between Floss and me. She spoke carefully when she said, “Sometimes parts of Floss’s family—”
“The ones who rule things?” I asked.
“Right.” Lucia cut her eyes toward Floss. “They’re—um—they’re not necessarily…”
She trailed away. Floss sighed and said, “They’re hard to deal with.”
“Hard to deal with” couldn’t be all. I moved my head back and forth between the two of them. Just when I’d decided to ask for more clarification, Nicholas walked through the front door. I don’t think he registered the peculiar huddle we were in because the first thing he did was to shoot both arms up in a V-for-Victory gesture and say “Finished! Last final.”
We all looked at him. Somehow, in my mind, finals seemed so mundane after Knobbe III’s story, after my conversation with Floss, after Lucia and the trolls. But Nicholas was obviously expecting something, so I said, “Congratulations.” Even I thought it sounded weak.
He must have really seen the huddle in the corner then because he said, “What’s going on?” in a cautious voice, like someone approaching a nervous stray.
I glanced toward the door where Lucia had come out. Was Max back there, ear to the wall? Was Tonio? At this point, did it even matter? Two-thirds of the Outlaws were here, and most of them already knew what had happened. And maybe, I thought in a sudden burst of optimism, what Knobbe had said about street rumors, the kind that could get us all in trouble, was nothing, after all.
Everyone was looking at me. Too many eyes.
“We should tell him.” Lucia was the one who spoke. “We all need to know, after all.”
I held on to the optimistic streak that had brushed past me. “You know, maybe it’s really nothing. Maybe I—maybe we—overreacted.”
Floss snorted. Even Lucia widened her eyes as if to say You must be kidding me while Floss added, “Yeah. Right.”
Nicholas looked from face to face and finally settled. “Persia?” he asked.
This was when Tonio charged into the room, Max on his heels. Tonio’s boots were so loud they were probably knocking plaster off the ceilings of the apartment below.
“Lying little bastard,” Tonio muttered. “Damn him straight to hell on a one-way ticket.”
He was holding an official-looking envelope in his hand, one of those big white ones with many m
arkings that always send fear through your heart when they show up in your mail. The envelope fluttered in the breeze Tonio created, flapping its ends like a trapped seagull beating its wings.
Max moved with tiny, quiet steps, not like Max at all. He looked like he was trying to be helpful and solicitous and stay out of the way, all at the same time.
Nicholas watched everything with the attention he’d give a good movie. His eyes got bigger and bigger. Those eyes found me again and once more he said, “Persia?”
“Nicholas,” Tonio snapped at exactly the same moment, “you know law. Tell me if this forlorn piece of inflammatory speech says what I think it says.” And he thrust the envelope at Nicholas.
Floss was moving closer to Tonio in a slow, steady way. It was as if she were offering moral support by her presence alone. Lucia looked ready to cry. And I just looked from Nicholas to Tonio, from the letter to Max, from Lucia to Floss.
Nicholas took the envelope and held it between his thumb and forefinger, arm straight out. He seemed dubious.
“Well?” Tonio snapped again. This time he sounded like a quick crack of thunder.
“I haven’t read it yet,” Nicholas pointed out. “The way everybody’s acting, I’m afraid to.”
Tonio snapped his eyes. I swear, I almost heard them close and reopen like old wooden shutters. “Read the fucking thing.”
Lucia gasped and I coughed. Out of all of us, Tonio was the one who swore the least. Even Lucia beat him.
Tonio grimaced and added, “Please.”
Nicholas read. He read for what seemed like a very long time. When he finally looked up he said, “Illegal and magical substances, corrupting minors, and unlawful assembly?”
“Don’t ask me. Tell me,” Tonio said, harsh voiced.
Nicholas glanced at the paper again, then said, “I could repeat it all without the question mark, but I don’t think that’s quite what you had in mind.” He waved the paper in the air. “What is this?”
“You’re supposed to be the law student,” Tonio said, but now he didn’t sound mad, he just sounded tired. Worn out. And old with it.
“No, I know what it is. It’s a subpoena. It’s got a court date right here. One week from…” He stopped, yanked a phone out of his pocket, clicked through some menus, and nodded. “Yeah, one week from today. But what I meant was, what is this bullshit?”
“Major,” Floss said, and I could tell the word was sour in her mouth. “It has to be Major.”
“Of course it’s Major.” Max had been silent for so long that Lucia and I both started when he spoke. “I just don’t know how he found someone gullible enough to go along with this.”
“The word’s out on the street.” My voice sounded flat and dull. “Pink drinks, and red ones too. Pixie dust. Magical potions on top of magic, all courtesy of the Outlaws. Knobbe Three said. And he always knows. All Major really needed were a few of the right shills to start spreading the word.”
After a couple of beats of silence Floss said, “Apparently he found them.”
Nicholas said, in a very careful voice, “At least the drinks were pink and red. Now, if they’d been touted as purple…”
We all stared at him until I finally said, “What?”
“You know. The darker the color, the more illegal the substance.” He lifted his eyebrows and looked hopeful. When no one responded he sighed. “It was supposed to sort of be a joke?”
I patted his hand. “Sure. Obviously.”
Tonio sat down in the middle of the room. Crumbled down, actually, with none of his usual grace. His voice was painful to hear when he said, “I can’t do this again. I thought I could, but I can’t.” He looked way, way up at Max. “Don’t let this happen to me. Please.”
I thought my heart would break. If it did, it would be so loud that everyone in the room would hear it.
Lucia had the tears that I wanted to cry running down her face. “Don’t go,” she whispered. She waved at the paper that Nicholas still held. He looked like he was holding a rotting fish by the tail. “Just don’t show up,” Lucia continued. She sat next to Tonio and took his hand. “We’ll hide.”
I looked at everything crammed into Max’s apartment. I thought of all we’d left behind at the chocolate factory. I thought, too, of all of us, and I asked, “Where? How? Because if he can’t get Tonio, you can bet he’ll go for Max. And if he can’t get Max, he’ll go for one of us.”
“We didn’t do anything,” Lucia wailed, and she cried even harder. Tonio put his arm around her shoulders and she buried her face in his collar.
“When this happened before,” Nicholas said. “Um, I mean—well, what did happen? With the prison sentence and all.” He sounded like his question might be in bad taste, but that it needed to be asked anyway.
“Furies of badness akin to the Dark Courts of Evil,” muttered Floss.
It was all too much for me—the tension, the thick hard air, the innuendos. I lost all the calm that I was supposed to possess. “Floss,” I snapped, “what the hell are you talking about? Speak English, for Mab’s sake.”
“If I’m speaking for Mab’s sake, I don’t need to worry about what you do and don’t understand, mortal.” Her eyes actually flashed and she moved a step closer to me.
I didn’t know this Floss. I stepped back, moving fast, and tripped on Tonio. I would have landed flat on the floor if Max hadn’t grabbed me and kept me upright.
“Enough,” Max said. His tone was hard and strong and fierce. “Enough, all of you. Just stop everything for one minute. None of you are helping him”—he pointed, of course at Tonio—“and all of you are hurting one another. I don’t have the resources to keep anyone else upright and functioning right now. We all have to take care of one another if we’re going to come out of this intact. But I have to say that right now, Tonio is my main concern.”
He glared at each of us in turn, then added, “Am I making all this clear?”
Nicholas was the first to speak. “He’s right. We can’t help if we spend all our energy infighting.”
“Sorry,” Floss said, staring at the floor between my feet.
“Sorry, too,” I said. I looked straight at Floss when I spoke, willing her to look up. When I saw her eyelids flicker, I added, “Sorrier, actually. I spoke first.”
Floss shrugged, but she lifted her head. She looked like Floss again.
Lucia was still next to Tonio. She said, “Nicholas is right. Max, too. We have to work with one another. It’s important.” She sounded so sincere, so honest, that I almost smiled. If we couldn’t get together behind Lucia, who could we get behind?
And just like that, snap, we were the Outlaws again. Now in more ways than one, apparently, because with the mess we were in, who knew what we might have to do next?
X
“The answer’s in the petals.”
Nicholas was buried in precedents. He wasn’t finding much, or so it seemed, because he kept growling and smacking books on the table. Every time he did that Floss, who was sitting across from him folding complicated-looking paper flowers, would jump and swear in a soft, controlled, not-at-all-like-Floss way.
Max and Tonio were sitting close, talking in low inaudible voices. Lucia was in the kitchen boiling water for gallons of tea. And me? I was drifting, on the move because I couldn’t seem to sit still. Really, at this point in time, book art didn’t seem to be what was called for, and I wasn’t sure what else to offer.
“Persia,” Floss said. I thought she was irritated because I kept wandering back and forth behind her chair, but all she seemed to want was help. “Come here. These still need stems.”
“Okay.” If I couldn’t do books, I could still do paper.
Floss rolled a stem, slim and perfect. It looked like she was rolling an exquisite joint. I tried one and it looked more like an unwieldy cigar. “Hmmm,” I said. Making flower stems was more difficult than making a book with cross bindings. I held my stem up for a Floss inspection. She barely glanced at it, th
en said, in an unusually calm tone, “That’s fine.”
“So, Floss,” I said to keep my mind as occupied as my fingers. “Why are we making flowers?”
She looked at me sideways and sighed. If she’d said, “Stupid question,” she wouldn’t have been any clearer. But all she really did say was, “I need to get a message home and I don’t have time to go myself.”
I rolled a few more stems while I thought about this. My stems were getting better, which was probably the only nice thing that had happened today, but I still couldn’t make the connection between Floss’s words and what my hands were doing. “I don’t get it,” I admitted, after a full minute of thinking.
Floss pursed her lips. She grabbed a small clay pot and smacked it down between us, smacked it hard enough that Nicholas looked up briefly and frowned. Floss ignored him and dumped a bunch of stemmed flowers in the pot. Like magic they rearranged themselves, became a lively little bouquet. She added three of the flowers with my stems. They sprang to life too, although I could tell that the weight of the stems was dragging them down.
Floss waved her hands over the pot and the new green smell of spring filled the room. Even Tonio and Max looked our way. Then Floss leaned in close to the flowers and whispered. They nodded their little flower heads, just once, so fast that I almost doubted what I’d seen.
“Now,” Floss said, “I put them on the back porch, near the steps. Then a flyer picks up the message, delivers it, and brings the answer back.”
“How do you know when the answer’s here?” I was amazed by all of this. Fey air mail. “Does someone show up at the door or what?”
Floss raised her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “No, Persia. The flowers die. The answer’s in the petals.” And she waved her hands over the flowers again. The life washed out of the vibrant petals, and a few small pieces of paper fell to the table, touching the wood with a whisper of sound. I looked at them, looked hard, but there were no words, no symbols that I could see, nothing at all.
I pointed. “Is that it? The answer?”
Floss sighed again. “Were these by the back door?” She raised both eyebrows before she added, “Think before you speak.”
Blood & Flowers Page 6
