Blood & Flowers

by Penny Blubaugh

  Oh.

  “A demonstration, right?”

  Floss nodded.

  “How did you…” I touched one paper petal and heard it rasp against my finger.

  Floss shrugged, waved the flowers back to life, said, “Magic,” and went back to rolling the last few stems.

  Lucia came in just as the flowers sprang to life for the second time. She carried a teapot the size of a small porcupine, which she set carefully in the middle of the table. She sniffed the green spring in the air and watched the flowers nod in a breeze I couldn’t feel, then said, “You’re sending a message. What does it say?”

  Floss looked straight up at Lucia and said, “What we need for Tonio. Help.”

  The flowers were dead before dusk. Lucia found them when she took the tea leaves out to the compost bucket. She called Floss, her voice pitched high with something that was either excitement or nerves.

  I followed Floss out to the tiny porch above the back stairs. Paper petals were scattered across the scarred peeling wood like rune stones. Floss scanned the porch from right to left, from left to right, then trudged inside, head down.

  Trudged. Floss didn’t trudge, she always moved with the grace of a trained ballet dancer.

  I swallowed and licked my lips. “Lucia?”

  When she turned to look at me she moved as if her eyes were being pulled away from those petals by a slow puppet string. When I saw those eyes my stomach dipped.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” I asked.

  Lucia took a long breath. “I don’t read flowers very well,” she hedged, but when a tear dribbled down her cheek I didn’t really believe her.

  “Floss didn’t look too happy,” I pointed out, “so it must not be good.”

  She stared at me and said, “Well.” The word seemed to be dragged out of her throat. It was followed, with equal slowness, by “I think it says they won’t help.”

  As if further explanation was needed, she kept talking in that same sad little voice. “She’s always been the odd one. In her family most of them practically glow with fey righteousness. In Faerie, that righteousness is intense. There’s not a lot of room for those who don’t follow the prescribed line. It all makes Floss stand out. Her younger brother’s the only one who’s like her, and he hides it much better.” Lucia stopped for a second and smiled a wistful, secret little smile; then she continued. “And she spends all this time here with us. She doesn’t go home much at all. And if she does, she doesn’t see them. So I think—I guess they don’t see much point in helping her now.”

  I absorbed this Floss information. It was nothing like what I’d expected to hear. Not the part about no help. I’d pretty much gotten that already. But the family part. That was what I hadn’t understood before when Floss said her family was hard to deal with. I understood it now. It sounded like I’d left home for almost the same reasons that Floss didn’t go home. For my part, I couldn’t stomach the conservative, holier-than-thou attitudes that were supposed to be my life guidelines, especially when they came from my drugged-out, fey-phobic parents. I wondered just what ideas Floss and her parents differed on, but I didn’t bother to ask. I didn’t think I’d get an answer. It seemed, though, that Floss and I had a lot more in common than I’d ever thought. Neither of us did what we were supposed to do, and neither of us, apparently, were big on family bonding.

  Still, Floss and Faerie had been our golden door, our last-ditch escape route, at least in my mind. If things were as bad as Lucia said, I was afraid that we were in big trouble.

  I made a sharp right turn and marched back inside. I passed Nicholas, who was putting more water on to boil. He looked at me, looked behind me at Lucia, set the kettle in the sink with barely a sound, and followed us without saying one word.

  Our little parade stepped in time past Tonio and Max, who were still huddled. It seemed like they’d been that way talking, talking for days. Even they noticed that something was happening. They fell in behind Nicholas, which meant that all the Outlaws were together when I went up to Floss. She was sitting in her workroom, hands oddly still, and she seemed to look deep into an emptiness I couldn’t see. I hated to disturb that contemplation, but we needed to know what we had for options. That date on Tonio’s subpoena was getting closer hour by hour.

  “Lucia says it’s bad news,” I blurted. “She says they won’t help.”

  Floss focused on me, then her eyes widened as she saw everyone behind me, but all she said was, “My, word travels so quickly here.” Her tone was very mild.

  I know I slumped. I’d really wanted Lucia to be wrong. I’d really wanted to know we had some excellent, last-minute place we could go to if it came to that. In fact, I’d counted on it all along. Whenever something seemed to be getting worse I’d think, well, we can always run to Faerie. Lucia did it when she needed a place to hide. We could do it too. Except now it looked like we couldn’t. Or if we did, it might not be much better than here, at least for Floss. Same problem, different players, sort of.

  Floss let her eyes scan each of us; then she said, “My family members aren’t the only inhabitants of Faerie, you know.”

  “It’s true,” Lucia said. “But you do have to know that some of the other ones can be scary.” As an afterthought she added, “At least sometimes.”

  I remembered Lucia and Floss’s earlier conversation about the troll. I started to ask about him again, but I saw Floss’s lips curve into an almost smile, so I waited. “As you say,” she said to Lucia. “But, as you’ve also said, just some of them and even those aren’t always frightening. Some of the scary things you’re remembering are probably mind leftovers from when you first crossed over. You were alone then. Everything’s scarier when you’re alone.”

  In an even voice Lucia said, “That’s true. And I know about the good ones too. There’s El Jeffery, for sure. And Freddy.” When she said the name Freddy her voice became gentle and her eyes shone. Then she stood a little straighter and added, “But even though I think we need to keep Faerie as an option, I want them to know everything’s not perfect. That’s important. For decision making.”

  I wanted to know who the people Lucia mentioned were. Was El Jeffery Floss’s brother? Was Freddy an old friend? I wanted to know just what we’d meet in Faerie, if we ever did go. I didn’t ask because Floss nodded her head and, as this was a conversation about her home, I figured whatever she said took precedence. What she said was, “Of course, and you’re right. They need to be prepared if and when they do go. But remember, when you’re with me now we move quickly. We’re on a mission of some type. Scouting locations. Looking for silver down. Things like that. We don’t really chat much with most beings. We really don’t even see many people. Scariness has different levels.”

  “We should at least mention the ones I see out of the corners of my eyes sometimes,” Lucia said, sounding firm. “Those are the ones I think they need to know about the most.”

  Floss shrugged. It made her look like the Floss I was used to, and it was reassuring. “If they’re eye-corner creatures, of course they’re scary,” Floss said. “That’s their job, after all.”

  I filed that bit of information away, just in case.

  Floss was still talking. “But there are people I’m on good terms with. Lots of them. So don’t despair. At least not about that, not yet. Just keep what Lucia said in mind. She’s right in thinking that it could influence your decision.”

  Tonio spoke out loud for the first time in what seemed like months. “I agree with Floss. We have so many more things we can despair about just now.”

  I twisted around to see him, because if Floss sounded like Floss, Tonio sounded even more like Tonio. His eyes had a little of their spark back and he looked taller and stronger. I wondered, not for the first time, just what he and Max had been saying to each other during all those long hours of huddled discussion.

  Tonio kept talking. “Let’s all just despair about getting through today. And then tomorrow. Something’s bound to ha
ppen soon.”

  Max put his hand on Tonio’s shoulder. They looked so strong, so together, that I tried to let myself relax for the first time since we’d gotten Major’s message. And it worked, for right then. But it was hard to keep the tension at bay. For me the feelings just snuck up every now and then, like the little nudges a kitten makes when it rubs its head on your ankle, or nips at your fingertips. And as time wandered on I could tell by the way different people acted that our problems had to be tugging on their minds too.

  So what do people do when they’re in a tense, tight situation? The kind that sometimes makes breathing hard, that wakes you up in the middle of the night and makes you rub your stomach, that peers over your shoulder and occasionally bumps into you just so you don’t forget it’s there?

  Here’s what the Outlaws did. We performed, adhering to that old adage, “The show must go on.” And we performed to large crowds. The street talk didn’t seem to keep anyone away. In fact, it almost seemed to play in our favor. Kind of like saying, “We know some of the weeds in the abandoned lots are drugs. Make sure you report it if you find it.” Which of course makes everyone start looking in every abandoned lot they can find and makes no one start reporting a thing. So sure, some people came looking for drugs, but even if they did, when they didn’t find any they still stayed. And the rest? They came to see a great show, which is exactly what they got. The power of the Outlaws!

  We played to sold-out houses, and we played well. As Tonio’s court date came closer we played with a kind of desperation. It was almost as if we believed that good shows would keep the demons, and the law, away from us. And it worked, sort of. Floss swore she didn’t see even one demon of any kind, and no police ever showed up to challenge an audience.

  There was one afternoon when Floss stopped in the middle of painting eye makeup on a flying fish and simply stood in place, brush in hand. I was walking past, arms filled with that night’s programs, and noticed the lack of normal Floss frenzy. I never knew if Floss was simply hyper or if being fey gave her extra energy, but she was always doing something. It was as if her fingers and her brain had to be active for her to be happy. I said, “Something wrong?”

  Floss shook her head like a wet dog. Then she focused on me. “Persia,” she said.

  “Right. Many points scored.” I watched her, waiting.

  “That was so strange,” she said, more to herself than to me. “You didn’t feel that, did you?”

  “Since I don’t know what you’re talking about, probably no,” I said.

  “Huh,” Floss said. “Oh, well.”

  When she didn’t say anything more I asked, “And the thing I was supposed to feel?”

  Floss shrugged. “It felt like a presence from Faerie just walked through the room. Or passed by outside. Somewhere close to us, at least. It was dim, almost as if it was wearing a mask, but it definitely felt fey.”

  “Floss,” I said carefully, “I don’t think I’m your best bet to spy masked fey presences.”

  She shrugged again. “Why not?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Maybe you have me confused with Lucia?”

  “Of course not.” Floss waved her hand in a dismissive gesture and black paint floated off her brush and landed on the floor in a kanji design. “You’re as sensitive as anyone else.”

  This was news to me, but before I could question her, Floss said, “If it was fey and it was masked it could be for any number of reasons. People come and go on a regular basis, and not all of them want to be seen. Or felt, if it comes to that.” She twisted her fish and looked at the other eye. “I’ve noticed things like this before,” she added. “Nothing comes of it…usually.”

  Usually. Not reassuring. But maybe I was just being paranoid. Still. “Usually?” I repeated.

  Floss brushed the koi’s eye with shadow, then held the fish up for inspection. I walked behind her and stared at it, nose to nose. “Beautiful,” I said. “And—usually?”

  She shook her head. “Persia, we’ve got so many things to worry about right now. Let’s not add something that has a high probability of being nothing.”

  And because she was Floss, and she knew about fey, I decided to go along with her. Because, after all, if she’d felt this before and there hadn’t been any repercussions, why worry now? As Floss said, we had enough other things to deal with.

  One of those things was that there was more and more street news about dust and drinks. There still weren’t any that we knew of at our performances, though, and if there were, we knew for certain that we weren’t supplying. We shoved that news off into the corner too, the corner occupied by the unnamed fey presence.

  As far as we could tell, there wasn’t a connection between any of this—masked presences, dust, or drinks—and Tonio and the subpoena. It caused me to breathe deep when I realized that fact, and it felt like the first calm, deep breath I’d taken since I last talked to Knobbe III. Then I remembered our legal issues and I went back to little, shallow breaths, the kind that never seemed to get enough air into my lungs.

  The one good thing that happened was actually a nonevent. None of us saw Major at all.

  The court date, though? That still kept coming, stalking toward us like Lucia in her chicken suit. Big slapping steps, loud and forceful.

  Nicholas pulled me aside one afternoon and said, “Persia, I’m getting desperate. I’ve looked through every damn thing I can find and I can’t see any way to keep Tonio from having to go to court. I was sure I’d find some neat, tricky little loophole, but right now this seems so tight. I don’t know what to do next.”

  I put on my happy face, just like donning a mask, and said, “They can’t really prove anything, can they? It’s all so nebulous, isn’t it? It’ll turn out okay, won’t—”

  Nicholas stopped my babbling questions by saying, “What the hell are you talking about? Of course they can prove something. Even if it’s not true, I’m pretty sure Major’s got all his witnesses lined up and ready to go.”

  “But if they lie, that’s perjury, isn’t it? That’s unlawful too, right? I mean—”

  “Persia.” He sounded desperate. “Stop talking in questions. And think before you open your mouth.”

  Third time in recent history that I’d been told that. It was sort of cosmic, really.

  “But Nicholas—”

  “No. Stop. Here’s what you need to do. Go see Knobbe Three. Get his take on the news on the street.”

  I started to say something, but he shook his head and just kept talking. “I know you already talked to him. Do it again. He knows everything. See if there have been any changes.”

  When I still stood there, not moving, he reached out and caught my hand in his. “Please, Persia? I need help. I feel like everyone’s waiting for me to pull something magic out of the air, and I can’t. I’m not Floss. I’m not even Lucia. I’m a dumb student. I’m trying to apply everything I’ve learned, and none of it’s working.”

  I wrapped my other hand around his, a three-hand clasp. “You’re not dumb” was the first thing out of my mouth.

  Nicholas almost laughed. “I wasn’t compliment fishing.”

  “I know. It’s just important that you know that.”

  He cleared his throat, but I didn’t wait for him to talk. “I’ll go see Knobbe Three,” I said, and I walked out the door.

  XI

  “A little something for the road.”

  “Hello, Knobbe Three,” I said. I was quiet, walking on pins, talking in whispers.

  Knobbe III nodded and his eyes traveled through the store. It was crowded, people hunched in all the little nooks and crannies. I wasn’t comfortable asking questions, not with all those ears around.

  I said, “Big run on stationery today?” which made him grin.

  “Letter Writers Anonymous conference in town,” he said, and he smiled again.

  “What a good thing I bought my calling cards last week.”

  Three people came up to the counter. In quick successio
n Knobbe sold one journal, four sheets of gold wrapping paper trimmed with green baby rabbits, two calligraphy pens, a set of paper and envelopes in pumpkin orange, and a rubber stamp that looked like it said, “Eyes are for lying.” I stood off to one side and I waited.

  When the foot traffic had cleared I said, “So, what’s the word on the street?”

  “Depends on which word you’re looking for.”

  “The Bastard and the Beauty?” I prompted.

  Knobbe III stopped smiling. “How’s the box office doing?”

  “Fine.” I was cautious.

  “It’s possible that may not continue.”

  “Very oblique, Knobbe.”

  He shrugged. “No. Not really. Word on the street isn’t all that great. And it’s got nothing to do with the actuality of The Bastard and the Beauty.”

  I tried not to bite my lip. “Is it worse than it was the last time we talked?”

  A little struggle walked across his face before he said, “Only the illegal substances part. The magic stories are still there, but they don’t seem to be escalating. Those colored drinks and pixie dust, though—people seem to love those. I saw some graffiti just yesterday. ‘Get high free at B&B.’”

  I said, “Grr,” which made him nod.

  “Some of the drinks are turning purple now, and blue. Just to—you know—liven things up.”

  Purple and blue. Like Nicholas had said, everyone knew that the tougher the drug the deeper the color. Pink was bad enough to get a subpoena. Red was nastier, but still on the top, the safer end of the spectrum. Purple and blue, though—those colors would make it that much easier to make a case.

  All of this must have been plain to read on my face, because Knobbe held out his hand, an imprinted button nestled in his palm. “A little something for the road.”

  I picked up the smooth white button. I read the etched black word on its face and I smiled. “Outlaws?” Then Knobbe’s words caught up with me. “For the road?”