Motor City Mage

by Cindy Spencer Pape

“It’s not too different from beer,” he said as he sat down and handed out the mugs. “Maybe closer to hard cider. Ale or something like it is a pretty universal concept. They’re sending over food in a minute, and I booked two rooms, assuming you two want to share.”

  “You assumed right,” Des said. Even if they didn’t do anything but sleep, he wasn’t about to let Lana out of his sight. He still considered it his responsibility to get her home in one piece.

  Lana shot him a sharp glance, but didn’t contradict him. “Do they have running water in the rooms?” She sipped her drink and gave a small, happy sigh before taking a deeper swallow.

  Vin nodded. “Oversized tubs even, to fit the locals. I’ve stayed here a couple times in the past. The place is pretty comfortable.”

  Lana took another drink. “You know, this isn’t bad. Kind of fruity, but with a kick to it.” She nudged Des. “Try some. It takes a lot for a werewolf to get drunk, so I can be the designated driver.”

  Des sipped. There was no way in hell he was going to let himself get drunk on a foreign plane either. His metabolism and magic could handle a little alcohol, and he had to admit, the cool beverage tasted good. He tipped his face back to enjoy the light breeze from an overhead fan. Clockwork, part of him noticed absently. There were also gaslights here, or something similar. The world didn’t seem to have electricity or cars, but they had some technology. He’d seen a similar wind-up ceiling fan at the wizard’s house. With luck, there’d be one upstairs in the bedroom as well, along with the promised bathtub and hopefully a big, comfy bed.

  He wasn’t sure what they ate—a rough brown flatbread and some kind of stew with meat and vegetables and, holy cow, actual spices. It was filling and a lot more flavorful than what they’d had in the dungeon. Des and Vin each polished off three bowls, and Lana two. For the first time in days, the space between his shoulder blades didn’t itch, or at least not much. They were still ass-deep in trouble, but he was starting to think that maybe—just maybe—they stood a chance of coming out of it in one piece.

  Lana yawned. It seemed to split her face in half and she shook her head afterward. “Okay, boys, I’m ready for a bath and a nap. Since we have planning to do first, let’s get that over with so we can all pass out in comfort.”

  Though the place resembled a medieval tavern, in other ways it was more like a modern motel. They’d been given keys attached to a tag with the room number on it—at least he assumed the marking was a number. Vin handed Lana one of the keys as they climbed the stairs. “I asked for the far end of the hallway,” Vin said, “though I’d rather not have to go out a third story window if we can help it. They were booked up on the second floor. The good news is they’ll bring food to the rooms if we don’t want to go downstairs again later.”

  “Amen to both.” Lana walked beside Des, though they didn’t touch. Des carried the duffel with the weapons and maps between them. “I was starting to feel like a specimen in a zoo down there. And an uneventful night would be a nice change of pace.”

  Their rooms proved to be across the hall from one another, on the very end, as promised. A rickety-looking fire escape led down from the unglazed window between the doors, with its wooden shutters open to catch the breeze. Des saw each of his companions register that information as well.

  Lana opened the door to their room and both of them surveyed it quickly before stepping inside. Wooden floor. Gaslights. A shuttered window, likely without glass, and an opening that probably led to the bathroom. Two sturdy chairs flanked a small table in the corner opposite what looked about like a queen-sized bed. They moved inside, cautious but not paranoid. He didn’t feel the need to sweep for microphones or cameras.

  Lana disappeared into the other room and returned with a relieved smile. “Real plumbing. Yay. It appears toilets are also a universal concept, though the flush mechanism is a little weird.” She dried her hands on a small square of cloth and wiggled her eyebrows. “There’s even soap and the bathtub is oversized as advertised, although there’s no shower. At this point, I’m not complaining.”

  Des took his turn in the bathroom, returning to the bedroom just as Vin knocked at the door, carrying one of the chairs from his room.

  “Okay, boys.” Lana untied the lacing on the duffel bag and lifted out the box of maps. “Let’s see if we can find a way home. With luck, we’ll get there before our families have torn Detroit to pieces looking for us.”

  “And before Malen kills too many others with his drugs.” Vin took out maps and began to unroll them, stacking them on the table. In each roll was a large map of the world, with smaller, more manageable regional ones attached by something that resembled bobby pins. They started with the world maps. When the edges started to curl, Lana found two mugs and held the other two corners with her hands.

  Des watched her, admiring the grace of her deft, quick movements. He was even getting used to the fact that she was physically stronger than him. Now that he’d seen her throw up after a fight, he was starting to think her vulnerable side was even sexier than her limber but curvy body. Shit. They had to get home before he got even stupider in love with Lana.

  Love? You blithering idiot. He couldn’t believe he’d used that word, even to himself. He was doomed for sure. Best case scenario, he’d lose his job. Worst case, her cousins—who didn’t share her aversion to blood—would rip him to shreds.

  “Okay, here’s where we are now.” Vin spread out another map on top of the pile. Des couldn’t make any sense of the writing, but he did get a concept of terrain—trees looked like trees, blue lines for rivers, and mountains were little points, just like on any map he’d ever seen. Vin pointed to one big circle. “Here’s this village. That X is the portal we blew up.” The X was maybe an inch or two from the circle, right near some hills and trees.

  “What’s that little symbol next to the X?” Lana kept her elbow in place but pointed one finger toward the portal.

  “That tells where the portal leads,” Vin said. “So now we find all the Xs we can and look for the split-circle symbol, which is Earth.” He held out a rolled map marked on the outside with what looked like the Greek letter theta.

  “Not one,” Des said with a sigh. “Why don’t we check the map of Earth and do a cross-check for any symbols that are on both maps?”

  “Right.” Vin used a couple of the guns to spread a rough map of Earth out on the bed. “There’s one in nearly every major city in the western world with an asterisk by it.”

  “Underhill,” Lana suggested. “There are portals between Earth and Underhill all over the place.”

  Vin nodded. “That’s likely. Not many others, though there’s a triangle in Detroit. That’s his symbol for my world, so we know where that one goes.”

  “See if we have a map for Faerie,” Des said. “From there, we know we can get home.”

  “There are no asterisks on the map for this world,” Lana said unhappily. “Or thetas.”

  “So now we have to look for anything that links from here to a world that does link to Earth or Underhill.” Des took off his shoes and weighted the map of Underhill on the bed beside the one of Earth.

  Twenty minutes later, when they were all going cross-eyed, they finished studying all the maps.

  “So we’ve got two possible routes. One through the plane marked by an infinity symbol into Faerie, and one through the square into New York City.” Des summed up their options as he rolled up the extraneous maps and handed them to Lana to put back into the box. He looked up at Vin. “Which of those is best?”

  Vin grimaced. “Neither. Either you two die, or I do.”

  “What?” Lana yelped, but quieted her voice before either of the males could remind her. “You’re fucking kidding. Explain.”

  “No kidding.” Vin tapped the map labeled with a red square. “On this world, there’s a note that the nitrogen concentration in the air is too high for Gravakis. You’d be fine, but my system is much less tolerant of it. Your Earth is about our outer limit.
It’s a bit of a strain to adjust to your atmosphere. On…” he read the heading on the map, “…Makra, the air is lethal to my people within minutes. I wouldn’t even be able to flash us the fifty miles from one portal to another.”

  “Okay, so that one’s out.” Des tapped his finger on another one, with an infinity symbol. “So we take this one to New York. I know people there who can get us home, if I haven’t been blackballed by the League.”

  Lana brightened. “Actually, we could make it even quicker through the Fae portal house, and then we wouldn’t have to worry about your boss. Colin’s parents are the New York guardians. I think they figure they owe us some favors.”

  “That’s right. Great idea.” Des remembered the Fae teen who’d been kidnapped along with his niece. His parents would be more than willing to help Des and Lana get home.

  “But we still have a problem.” Vin sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “What part of ‘I die or you die’ did you people not hear?”

  “Apparently the ‘you die’ part. What’s wrong with this world?” Lana pointed at the map under Des’s hand.

  “Extremely high temperatures.”

  “I can block some of that with magic,” Des said. “Enough to buy us time to make the jump from portal to portal, anyway.”

  “One, I can’t flash you both at the same time,” Vin reminded them. “Two, I’m not talking about a little hot. I’m talking about an average temperature of over two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Can you block out that, especially if you’re separated?”

  “No, damn it.” Des shook his head. “So what do we do?”

  “Obviously,” Lana said, “we spilt up. The two portals on the high-nitrogen world aren’t too far apart. Vin, you can read these maps. How long would it take us to walk this distance?”

  Vin studied the map. “Three days. Maybe less, since you’re both pretty quick. It’s a little colder there, but not much worse than Detroit in November, so you should be fine if we get you some warmer gear before you go.”

  Des nodded. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up, but if it’s our only option, then we don’t have much choice. At least Vin will get back first, and we can send him with letters, letting our families know we’re all right.”

  “And that Brewer is dirty,” Lana added. “Maybe they can get someone looking into that while we’re hiking across a foreign world. One we know absolutely nothing about.”

  “That’s not entirely the case,” Des said. “I’ve met demons from Makra. They’re not overly aggressive—usually out exploring more than causing trouble. They’re humanoid, so they can just about pass for human in our world if they try hard enough. Food and water shouldn’t be a problem there, as their needs are pretty similar to ours.”

  “All right.” Lana bit her lip and looked into his eyes. Her trust was clear in her steady gaze, and Des felt honored. “High road and low road it is. So what we need now is warmer gear and something to write letters on and with. Oh—and currency for this Makra place wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”

  “They’re another crossroads world like this one, used to demons, so most merchants will accept just about any precious-metal coin.” Vin pulled out the pouch Des had watched him pocket from the mage’s house. “This should do for both provisioning and travel expenses.”

  “I can give you the cash from my wallet for New York,” Des said. “And my sister’s phone number. She can direct you to the portal house.” Knowing Elise, she and Aidan would meet the demon there and escort him back to Detroit.

  “Do you have your cell phone?” Lana asked. “I’d give him mine, but I couldn’t exactly carry it to the mine in my fur.”

  “Good idea.” Des pulled his out and handed it to Vin. “The number to call when you get to New York is my sister’s, Elise Sutton, and her husband, Aidan Greene, or Lord Green Oak. They can direct you to the New York Fae portal. Elise is the E on the main screen, Aidan is the oak leaf. Or you can just press this button and say, ‘call Elise.’ I turned the phone off while we were in prison, so the battery should still be good when you turn it back on.”

  “I have my own, but she’s more likely to answer this one, so thanks.” Vin took the phone. “And I’ll flash to Detroit from New York, so I won’t have to deal with the Fae there. Meanwhile, we need to shop. Girl, you’ll freeze on Makra in a tunic. You’ll also want a bedroll. As I recall, the towns are few and far between.”

  “So it’s not naptime,” Lana grumbled. “Fine. Shopping it is.”

  “I thought you loved shopping.” Des couldn’t resist poking her a little. It was fun to watch her bristle.

  She stuck out her tongue. “I like going to the mall and looking through cool stuff. Not picking up essentials while the natives stare and point. Especially when I’d much rather be in that bathtub scrubbing myself. Your magic was fine, but I still won’t really feel clean until I’ve washed with soap and water.”

  “Shops should be open for another few hours,” Vin offered, ignoring the intimate byplay. “We can wait until you’ve had a wash.”

  “Fine,” Des answered for both of them. “We’ll knock on your door in an hour.”

  “Meanwhile, give me the map for Makra. I’ll translate as much as I can, while you two…wash up.” He snatched up the map in question and zipped out the door before Des or Lana could respond.

  “If you really need a nap, I can go with Vin to get provisions,” Des offered at Lana’s back as she bolted to the bathroom and began running water in the tub.

  “I’ll be okay,” she called. Her toga flew out the bathroom door. “But if you wanted to come wash my back, I wouldn’t complain.”

  Des shucked his clothes as he moved, leaving a trail on the way to the bathroom.

  * * *

  As alien markets went, this one was probably pretty normal, or at least Lana thought so. Her hair had dried quickly in the warm, arid heat and if she and Des were both smiling when they went to pick up Vin, at least he hadn’t made any crass comments. That was better than her cousins would have done.

  Instead of sandals, she bought a pair of low, soft boots, whimpering only a little when she was told they were of the finest csbeet skin. Come to think of it, she was really glad she hadn’t asked what the meat was in the stew. Thinking of her big-eyed furry friend at the farmstead might have made her throw it back up, and she didn’t need to be weak from lack of protein when she and Des crossed another alien world, this time on their own.

  Lana also bought leggings, since jeans didn’t seem to be an option, and a fleece-lined tunic. They each picked out hats, gloves and fur cloaks, but would share a heavy blanket and tanned leather pad for sleeping.

  It was strange, knowing she was going to be sleeping with Des for the next few nights. Before they’d fallen through the portal, their encounters had been spontaneous, never planned, hell, barely acknowledged. Up until today, they’d been taking things one day at a time, first in the prison, then in the farmhouse and now the inn. But buying only one bedroll? That was planning. And planning to sleep together was very weird— but she wasn’t about to quibble.

  Giving Des up when they got home would be hard enough. Their situation was still dicey, and they were stuck together for a while. Might as well enjoy the one perk that came along with the risk. She’d deal with the rest later, when it happened. Then she could hole up in her apartment and play heavy metal until her fingers bled or go kick the shit out of the punching bag in George’s basement.

  They added a backpack, a canteen and some dried food to their pile of purchases, along with some parchment and a fountain pen, or close approximation.

  Unable to resist, Lana slid over to a stall next to the pens and picked up a stringed instrument. It had four strings and an oval body like a mandolin, but the neck was long like a guitar’s. She tested it out to get a feel for the notes, then played a quick tune, an old Eagles number she’d learned from her first guitar teacher as a kid.

  “Damn, your woman can play,” Vin said
to Des. A small crowd had gathered around, so Lana played another tune.

  “That she can.” Des smiled proudly, his legs wide and his arms crossed, giving off that “don’t touch my woman” vibe.

  The shop owner beamed as several customers came and picked up the various instruments. He made a gesture at Lana, a strange smile twisting his lips as he spoke.

  “Dude wants you to play some more,” Vin translated.

  “We need to get going,” Des said at the same time.

  Lana held up one finger. The shopkeeper shrugged and went back to his customers, even calling a helper from behind a curtain. By the time Lana was done, they’d sold half a dozen instruments and a small pile of coins had appeared at Lana’s feet.

  With no compunction at all, she swept the coins up as she bowed. She’d busked before, in San Francisco. She wasn’t too proud to play for her supper.

  When she tried to return the instrument to the stall, the owner shooed her away.

  “Keep it.” Vin grinned. “Says you earned it.”

  Lana looked down at it, torn. “We need to travel light.”

  “Like that weighs anything? Keep it.” Des bowed to the shop owner. “Vin, thank the man.”

  Vin did, and so Lana clutched the instrument close as they headed back to the inn. The instrument was a cool souvenir, even if she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone outside their families where it came from.

  Now Des and Lana had to write a letter that would make sure their families took Vin at his word. Lana pondered that as they made their way back to the inn.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said when they were gathered back around the table in Lana and Des’s room, munching some dried fruit and nuts from the market. “When we were little, Greg, George and I had a code. You know our grandfather was borderline abusive, right?”

  Des nodded, while Vin shrugged.

  “Anyway, we had a code word for when we were telling the truth, versus when we were lying because we had to. We kept using it later, when the band played in some pretty shady places. If I added the phrase, ‘cross my heart,’ they’d know I was lying, and frankly, Vin would be in deep shit. If we start the letter with, ‘believe it or not,’ they’ll know I’m telling the truth and wasn’t forced.”