Someplace to Be Flying

by Charles de Lint

  Paris waved them through ahead of her and then she and Rory were being introduced to her friends.

  Everybody only seemed to have one name. There was the grizzled old man simply called Moth, who owned the place. He merely nodded at them when he was introduced, regarding both Rory and especially herself with a suspicious eye. Much friendlier was an older woman named Anita in grease-stained overalls, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Kerry noted the same recognition in her face as there'd been in Paris's when they first met, but it wasn't followed by anger.

  "I can't believe how alike the two of you are," she said after wiping her palms on her jeans and then shaking hands.

  Kerry couldn't suppress a shiver. After having finally convinced herself that Katy was only a figment of her imagination, it was awful to discover that her twin actually did exist. What made it even more distressing was that she herself was responsible for Katy's current disappearance. She should have welcomed Katy when her twin had appeared in the new apartment, instead of turning her away. Having come to understand that she'd been lied to about so many things in Baumert, why should she have believed them when it came to Katy? Why couldn't she have accepted what her own senses were telling her?

  When she put it to herself like that, Kerry thought she deserved Moth's animosity. She didn't much like herself right now.

  She forced herself to concentrate as Paris's introductions continued. Anita had been working on a car with a man named Benny, who looked more like an accountant than a mechanic so far as Kerry was concerned. He gave Kerry a shy nod, then immediately returned back under the hood of the car.

  Last was Paris's brother, Terry, a very good-looking Oriental man about Kerry's age with none of his sister's tattooing—or at least none that Kerry could see. He didn't get up from his lawn chair, but he had a ready smile and flashed her a peace sign.

  It didn't take Kerry long to see what Paris had meant about her family. While it was obvious that none of the people sitting around in the junkyard were blood-related, there was still far more of a connection among them than she'd ever felt with her own parents.

  "So you're saying the crow girls are vouching for her?" Moth asked after Paris had finished explaining what had brought Kerry to Jack's bus.

  "You mean they're real?" Terry said, sitting up a little straighter. "I always thought they were just something out of one of Jack's stories."

  "We only know them from the stories," Paris explained. "They must be so awesome."

  "Actually, they act like little kids," Kerry said.

  But then she reconsidered, remembering the touch of Maida's fingers on her brow, how they'd pulled the anxiety attack right out of her to help her face her problems the way normal people did. She made herself focus on the flicker of that candle deep inside. While it didn't ease the guilt she was feeling over having chased Katy away, it did make it a little easier for her to deal with all these strangers.

  "But they're pretty magical, I guess," she added.

  Terry shook his head. "You guess? Man, that's like saying you just met Elvis and he's not so bad a singer for a guy who's supposed to be dead."

  That woke smiles from everyone except for Moth. He wasn't ready to be sidetracked.

  "So you've only been here a few days, is that what you're saying?" he asked.

  Kerry nodded.

  "Which is when all the trouble began."

  Kerry gave him a nervous look. This man didn't like her at all.

  "Oh, for God's sake, Moth," Anita said to him. "Will you stop glaring at her like that. None of this seems to be her fault."

  "She says."

  Anita gave Kerry a reassuring look. "Don't mind him. There's been a lot of strange things going on for the past week or so and everybody's a little on edge." She turned back to Moth. "Give me that phone of yours. I want to see if I can catch up with Hank."

  "Who's Hank?" Kerry asked.

  "He works for this lawyer named Marty Caine," Rory said, speaking up for the first time. "And apparently here, as well."

  "How do you know that?" Moth asked.

  "I worked with him in Caine's office."

  Moth nodded. "I remember you now. You're a journalist, right?"

  "Some of the time."

  "What do you do the rest of the time?"

  "I'm a jeweler."

  That made Paris perk up. "No kidding? What do you work in?"

  "Gold, silver—when I can afford it. Whatever comes to hand when I can't."

  "I'd like to see some of your stuff."

  "Drop by the apartment sometime."

  The small talk was driving Kerry crazy. They should be out looking for Katy. Instead she felt like they were sitting around in some sort of bizarre combination of a kangaroo court and an afternoon social, junkyard style.

  "Okay," Anita said. She had walked a few feet away from where they were all sitting in front of Moth's trailer to make her call. Rejoining them, she tossed the phone back to Moth and sat down once more. "He was still in Caine's office, but I was able to leave a message."

  "Hank'll be able to straighten everything out," Paris said, obviously confident in his abilities.

  But when Hank did arrive, he was no more able to help her than the others had been. Jack was still missing, Katy was still missing, and Hank's animosity level lay somewhere between Moth's and Anita's, a slow distrustful burn, which only added to Kerry's feelings of guilt and left her no closer to making some sense out of this confusion. Adding yet more to her discomfort was that Hank seemed to be having his own problems.

  Kerry supposed he was nice enough and might have liked him under other circumstances. But in this place, he was a little scary, a little too tough-looking for her to feel entirely at ease with him. When he started talking to Moth about some man named Eddie putting the arm on the D.A.'s office, and how Moth was going to have to have a talk with him, she began to feel as though she'd stumbled onto the set of some gangster movie.

  Why are they talking about this kind of thing in front of us? she wondered.

  The same thought must have occurred to Hank, for he suddenly broke off and an uncomfortable silence settled over them all. Finally Kerry stood up. There was no point in her staying here. While Paris and Anita had been friendly enough, it was obvious that she and Rory weren't really welcome. Hank had been surprised to find Rory here, but it hadn't felt like a nice surprise—more an intrusive one.

  "We should be going," she began.

  She was interrupted by the arrival of another car, which pulled up beside the black VW bug Hank had arrived in.

  "Hey, Lily!"

  Rory and Hank called out a greeting at the same time to the woman as she stepped out of her car. Then they looked at each other. "We go back a long way," Rory said. Hank only nodded.

  "I was over at the bus looking for Jack," Lily started to say to Hank, "but then I saw your car, so I thought I'd …" Her voice trailed off when she noticed Rory sitting beside the lawn chair Kerry had so recently vacated. "Rory?" she added, obviously puzzled to see him here.

  There were more introductions to be made then and Kerry tuned them out. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to listen to what was being discussed, but the conversation got far too confusing when Lily started talking about magic chalices and cuckoos. What Kerry found even more confusing was how everyone seemed to take what she was saying so seriously. Back in Baumert this kind of talk would have earned Lily a visit to the seclusion room for acting out.

  Kerry moved a few steps closer to where Paris was sitting and touched the tattooed woman's shoulder.

  "Do you think you could show me that car where Katy was living?" she asked.

  "No problem," Paris said. "But she wasn't actually living there. I don't think anyone knew where she was living. That was just the last place Anita and Moth saw her."

  "I'd still like to see it." Paris nodded. "Sure. I understand."

  Kerry was going to tell Rory where she was going, but since he seemed to be as caught up with Li
ly's strange story as everybody else, she didn't think he'd even notice the few minutes she'd be gone.

  "Come on," Paris said.

  She led the way down a narrow lane with fifteen-foot-high stacks of rusting vehicles and other metal trash on either side until they reached a bright yellow Volvo that was in marginally better shape than most of its neighbors. It still wasn't going to run, not with its engine dropped on the dirt out of the rusted front end, but it had most of its windows and the seats inside were all in one piece.

  "So do you have a tattoo like Katy does?" Paris asked.

  "I didn't even know she had one."

  "Yeah, it's this cool Japanese ideograph on her upper arm. I found out it means 'little sister.' "

  The idea that Katy would have a symbol of their relationship permanently etched into her skin made the ache in Kerry's heart hurt more.

  "No," she said softly. "I don't have one."

  "I guess you two aren't much alike except in looks."

  Kerry nodded. "Do your … do all those tattoos mean something?"

  "They're like a diary for me—one that no one can take away."

  Kerry had known girls in Baumert who'd cut themselves, or put out cigarettes on their arms and legs, for much the same reason. They could tell stories about each one. It had struck her as terribly sad and she felt the same way about Paris's tattoos. There was such a darkness to the images that they couldn't be to remind her of happy times.

  "What do you do when you run out of room?" she found herself asking.

  "I guess that's when I die," Paris said. "I'm joking," she added quickly when she caught Kerry's shocked expression. "I don't think I'm ever going to run out of room—not anymore. These represent the high—or maybe I should say the low—points in my life. I'm on a lot more even keel these days and don't really feel the urge or need to add to the story anymore." A pensive look touched her features. "Though I guess that could change."

  Kerry put a hand on one of the tattooed arms. "Don't let it," she said.

  That was what the patients, at least those who were with it enough to hold up their end of a conversation, told each other in Baumert. It usually didn't help, but it was always worth saying.

  "I'm working on that," Paris said. "One day at a time."

  Kerry nodded. She put her hands in her pockets.

  "Look," Paris said. "Do you want to head back? I'd like to hear more about these cuckoos and everything."

  "Would it be okay if I stayed a little while longer?"

  Paris smiled. "Hey, stay all day if you like. Just don't go climbing around in the stacks. Those wrecks may look like they're solidly stacked, but I've seen them come down a time or two."

  "I was only going to look in the car where you said Katy was sleeping."

  Paris gave her an understanding look.

  "Don't worry," she said. "We'll find her."

  You don't know that, Kerry thought, but she took comfort in being told all the same.

  She waited until Paris had started walking back toward the others before she returned her attention to the car. Poor Katy. Reduced to sleeping in a junked car when she could have been sharing the futon back in the apartment on Stanton Street. Of course that hadn't exactly been Katy's choice.

  She stepped closer to the car and trailed her hand along the hood.

  "I guess saying I'm sorry wouldn't mean a whole lot at this point," she said. "You probably can't hear me. Maybe you don't even want to hear me and I wouldn't blame you."

  Bending down, she looked inside the car. There was a blanket lying on the backseat. She could imagine Katy sitting in there, the blanket wrapped around her against the cold. It was unseasonably warm today, but she remembered it had been cool last night. She couldn't imagine not having a home or anyplace at all to go except for an old abandoned car in some junkyard.

  The tears she'd been keeping in check since first meeting Paris filled her eyes now, making it hard to see. She fumbled with the door handle. Finally getting the door open, she crawled into the back of the car where Katy had been sleeping and held the blanket against her chest. She imagined she could smell her sister in its musty folds and the tears came in earnest then, her shoulders shaking as she cried into the blanket.

  Once she started she didn't think she'd ever be able to stop. She wept for Katy, but she wept for herself as well, for all that they might have shared but never had.

  "I … I'd give anything for … for one more … chance," she managed to get out between sobs.

  5.

  "Am I missing something here?" Hank said.

  Lily gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, it sounds to me like we've got what we wanted. We mind our own business and the Couteaus—cuckoos, whatever they are—are going to leave us alone."

  "You didn't see that chalice," Lily told him. "I can't let them keep it and use it for something horrible—not in good conscience."

  Moth shifted in his lawn chair, catching their attention.

  "I don't know from cuckoos," he said, "but I know too much about the Couteaus as it is. These are seriously dangerous people. If they say stay out of their business, it's good advice."

  "But—"

  "Besides, you're coming out ahead. You say Eddie put ten grand in your bank account?"

  "I don't know who put it in there."

  "Well, if your bank says it came from the Newford Investment Group, that's the same as saying Eddie Prio put it in there. The NIG's the legit side of his business."

  "I don't care where it comes from," Lily said. "I don't want his money."

  "She's got a point," Hank said. "I wouldn't accept it either. Eddie's not the kind of guy I'd want to be owing any favors to."

  Moth shook his head. "That's not what this is about. It's just Eddie being generous. You had a problem with the Couteaus and he couldn't fix it, so he did the next best thing."

  "It's causing more headaches than fixing anything," Hank said.

  "The girl's out of jail, isn't she? The charges are all dropped?"

  "Yeah, and Marty's seriously pissed off."

  "Why? Because he didn't get to make the deal?"

  "You know it's not like that."

  "Right." Moth turned to Lily. "And as for the ten grand. That seems to me to be a pretty fair compensation for having your place trashed and the trouble you've been put through."

  "I'm missing something here," Lily said. "Is he partners with them or something?"

  "Not likely."

  "Then what's he get out of all of this?"

  "He's doing it," Anita put in, "because he couldn't fix it. It's that Italian machismo of his showing through. Friend comes to him for a favor and it looks bad when he can't help out."

  "I don't want a gangster for a friend," Lily said.

  Moth shook his head. "No one's asking you to—"

  "And I'm not going to stand by doing nothing about that chalice either," Lily added, before Moth could finish. She settled her gaze on Hank. "It's not something I can walk away from."

  "But it's just a piece of crystal," Hank said.

  "No," she told him. "I don't know what it is, but it's a lot more than that."

  "It's not our business. Let them sort it out."

  "But it is my business. I was carrying it around for all that time. I'm the one who handed it over and that makes me feel responsible for them having it. So I'm going back to Jack's bus and if he's still not there, then I'll have to see what I can do on my own."

  "Lily," Hank said. "Be reasonable. Forget the danger for a minute and think about what you're saying. Where would you even begin to start looking?"

  "I don't know. I just know I have to give it a try. And I'm sending that money back to your friend, as well."

  "That's not such a good idea," Moth said. "You don't want—"

  "You asked for the favor," Lily told him. "I didn't. He's your friend, so it's your problem."

  "Lily," Hank began again.

  He stopped when she held up her
hand, palm out.

  "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said, "so let's just stop it now before we start saying things we might regret later. I'm not blaming you for wanting to keep out of this. I know you have your own problems. You still have to find this missing girl and you've got the safety of your other friends to consider. Well, I don't have either of those worries."

  She stood up and looked around.

  "Nice to have met you all," she said. "I'm sorry you had to listen in on all of this." Her gaze rested finally on Rory. "Do you need a ride back?"

  He glanced down between the rows of junked cars where Kerry had gone earlier.

  "I have to wait for Kerry," he said. "But call me at the house later. Maybe Chloë'll have some ideas."

  "Who's Chloë?" Moth asked.

  "She lives with my landlord. They're the ones who lost the chalice in the first place."

  "When it looked like a tin?"

  Rory nodded.

  "Is it just me," Moth said, "or does anybody else feel like we should be calling in a reporter from the National Enquirer to help us make sense of all of this? It's like we're stuck in one of Jack's stories."

  "What makes you think we're not?" Anita asked.

  No one had an answer for that.

  "I'll call you," Lily told Rory. She turned to Hank.

  "Look, Lily," he said.

  She put a finger to her lips. When he fell silent, she kissed the pads of her fingers and blew the kiss to him.

  "I'm sorry things turned out this way," she said, then she walked back to her car.

  Hank stood up, but he didn't follow. He watched Lily start up her car, back it onto Gracie Street, then pull away.

  "I should go collect Kerry," Rory said.

  Paris got up with him and offered to show him the way.

  "What do I do?" Hank said. "If the Couteaus are everything Eddie says they are—"

  "No question there," Moth put in. "If they make Eddie nervous, you know they're serious."

  "Then how can I put all of you in danger? Because you know that's how it works. They're not just going to come after me if I start messing with them—they're going to want a piece of everything and everybody I care about."