“No. For a little while I thought I might be, because a couple of my drawings caused things to happen to other people. I actually stripped the chemistry teacher of his powers. He had what’s called an admonition—it’s a twelve-line poem that tells one of the Kind, or the Unkind, how to increase his or her powers—and his admonition warned that he would lose his powers if I drew a portrait of him. It turns out that I am an Ambassador: one of a small group of people who help the Kind interact with the rest of the world. In fact, I knew you were coming. Well, not you, but I knew someone was coming to Suburban this year. Someone who was just finding about being one of the Kind. I also fulfilled Tomasi’s admonition by drawing him. Tomasi is Kind, too.”
Bruno didn’t think his eyes could open wider. “He is?”
“Yes. His powers have to do with books. He can read them when they’re closed, and he can see the original text if a book has been translated or changed. He can also travel through books if they’re open.”
“Wow.” Last week the revelations in the library had turned his world upside down. But Lois had led him to believe the Kind were so unusual, so isolated, the two of them might never encounter any others, and Celia had just blown that assumption away. Lois, Celia, Mariette, a teacher, Tomasi . . . Just as he had with Lois, Bruno needed to hear everything a second time, to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. “So you gave him his powers, but you’re not one of the Kind?”
“No. Ambassadors have limited powers that they can only use to help members of the Kind. Anyway”—Celia fixed her most penetrating gaze on Bruno again—“I’m not telling you all this because I thought it would be fun to reveal my deepest secrets to you. You seem to have a talent for navigating. For a while I just thought you had an incredible instinct for it, but now you seem to be taking shortcuts around here that don’t really exist in this dimension. Bruno, I’m pretty sure you’re one of the Kind, too.
“Have you ever had anything happen that you couldn’t explain? I’m not talking about being able to find your old beach cottage five years later. Maybe something like starting out in one place and then finding yourself in another place and not being quite sure how you got there?”
Bruno squirmed again. She had hit so close to home, it was uncanny. He mentally retraced his steps from his back door to the Ebentwine clearing. Lois had reinforced his decision to stay away from it, but now Celia had unknowingly pointed out to him that the shortcut under the stairs here at Suburban was practically the same thing—just without the garden and the strange man named Gardner.
Celia sat across the table from him, waiting while he tried to figure out what to say. It was clear that in the space of ten minutes, her interest in Bruno had become much more intense—not romantic, but in a way that Bruno couldn’t quite define.
Celia had made it clear that no one else knew the truth about Mariette, so Bruno figured Marco and Regine must not be privy to any of the things Celia had just told him. Instead, Celia had joined Bruno on the secret iceberg that drifted far away from the concerns of their friends.
He wanted to tell her everything so badly. But Celia hadn’t mentioned Lois, and Lois hadn’t mentioned Celia—was that for a reason? If there were Unkind as well as Kind, was someone lying to him? He tried to think of how he could play it safe. He wasn’t going to squander this opportunity to bond with Celia, but Lois would have to be kept out of it for the time being.
“That has happened to me,” he told her. “I went to the bottom of the stairwell in the Chancellor Wing, down to the basement, and when I went behind the stairs there was another staircase going up, and it came out in the stairwell of the new wing. It’s like a wormhole or something in the school.”
“That’s fantastic!” Celia said. “I thought so! What did you think when you discovered it?”
“I didn’t know what to think,” Bruno said. “It doesn’t make any sense. But it’s happened another time, too.” And he described the Ebentwine clearing, barely remembering to stop himself before he blurted out that the other place in which he had found himself—twice—was under her window in her backyard. “I wound up in another neighborhood, miles away.”
“Ebentwine? I’ve never heard of it. But it sounds amazing.” Celia’s eyes shone with excitement for him. “I can help you make sense of all this. You have to meet Tomasi. You have to come to Diaboliques.”
“Really?” Bruno couldn’t help being curious about Tomasi. And Marco had already invited him to Diaboliques.
“There’s a woman there you have to meet, another Ambassador. From what I understand, someone helps you get started, and then the whole world around you gives you instructions about the Kind. If Tomasi can’t do it, Cassandra will know who can. Maybe she can do it, actually. Maybe I did just now, but I’m not sure, and I’d hate it if I screwed something up for you.” Celia looked caringly at him, and Bruno realized he must have looked overwhelmed again. “Don’t be scared. I know it’s a lot to take in, but amazing things are going to happen to you. So, tell your brother I said you have to come to Diaboliques on Friday. I’ll tell him myself.”
“What if he asks why?”
“You’ve been listening to a lot of the music. I know you like Cranes now.”
“And My Bloody Valentine,” Bruno added.
“I think you know more of the music than you let on.” Celia smiled. “It’s about time for you to see what Diaboliques is like anyway. You should go just for the music. And now you have other reasons, too.”
“So the others don’t know about Tomasi being Kind?”
“No. They see him at Diaboliques, sometimes other places, but that’s it. You have to keep that secret. All the secrets. About Tomasi, about Mariette, about me.”
“I will.”
“But I’m glad we figured this out,” Celia said, and her eyes shone. “You’re one of the Kind.”
“I’m one of the Kind,” Bruno repeated.
“I have to tell you some other things, though. Because even though I took care of the chemistry teacher, there might be someone else we have to be concerned about,” Celia said. “Last year when I fought off Mr. Sumeletso—the teacher—there was someone else watching us. Mr. Sumeletso knew who it was, but he wouldn’t tell me. That other Unkind was definitely powerful, though. I didn’t get a good look at him, but I’m pretty sure he—or she—was part of the plot to kill Mariette. All summer I was scared he would come after me for vanquishing Mr. Sumeletso, but nothing’s happened. If that Unkind person hasn’t come back by now, there’s probably nothing to worry about. I just wanted you to know everything, just in case. I’ve probably told you too much at once. I’m sorry!”
“It’s all right.” Bruno had no idea how he was going to concentrate in geography class that afternoon.
BRUNO WATCHED LOIS TRY to process everything he had just told her about what had gone on last year with Mariette and the chemistry teacher.
“How did you find out about this?” Lois was gravely serious.
“I . . . I can’t tell you. You asked me to keep your secrets, and so did this other person. I didn’t tell her about you, so I don’t feel right telling you about her.”
Lois thought. “It’s Celia, isn’t it?”
“What? How’d you know?”
Lois smiled. “I saw her writing in her sketchbook, and then other writing appeared on the page. She definitely has some kind of powers.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about that?”
“Honestly? I think Celia is Unkind, and I was trying to figure out how to tell you because I know you like her.”
“She’s not Unkind. She’s an Ambassador.” Bruno paused at Lois’s alarmed look. “One of her drawings gave Tomasi his powers last year, and she made a drawing to defeat the Unkind teacher who killed Mariette.”
“What makes you think she’s an Ambassador?”
“She told me.”
“Ambassadors are just as dangerous as the Unkind. Maybe more so. They trick the Kind into trusting them. You have to stay away from her!”<
br />
“What? She never said—”
“I’m surprised there’s an Ambassador here; they’re even rarer than we are. They aren’t citizens because they have powers, but their power is completely dependent on the power of a Kind. They try to convince us they keep us strong, and they do little things to win our confidence. Often they serve as harbingers, providing important information to us at crucial times. But in the end, they drain our power away from us, and put us in danger.”
Bruno had no idea what to say. “Have you ever . . . Did an Ambassador do that to you?”
“I’ve never met one, and I’ve never met anyone who’s met one.”
“Then how do you know? What makes you sure?”
“I’m not the most experienced with being Kind,” Lois said gently. “But I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. You hear things. You learn things. There are so many stories—about admonitions, about the Ebentwine. But the one story everyone knows is that Ambassadors are like vampires—you certainly don’t want to meet one, much less spend time with one. She just told you she was an Ambassador?”
“Yeah.”
“What about her friends?”
“They’re citizens. Marco and Regine don’t know anything, and they’re her closest friends, so I don’t think she’s told anyone.”
“So, Celia told you Mariette was Kind, and killed by an Unkind? You have to be careful—she may not be telling you the truth. What does everyone else think happened?”
“They all think she drowned in the swimming pool. And now her ghost haunts the science wing. I’ve seen her. She has curly red hair, and apparently she’s been making all kinds of trouble by passing notes to people, telling them where to catch their boyfriends or girlfriends cheating on them. And people say she sucks the motivation out of you, or that you get really depressed if you meet her. Several people have had to go on medication for it.”
“All of this would just be so crazy, if it weren’t really happening . . .” Lois smiled weakly. “I know you like Celia. But are you sure she’s not the one who caused Mariette to drown? That sounds like something an Ambassador would do. She could be killing you with kindness so she can take advantage of you. I’m not trying to be mean! I’m just trying to help you protect yourself. Whether she’s Unkind or an Ambassador, you have to stay away from Celia. You cannot trust her.”
“I understand.” Bruno got up. “I’ll go shelve books.”
“Okay. I know it’s a lot, but you’re doing well. You are.” She watched him walk out of her office.
6
we came to dance
“DOES SYLVIO FEEL LIKE you’re horning in on his friends?” Bruno’s dad asked him after dinner on Friday night.
“I think so. But we met them at the same time, and I hang out with them as much as he does. Regine’s the only one he spends more time with.”
Mr. Perilunas smiled. “I’m not saying you’re doing anything wrong. Just try to be sensitive to how he feels, okay? So you want to go to Diaboliques? It’s a great name, and I actually thought Hermetica was a pretty great name.”
“Marco invited me. He thinks I’ll like it.”
“Then it’s time for me to say the same thing to you that I said to Sylvio when he asked to go to Hermetica the first time.” His father pointed to the armchairs in his office, and they sat down. “Everybody thinks if I’m a minister, I must be really strict with my children, but you know that’s not true.” Bruno nodded. “Sophia is off in Argentina taking care of herself, and Sylvio has a collection of music, some of which might not be sacrilegious but certainly flirts with it. It’s not because I don’t care, or I don’t hope you grow up with my faith and my values. It’s because your mother and I are fortunate enough to have three children who are all intelligent enough to understand the choices available to them. I might not always agree with each of your choices, but I have never seen any of you tilt so far into bad choices that I thought I had to intervene.
“What I said to Sylvio the first night he went to Hermetica was that people are defined not by the things they don’t do but by the things they do. Parents and religions are prone to come out more strongly for the things we shouldn’t do than the things we should, and while we do well to encourage people to avoid bad acts, we do even better to remember to encourage people in their good acts.
“What I mean is this: I want you to go, because I want you to experience the world, and the world is a never-ending series of choices I can’t make for you. I’m not doing you any favors by keeping you from the world out there. That’s just preventing you from becoming your own person by figuring out what your values are.
“Probably Diaboliques is far more harmless than it sounds—a little fury, signifying nothing. Maybe you’ll be presented with some choices tonight, the kind that make parents and religions anxious. If you are, I have a feeling you’ll do just fine. I’d love to hear about it when you get back.”
RIDING WITH SYLVIO through the dark streets, following Regine’s car to Diaboliques, Bruno was nervous. It didn’t help that Sylvio was playing some menacing industrial song with a man growling the words assimilate and annihilate over and over.
“Why are we taking two cars now?” Bruno asked. “Is anyone going to see us?”
“That’s not the point. I mean, sure, it’s a great effect when people see it, but it’s a lot more than that. When Regine explained it to me, it made complete sense. If you do something the easiest way, the most uncomplicated way, the normal way, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes dull, something taken for granted. We do this for ourselves more than anyone else. These things remind us we’re not like everyone else. We see the world differently. C’mon, it’s like a movie!”
Bruno wasn’t convinced, but it didn’t really concern him. His nerves were up because he was going somewhere unfamiliar. And he was going to meet Tomasi.
If Tomasi were simply the other guy who shared this bizarre and fantastic secret life Bruno had just discovered, Bruno would have been desperate to meet him. Until recently, Bruno had resented Tomasi for being Celia’s boyfriend, but now he wondered why Tomasi would risk that, if what Lois had said about Ambassadors was true. Everything was complicated.
At the club Celia climbed out of Regine’s car, and Bruno felt that familiar rush: her snowy skin, her silky dark hair, her slender arms and breathtaking height. Her black tulip skirt and sheer black blouse worn over a camisole—Celia was a miracle every time she appeared. She might be dangerous, a wolf in a beautiful girl’s clothing, but it was hopeless. Bruno had no chance of corralling his emotions. Things were just going to have to play out as they would—tonight and forever.
By a door in a brick wall they approached a hulking man, a cross between a biker and a crypt keeper, who turned out to be named Rufus. Bruno heard him call, “Twinkle, twinkle!” and the rest of them respond, “Release the bats!” It was only to be expected that Sylvio wouldn’t have told him about this ritual in advance. Then they entered Diaboliques, up stairs and along corridors, while music thumped at them through the walls, as though the building itself had a heartbeat.
They entered a dark mezzanine that overlooked a dance floor flooded by searchlights, and he stared down over the balcony at the black-light circuslike performance going on below. They climbed more stairs and navigated a warren of halls and doors, while Bruno worked to keep his bearings. Finally they reached a velvet-lined inner sanctum, the third and smallest dance floor, presided over by a DJ named Patrick, who kissed Celia, Marco, and Regine hello, nodded at Sylvio, and shook Bruno’s hand.
They took their places on one side of the dance floor, and Bruno remembered his brother’s comment that all of this was somehow like a movie. A woman who looked like a cross between a vintage pinup girl and a dominatrix eyed him, and he wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or concerned for his safety. A muscular man in a tight black shirt was dancing, metal goggles worn over his hair, dark shadow skillfully applied around his eyes. A host of other beautiful people st
ood around or sat on the velvet banquettes while the light from the wall sconces sparkled in the crystal beads that hung from them.
To Bruno, Diaboliques was the perfect frame for Celia. Perhaps it had to do with the darkness, but Celia almost glowed, and even in the light the rest of the exotic people around her somehow weren’t as bright.
“Patrick does this every time!” Marco said when a new song began. “The moment we arrive, he puts on something he knows we love. Do you know this one?”
“No,” Bruno said honestly.
“Christian Death, ‘Church of No Return.’ It’s a classic!” Marco went out to join Regine and Sylvio on the dance floor.
From across the room a tall boy came over to Celia. He wore basic black. His short hair squared off his strong jaw. She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him as a movie star should—with feeling and restraint at the same time. It was a kiss that suggested Celia saved more private kisses for when they were alone, and Bruno felt acid rise in his chest and stop in his throat. This was Tomasi.
Soon enough, it had to happen. Celia bent close to Bruno’s ear so he could hear her over the music. “Bruno, this is Tomasi.” Tomasi’s steely eyes bored into Bruno, but he extended his hand.
“Celia says you’re one of the Kind.”
“I guess I am,” Bruno said.
“You are. I can sense it in you. She says you’ve found a hidden passageway to get around Suburban.” Bruno nodded. “It’s a big school?” Bruno nodded again. “And you have a crush on Celia?”
“What?” Bruno looked up at him, startled.
“It’s okay. Marco told me.” Tomasi’s mouth moved in a shape that Bruno thought might have been a smile. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” Bruno realized that Tomasi, who was taller, stronger, and older, didn’t regard him as a threat in the least. Though it stung, it made sense.
He was glad Celia hadn’t been listening. Now she leaned in. “Does someone have to get him started?” she asked Tomasi. “The way your teacher did for you?”
Pull Down the Night (The Suburban Strange) Page 9
