“Aw, thanks!” he seemed to take it as a compliment. She wasn’t sure if she meant it as one, but let it go. “Me neither. Evelyn Calliope, and the Turret House—and now I’m inside! I’m actually inside the place! I got an actual invite! Inside! I mean, I’m just here to pick up my buddy, and it looks like this elevator only goes to this one floor, with this one random hallway, but I’m inside!”
“Checking the place out already, huh?” She smiled despite herself. Something about this kid with the messy orange hair and smiling, open face made her heart stop hammering, even if he’d been the one to knock her off-balance to begin with.
“I mean, wouldn’t you?”
“You got me there. So how’d you score an invite again? I don’t mean that the way it sounds,” she said quickly, but it didn’t appear he’d taken the least offense. “It’s just that I don’t even think I can come and go as I please. Or Evelyn.”
“Oh—like I said, I’m here to pick up Zilch.”
“Zil…”
“Yesterday, they came outside, said hi to everybody? They’re really the one here on business or whatever, so I guess it’s not me who got invited, I’m just their ride. Which is fine! Still gets me in. They actually get to see what’s going on, though, and they’re still not talking.”
Danae wasn’t surprised to hear that. She remembered the tall, cloaked figure with the hidden face and the way they’d stalked past her in complete silence. If that was ‘saying hi,’ she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear them speak at all.
“So, is the Turret House anything like you were expecting?” She asked, remembering the variety of theories he’d fired off on the way here. “Seen any… what was it, ghosts?”
“Nah,” he shook his head, smile dropping off his face. “Just a bunch of locked doors. I mean, there might be cool stuff behind them, but if you can’t get past ‘em… elevator’s the most exciting thing, really.”
“Sorry,” she said noncommittally, mind still on the barrette and its eventual shapeless disappointment.
“Ah, it’s fine! I’m just bored. But in Parole that’s a lot better than most things you could be! How are you?”
“Hm?” Danae looked over, surprised, and then a little guilty for only half-listening. She knew full well that most people didn’t actually expect or want an answer to the question he’d just asked, but coming from him it sounded genuine. And, maybe it was just the fatigue talking, but she wanted to tell him. “I’m… frustrated, See, I, uh—make things. But not today. Can’t make anything turn out right.”
“Aww, I’m sorry!” Finn said sincerely, an even rarer response than the question itself. “That has to suck.”
“Guess I just don’t like feeling useless,” she mumbled.
“You’re not useless!” He said it fervently and with full conviction. Then there came the far-off sound of something exploding, and the elevator shuddered. Danae gasped and grabbed at the padded wall, but the kid seemed completely unfazed.
“What was that?!” her wide eyes darted around the tiny cubicle. She checked the wall for an emergency call button, but there wasn’t one. In this house, she wasn’t surprised.
“Nothing to worry about…” Now it was Finn’s turn to mumble as he looked at the floor, and she could swear his ears were turning a pink tinge. “It won’t happen again.”
“Wait. That was you?”
“Don’t worry, it’s fine! We’re fine, everything’s cool. I got it under control.”
She kept her mouth shut. In Parole, you didn’t mention the special things you could do in polite conversation. Side effects of Chrysedrine were personal, private. You didn’t ask why someone took the drug, what horrible disease or injury they wanted to fix. And you didn’t ask what they could do after they took it. Some people could bring inanimate objects to life, but most people didn’t get powers as useful (or invisible) as Danae’s. Wonderland had something different for everybody, and sometimes the surprises weren’t very nice.
And Danae really couldn’t wait to get out of this elevator.
“So, what are you trying to make?” Finn asked after a few seconds, sounding visibly relieved she hadn’t inquired any further.
“I don’t know. Anything that could help us.”
“Maybe you have to know what you’re making before you can make it.”
“That’s the problem, I know exactly what I want—I just can’t get to it.”
“Hmm. Can I help?”
“What?”
“Maybe I can get the thing you want!”
She looked up. “Hey. You got a car, that taxi. And you can actually leave and get back in. If I give you an address, can you go there and bring something back for me?”
“Sure! Usually I bring people from place to place, but stuff is fine too!”
“Great.” Danae smiled. “You could actually be a big help. I need you to go to our house, and bring back some essentials… toothbrushes, clothes, some of Jack’s toys, stuff like that. Uhh, let me think…” She chewed the inside of her cheek and gave herself a once-over. She glanced at the unwashed clothes she was wearing—still burnt and stained from her work yesterday—down to her shoes. “Clean clothes would be just great.”
“Got it! Anything else?”
“Okay, I have a bunch of works in progress. Upstairs workshop, you’ll see three suits of what looks like body armor—grab those, very important. And…” She paused, bit her lip. “In the hallway, you’ll find what looks like a dead dog.”
“A dead dog?” Finn looked like he might cry. There came the sound of a distant rumbling like far-off thunder, or a distant detonation. “Oh no…”
“But he’s not dead really, he’s just broken!” Danae hurried to reassure him. Strangely, the noise decreased as well. “He’s mechanical, all metal and gears. I’d really appreciate if you could collect as much as you can and bring Toto-Dandy back here, so I can fix him.”
“Will do—wait, what was that last part?”
“What part?”
“What you just said. Toto-Something.”
“Dandy. Just bring back as much as you can, okay? If you can’t find all the pieces, that’s fine, I’m sure I can find replacement parts somewhere around here.”
“Okay, got it!” He nodded firmly as if imprinting the request in his brain, but quickly returned to the subject that had caught his attention like a shiny metal bit. “Why’d you call him that?”
“Oh…” Danae hesitated, then actually giggled, looking around ten years younger when she smiled. “Rose’s favorite movie is The Wizard of Oz, so she wanted to name our first dog Toto. But Jack wanted to call him Dandy, after me. When he was really little and learning everybody’s name, he couldn’t say ‘Mama Danae’… so he called me Mama-Dandy. He still calls me that sometimes.”
“That’s so cute,” Finn said, voice quiet but rising in pitch. “Oh my gosh. I love it. That’s amazing.” He made himself take a breath; nothing rumbled outside but she was listening for it now. “Parole’s so scary so much of the time so… I dunno, it just makes me happy when people have… good things.”
“Well, Jack and Rose are around here somewhere, and Toto-Dandy will be soon, hopefully. You can tell them yourself.” The thought made her smile, but she couldn’t stop and fully enjoy it just yet. “One last thing, if you run into Rose or Evelyn before you go, ask them if they need anything, okay? I know I’m forgetting stuff. Are you coming back here? Is a second trip okay if we forget things? I…” she scowled. “I’m just realizing I don’t know how long we’re going to be here.”
“Yeah, I’ll be back! I know Zilch is gonna need to come back up here for at least, like, I dunno, a couple more times to get whatever it is they’re doing done.”
“Huh.” Danae considered for a moment. “Are they meeting with Liam Turret?”
“Nope, I know that much. Zilch doesn’t like him at all. I don’t think he’s very nice either.”
“Well, that’s something we have in common.”
“
Aw, that’s great! You’d probably be good friends, now that I think about it! I should introduce you guys whenever you’re both free.”
“Uh-huh,” Danae imagined the dark specter silently walking the Turret House’s long corridors. Then she imagined the elevator doors opening, and felt better.
“Cool! So I’ll grab your stuff, and me and Zilch will be back later tonight, get everybody together, we can all hang! Well,” he hesitated. “Actually, they’re not really big on like, parties and stuff. But they can at least say hi to everyone! I think they know that guy Regan from somewhere already. Ahh, this is exciting!”
“Yeah,” she said slowly, wondering about a theory and listening hard for far-off rumbles. “Try not to get too excited. Remember, you have no idea where we are, you don’t know us. You’re not a huge Evelyn Calliope fan in particular, and…” She trailed off, remembering yesterday’s impromptu autograph session. “Incognito, remember?”
“Right. Gotcha. I will keep everything very, very quiet.”
“Thank you. That’s all I ask. That, and all the other things I just asked you for—so thank you again.”
As Danae fervently hoped Finn wasn’t overestimating his own capabilities, the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open. They stepped out, and nearly crashed right into Regan as he half-walked, half-stumbled by. He jerked away as they popped out at him, slamming back-first into the opposite wall. He was panting and shaking as if he’d just been running for his life, and his eyes darted around in a frenzy. There was a distinct blue and purple bruise around his frill, which rose and fell with his fast, irregular breathing.
“Hey. Hey, you okay?” Danae peered at him. “You need some—”
“No. Nothing. I’m fine.” Regan waved her off, but he stayed leaning heavily against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
“You really don’t look fine.” Finn asked. “What happened? Can we—”
“I’m fine.” The narrow yellow glare he shot up at them warned them away as clearly as bared teeth or claws, but he didn’t move away either. Danae imagined that if he tried he might fall right over and sprawl across the floor.
“Okay. Um, I should go find Zilch and head out,” Finn said, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another. “This place is so big and there are so many locked doors, I can never find them—or anything, really.”
“Hans’s room,” Regan said faintly, and they both looked back over at him. He said nothing more and didn’t look up at either of them, now leaning back against the wall in a position that suggested less panic and more casualness, but the attempt fell flat when he stifled a cough. “I mean, upstairs.”
“Okay. Feel better,” Finn waved as the doors slid shut, eyes still on Regan. The floor vibrated faintly, and it wasn’t because of the elevator motor. “I’ll have your delivery tonight, Danae!”
“Thanks, Finn,” she said without looking away from Regan, or the way he folded his arms across his chest, bowing his head slightly, and very deliberately made himself breathe, slow and regular. As soon as they were alone, she stepped closer very slowly to get a better look at his frill. “That’s a bruise around your neck. Who did this?”
“No one. It’s nothing.”
“Bull. It was that Zilch, wasn’t it? Knew they were bad news. They’ve got height, but I can take ‘em. Absolutely.”
“No!” Regan looked up quickly, almost hurting his own throat with how fervently he answered. “I mean no. It wasn’t them. Without them it would’ve been a lot worse.”
“What would’ve been worse? Who was—wait, Liam? Oh man, he had to give me a reason, didn’t he? Wouldn’t have pegged him for the strangling type, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by anything he does by—”
“No, it wasn’t…” he shut his eyes, stammering over several wrong words and false starts—then blurted it right out. “Danae? What would it take for you to start making weapons again?”
“Regan, I don’t need a weapon to take out just about anyone I want. Including whatever low-life scum did this. If they want a fight, they can just come and get it.”
“No, no, I mean big ones!” He lowered his voice and raised his intensity at the same time. “Guns. Bombs. The kind that can break us out of here for good.”
Her eyebrows shot up, and her mouth fell open. Then, slowly, she shut her mouth again and folded her arms, staring at him with an expression of what could only be described as resigned disdain. She drummed her fingertips on her elbow and didn’t say a word.
“Danae, listen. It’s just a matter of time before Eye in the Sky finds us. They always find you, I remember that. You and I both know it’s gonna happen.”
“No, I don’t, And neither do you. We’re safe for now and when it’s time to move, Evelyn and Rose and I will figure something out. We always do.”
“How can you be so calm?” His heart was pounding again. He was scared, desperate, all he knew was that he was in a cage, thrust into a hell he couldn’t even remember; suddenly all Regan wanted was out. And you needed guns to break out, and Danae could give them to him. “We all might fall into the fire tomorrow!”
“I know.” She planted her feet and stood firm, glaring straight at him and refusing to budge in any sense, manner or degree.
“And you have this amazing power to make all the firepower we need to bust out of here—and you’re just sitting here, doing nothing!”
“Nothing?” Danae’s voice was like a rock, solid and immovable. Even though its edges were hard, it was something to hang onto, to keep his equilibrium. “You think that weapons are the only way we’re going to survive?”
“I don’t know,” he threw out one last shot. “Maybe they aren’t. But I know that if something were threatening my family, I’d want to defend them with everything I—”
“No.” Danae’s whisper sent chills down his spine. “If something threatened Rose, or Evelyn or Jack, I would throw them into the dry Styx all by myself, and watch them burn. But I don’t need to make a bomb or a gun to do it. And I don’t need you to tell me how to protect my family, or my city, or my life.” She dropped her arms to her sides and cocked her head. “Especially because you really don’t know the first thing about how anything works here, do you? You just said it. You don’t know.”
“No,” he blinked and raised his eyebrow ridges; somehow she didn’t seem angry at him anymore. And he wasn’t terrified as he’d been a moment ago either. But he was certainly still confused. “I guess I don’t.”
“Damn straight. You don’t even know enough to know what you don’t know.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, why don’t you… tell me?”
“If you tell me how you got that bruise on your neck.”
Regan froze. “It’s… hard to explain.”
“Lots of things are here. Listen, regardless of all the other nonsense, you did hit on something important just now. The whole ‘threatening my family’ thing. If you did it to yourself, whatever, none of my business. But if someone did it to you and you’re covering for their ass? My wives and little kid are in this house, and I don't want to see any bruises around their necks. So spill it.”
He stayed very still and quiet, except for the nervous twitching of his discolored frill.
“And, okay, I don’t really want to see any more bruises on your neck either. I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Regan. I think you’re scared and don’t know what’s going on in this bizarre-o world place, and people do crappy things when they feel boxed in and desperate. So give me a name, let me beat ‘em up for you, never ask me to make weapons again, and we’ll all feel much better.”
For around three seconds, Regan was sincerely tempted to tell her everything. Her offer was oddly reassuring, and made him feel safer than he would have expected. In a fair fight, if Hans actually had a solid face to punch, he’d bet on Danae and her fists every time. And spend actual money for a seat; front row, center. But then he remembered that where Danae had an offer, Hans had made a promise, and he turned away, more in
disappointment than shame. “Panic attack.”
“Hmm?” she looked at him and gave her head a slight shake. “Come again?”
“I had a panic attack. Couldn’t breathe. Throat started to close up. This skin around my neck—frill? I think it’s called a frill, I’ve seen lizards with… anyway. It’s sensitive. When I couldn’t breathe, I dunno, I started messing with my neck, I must’ve been too rough with it. So… if you want the guy’s name, you better beat up… me.”
A moment of silence went by. Then he did feel an impact, but it wasn’t the one he was expecting. Still, in his unsteady state, even one of Danae’s friendly claps on the back was enough to nearly knock him off his feet. “Jeez, I’m sorry, guy. Brains can be your own worst enemy, can’t they?”
“Yeah. They really, really can.”
They stood in silence for a couple seconds. Regan just had time to make the observation that usually people didn’t do this outside elevators if they weren’t actually waiting for them, when Danae spoke again.
“So a minute ago you said Zilch was up in ‘Hans’s room.’” She watched him out of the corner of her eye with her hands jammed in the pockets of her faded jeans.
“Yeah?” Regan answered hesitantly, gauging the distance to both ends of the hallway and trying to decide which one was closer.
“You’ve been in to see him?”
“I—what? No.”
“You don’t know him at all? Because yesterday, just before Eye in the Sky shot up my house… looking for you…”
He stopped looking for escape routes, head dropping slightly. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Yeah. Anyway, you said something about Hans then too.”
“I… yeah. I don’t know.” Regan hesitated, nausea rising as he gingerly touched his neck, and the very real consequences of pushing Hans too far. “I remember the name, but, uh. That’s about it. I don’t know where from. Maybe a different Hans.” He looked up at her. “Do you know him?”
“I did.” She nodded slowly, staring at the floor. “This one, anyway. Not that I’ve ever met a lot of Hanses, but… I knew this one.”
Chameleon Moon Page 13
