Messiah of Burbank - An Urban Fantasy (Quinn Henaghan Chronicles Book 3)

by Paul Neuhaus

  2

  Lessons

  Quinn felt guilty for the rest of that day as well as part of the next. She would never hook up with Ciara in real life. She was in a committed relationship and wouldn’t think of wrecking that. She’d never been and never would be a “playa”. Still, the dream she had had was both scary and intoxicating. She needed a distraction.

  That distraction came when Glen Sharp brought Josie Taft over for one of the girl’s regular visits with her funky aunts.

  Thanks to a mishap with a magic-powered condom, Josie was a Changeling, a girl with peculiar magic powers. But that wasn’t the only thing that was odd about her. She was also aging at an accelerated rate. Though she was only a little over a year old, she appeared for all the world like a normal sixteen-year-old girl. Josie was a beautiful, albeit increasingly grumpy, teenager with a magical twist.

  Taft brushed past the two women and went into the kitchen. She grabbed a box of sugar cubes and sat down on Quinn and Molly’s couch before turning on the TV. Molly scowled. “Aren’t you even going to say ‘hi’ before you completely tune us out?”

  Josie turned back toward the adults. “Huh? Oh, yeah, hi. No, Uncle Glen’s got something he wants to talk to you about.” With that, she went back to watching a show about bugs on the Discovery Channel. She was inordinately fond of bugs. She was also inordinately fond of sugar. She pulled the cubes out of the box one at a time and sucked on them like candy.

  Blank and Henaghan turned their attention to Josie’s caretaker and chauffeur. “What’s up, Uncle Glen?” Quinn said.

  “I need a huge favor,” Sharp said. “I need to leave town for a while. Can Josie stay with you ’til I get back?”

  Molly and Quinn fell over one another in giving a positive response. Both of them loved Josie despite the girl’s increasing aloofness.

  Quinn lowered her voice, looking back and forth between Taft and Sharp. “What about Josie’s mom?” Despite the fact she and Molly saw Josie on a regular basis, neither of them had ever met Glen’s sister.

  Sharp shook his head. “You’d think that’d be my first option, wouldn’t you? Tanya’s… got a lot of problems. And I’m not even gonna count allowing Darren Taft to knocked her up. Without getting into it, my sister went back to Canada. To get rehab and be with our mom and dad.” Blank and Henaghan had discussed on occasion Glen’s clear reticence at becoming a parental surrogate. He cared for his niece but wanted a different life for himself. If that was obvious to Quinn and Molly, it was probably obvious to Josie too. That coupled with Tanya’s instability no doubt had a lot to do with Josie’s changing temperament.

  Molly touched Glen’s arm. “That’s terrific. I mean about the rehab. She’ll get her head on straight.” The brunette had become a big proponent for therapy since getting some herself.

  Glen sighed. “Yeah. We’ll see. Tanya’s… She’s a hard case.”

  “Where’re you going?” Henaghan asked.

  “To the peace talks. As a consultant.” Sharp beamed with the closest thing to pride his generalized grouchiness would allow. Ever since Quinn’s adventures in San Francisco, tensions had risen between the Tilted and the Resolute. The Resolute’s new, hardline Conservative leadership was largely to blame. They wanted payback for having their headquarters wrecked and, since they couldn’t exact that payback from Quinn, they’d decided to blame the Jihma. Things were bad but not so bad the two sides hadn’t stopped talking to one another. They’d scheduled a meeting in New York to try and hash out their differences. Glen, being a well-informed Channeler with an unbiased logical mind, had been asked to contribute. Still, Sharp wasn’t exactly optimistic. “Not that my big brain’ll do us any good,” he said. “The loudest person in the room always beats the smartest person in the room. That’s human history.”

  Molly scrunched her face. “At least you’re going into it with a good attitude.”

  Glen grinned, pointing his hands at himself. “Hey, this is my good attitude.”

  “God help us,” Quinn said.

  “If only,” Sharp replied.

  Glen sent Josie out to the car to get her bag and the two women assured him Josie would be in good hands for the duration of his absence. After Sharp left, they all settled in for an evening of popcorn and bugs on TV.

  The bugs banished whatever lingering sexual excitement Quinn still felt.

  Molly went to bed before either Josie or Quinn. She kissed both girls on the top of their heads and lumbered off to sleep. When she was gone, Henaghan turned to the much-younger woman. “Listen,” she said. “I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of Molly and make this into a whole weird thing, but I wanna know something: How’re you doing?”

  Josie did a mild double take between the TV and Henaghan. Muting the TV, she settled on Henaghan. “How’m I doing? What do you mean?”

  The redhead sighed. “I remember when I met you and you were a bright, sunny virtual eleven-year-old. Now you’re a not-so-bright, not-so-sunny virtual sixteen-year-old. I was wondering how much of that change in disposition was hormones versus other stuff. Stuff you might want to talk about.”

  Josie had bright yellow hair down to the top of her shoulders. She picked up a handful and began twisting it with her fingers. She thought for a moment. “Do you mean how I’m off the grid because of the whole I’m-only-a-year-old-but-I-look-like-I’m-old-enough-to-drive-a-car-and-because-of-that-I-can’t-go-to-school-and-I-don’t-have-any-friends thing? Or do you mean how I’m considered a freak by other Channelers, so I’m avoided and shunned?” Quinn shrank a little. She’d opened a huge can of worms. But Josie wasn’t finished. “Maybe you mean how my father was an irresponsible dumbass who knocked-up my mom by accident, had no intention of helping out, and then died? Or do you mean how my mother is an alcoholic magic groupie who’s a better addict than she is a parent? Or do you mean my uncle who’s resentful of being stuck with me and would be the first to tell you he isn’t good guardian material? And, let’s not forget, how I look all cutesy-pie and sweet sixteen and people expect me to be all Olson Twin-y but what I really wanna do is knock somebody’s block off.”

  Quinn pulled her legs up and hugged them to herself. Any illusions about Josie being either well-adjusted or ignorant of her own situation evaporated. “Yes. Right,” Henaghan said. “All of the above. Do you remember when we first met and I told you your dad was a good man?”

  Taft nodded.

  “Well, he was. And yet everything you just said about him is true. He was an irresponsible dumbass and you’re right to feel the way you do. If you wanna resent him, go ahead and resent him. I think that’s healthy. As far as your mom goes, I’m sure she loves you. I’m also sure she’s dropping the ball. The weird thing is, kids always think adults have their shit together and that they’ve got it figured out. Then kids get to a certain age and they realize, ‘Oh, shit. These jerk-offs don’t know any more about life than I do. And maybe, just maybe, they know less.’ As far as Glen goes, he’s the one I sympathize with most. He didn’t ask for any of this, and he doesn’t know what to do with the hand he’s been dealt. I get that.”

  Josie looked down at her hair and watched herself twist it. She started to speak then stopped. The thought wasn’t fully-formed.

  “We’ve never had this kind of chat before,” Quinn said. “But I want you to know something: I had super-shitty parents. My mother abused me. Physically. I’ve got… souvenirs all over my body to remind me of my childhood. My dad was… he was weak. He never did anything wrong, really, apart from not stopping my mom. Which, I dunno, is maybe worse in some ways.”

  Taft looked up at her surrogate aunt and laughed. “I’m sorry. Were you trying to cheer me up?”

  Henaghan laughed too. The conversation had turned bleak. “No. Honestly, in retrospect, I don’t know what I was trying to do. Maybe just say that it’s okay for you to feel the way you do. And, also, if you ever wanna talk about it, Molly or myself or both of us, would be happy to go over it with you. To wh
atever extent that’d actually help.”

  The faux-teenager nodded, again uncertain what to say in response.

  Quinn dropped her feet to the floor and said, “Now, on a completely unrelated note: Don’t you think it’s time you and I talked about magic?”

  Josie gestured toward the television with her remote hand. “Can we do it after?” she said. “Hercules Beetles. With the crazy horns on their heads. Have you seen ‘em? They’re freaking freaky.”

  “You know,” Quinn said. “Maybe I’m crazy, but I’m a little bugged-out for one evening. Hit the record button. You can watch it tomorrow with your Cheerios.”

  Josie hit the record button and turned off the TV. “Are there any magic bugs you could show me?” she said, resigning herself to the change of gears.

  Henaghan stood up and rubbed her legs to get the circulation going again. “This isn’t about me and it sure as hell isn’t about bugs. It’s about you. Has Glen shown you anything?”

  “About magic?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “Not really,” Josie said. “I don’t think he knows what to do with me. My magic’s not like other people’s magic. Plus, there’s that whole thing about girls not being Channelers. He doesn’t mean to be misogynist, but you can’t fight eighteen million years of history.”

  The redhead clucked her tongue. “You’re awfully reasonable for someone who’s like a year old.”

  “Fourteen months,” the girl corrected her. It was odd yet somehow fitting that Josie described herself in the same terms new parents used to describe their toddlers.

  “You’re not gonna run into the same problem with me. Misogyny-wise. I’m not supposed to be able to Channel either and it’s worked out semi-okay so far.”

  Taft put the remote down on the coffee table and stood up herself. “Should I put on sweats or something?”

  The girl was wearing Keds and a knee-length dress. “No,” Quinn said. “It’s not like I’m hauling you off to 24 Hour Fitness. Let’s just have some fun.”

  Josie came around the coffee table to stand next to her aunt.

  “As much as possible, I try not to do magic in front of regular people. I don’t need that kind of aggravation. I’m gonna take you someplace where we can just do whatever we want. Fair warning, though… It’s loopy. The first time your dad took me there, I almost pissed myself. Do you trust me?”

  “I do,” Josie said. Henaghan was glad the girl sounded like she meant it.

  Quinn held out her hand and Josie took it.

  They blinked into the Astral Plane and floated with their toes pointed down. All around them were stars and gaseous nebula. Quinn prepared herself for Josie’s reaction, ready to calm the girl should she panic. She didn’t panic.

  Darren Taft’s daughter looked around in wide-eyed wonder. “Wow, wow, wow,” was all she said. Her voice dopplered around them in weird ways. For a moment, Josie continued to say “wow” to track the sounds and get her bearings.

  Henaghan smiled. “Well, you’re taking this a lot better than I did.”

  Josie didn’t look at Quinn. She was too busy drinking in her surroundings. “I watch a lot of Discovery. This is like being dropped into How the Universe Works. It’s… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. How’re we breathing? Can we move through it? Can we go to other planets? Is there life anywhere?”

  The older woman was embarrassed she didn’t know the answers to any of those questions. “Well… In terms of how we’re breathing, I don’t know. This isn’t our universe per se. We’re not in the middle of interstellar space, we’re in another dimension. A dimension called the Astral Plane. There is life, but it’s big and its scary so I’m going to put off showing it to you.”

  “You’re talking about the Asura. And the Deva.”

  Quinn nodded.

  “I live with a wizard. And a wizard groupie. You pick up some stuff by osmosis.” Josie had a hell of a vocabulary for a fourteen-month-old. Score one for the Discovery Channel.

  “Great. That means we’re not starting at zero.”

  Josie at last took her eyes off the vista surrounding them and turned to Quinn. “Does this mean you’re my Yoda?”

  Henaghan hesitated. “I don’t wanna step on any toes. What has Glen taught you?”

  “This is my first time here if that’s any indication.”

  “Okay, well, how about this? Yes, I would love to be your Yoda, but we’re gonna go real slow. At least until I talk to Glen. I don’t want to countermand him since he’s technically your guardian.”

  “Fair enough,” the girl said, eager for knowledge and pleased Quinn was taking an interest.

  The redhead stretched her back and “sat down” in the lotus position. Taft laughed. “What?” Quinn said with a small grin.

  “You got tiny. Now you even look Yoda-y.”

  “Thank you for not mocking my size handicap,” Henaghan replied with a mock scowl.

  “You are tiny,” Josie protested. It was true. The faux-teenager was already taller than her aunt.

  “Alright, alright. You wanna do magic or do you wanna rag on me?”

  Josie scrunched up her face. “Can’t we do both?”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Henaghan said. “You told me your magic was weird. What did you mean?”

  “Well,” Josie said, jamming her hands into her pockets. “I have control issues. Plus, Uncle Glen says I do things fundamentally different than other Channelers.”

  “Different how?”

  Taft rooted around in her pockets for a moment then pulled out her hands to reveal inside-out pockets and nothing else. “Ugh. Do you have a coin or something?”

  Quinn straightened so that she was lying flat. She dug into her skirt pockets and finally said, “I have a button.”

  “Perfect!” the girl said. After Henaghan returned to her seated position, Taft came forward and took the button. Floating slightly backwards, she placed the plastic disc in her right palm and stared at it. “This might or might not work. Like I said, I don’t always get results.”

  “This is a judgement-free zone.”

  Josie nodded, deepening her concentration. After a moment, the button wobbled in her hand. Then it stretched and contracted, seemingly bored of its own shape. In and out it went in rhythm with the girl’s pattern of focus. Quinn looked up at Taft’s face. Whatever she was doing, Taft was struggling. Then, all at once, the button morphed into a full-sized umbrella. Gasping, Josie broke off her effort and, seeing no other way to finish, she opened the umbrella and propped the shaft against her shoulder. She turned it slowly and looked like a lady walking with a parasol.

  Quinn came to a standing position again and clapped. “Holy shit,” she said. “That was awesome.”

  “Meh,” Josie replied. “I wasn’t going for an umbrella. I was going for a miniature hedgehog. Have you seen those things? They’re so frigging cute.”

  “You transmogrified,” Henaghan replied.

  “I know,” the girl nodded.

  “Your father once told me Channelers couldn’t do that. That that was strictly Harry Potter shit.”

  Josie shrugged with her free hand. “Technically, I can’t do it either. I mean not without some serious effort. I almost popped a vein in my head, and I didn’t get the result I was after.”

  “I could be wrong, but I think control will come with practice. The point is, you’re doing something unprecedented.”

  The blond raised one finger. “Not true, actually. Don’t forget Uncle Glen is a know-it-all. He says creatures like me pop up from time to time. There’s even a name for what I am. ‘Changeling’. It comes from Celtic folklore. Mischievous faeries would swap out human babies for creepy freak babies. In my case it refers to the fact I was changed at conception and I can change things into other things. Thus, the name.”

  Quinn’s expression made her lack of approval clear. “Don’t call yourself ‘Changeling’. Or ‘creature’. You’re not either of those things. You’re Josie.”
>
  Josie nodded, pleased that Henaghan had her back.

  “Do it again,” the older woman said.

  Taft pulled the umbrella away from her shoulder and looked at it hard. It turned into a garden hose. This time, she didn’t break concentration. The garden hose turned into a concertina. The concertina turned into a bust of Benjamin Disraeli. The bust of Benjamin Disraeli turned into a bass guitar. The bass guitar turned into a shiny pear.

  She would’ve gone on like that for a while if she hadn’t been bumped from behind. It was a Vidyaadhara. A phantasm. It had nudged Josie experimentally in the same way a shark will sometimes bump its prey. Quinn looked around. They were surrounded by Vidyaadhara, swimming around them in an ever-narrowing circle. “Shit,” Quinn said. She threw a bubble around herself and her pupil as the first of the phantasms darted in for a full strike. The creature, looking like a tadpole made of hot gases, bounced off the shield.

  Josie cried out. She dropped the shiny pear and looked at the swarm of hungry monsters all around them. “What’re those?!”

  “Phantasms,” Henaghan replied. “They’re attracted by sustained magic use.”

  “Can you kill them?”

  Quinn had never asked herself that question. “I don’t think it’s gonna come to that. Usually, once they see they can’t get in, they get bored and swim away.”

  Several more Vidyaadhara rammed the shield and the shield’s surface flashed and sparked each time. Inside the bubble, Henaghan and Taft waited. But the phantasms didn’t grow bored and swim away. If anything, they became more aggressive. And their attacks were all targeted at Josie’s side of the shield. Josie looked around frantically. “I don’t like this,” she said.

  “Me either,” Quinn replied and she made ready to cast a portal spell to take them back to the house in Burbank. As she raised her hand, the Vidyaadhara redoubled their efforts. None of them were orbiting the shield now. All of them were on the attack. They were working together with the intention of shattering the bubble. “Hold tight,” the redhead said. “We’re getting out of here.”