by Rowan Casey
The rules, she knew, were there for order and discipline, a chance to instill better behavior among those who had never had structure in their lives. She never really minded them, except the 6 a.m. shower schedule, but even that had the upside of guaranteed hot water. Still, she was now free to go where she wanted, do and say as she pleased.
They finally turned left on Empire Boulevard and she could begin to see some trees peeking between the buildings. Prospect Park was nearby and she considered going there for some shade to avoid some of the midday heat that was making her sleepy.
“Can we stop and chill out in some shade?”
“I have a better idea,” Daniel said. “We’re going to pass the library. We’ve got time to kill, they have air conditioning. I think it’s a perfect match. Besides, we can recharge our phones. I like the idea of keeping them charged.”
“And there won’t be any police in the library, right?” she said and smiled. His return smile was crossed with a grimace.
As they walked, she noticed he never stopped observing and studying their surroundings. Never once did he falter or react, so clearly he was seeing nothing of note. She asked and he considered his answer.
“I’m definitely starting to see more layers on people and even some of the buildings,” he finally replied.
“Like what?”
“I’m getting a sense of what drunks look like, a purplish sheen is over them or the sheen becomes tiny lizard-like things. Others have something sickly green and snaky. I’m thinking they’re addicts. Some of the buildings are pale orange but I have no clue what that means. Sometimes I’m seeing geometric shapes in various colors.”
“Let me guess…”
“No clue,” he agreed.
“Damn, that’s got to be annoying.”
“Not so much annoying as mystifying. I wonder if I am supposed to understand what I see. The frequency certainly is something new.”
“From being activated?”
“I suppose.”
They were finally nearing Grand Army Plaza and there stood the impressive concrete edifice of the Brooklyn Public Library. It took up a few acres of land and felt like an oasis amidst the retail stores, rundown structures, and scattered homes. Hannah couldn’t wait to get inside and cool off. She knew it hadn’t been that long since they began walking but the weight, her aches, and the heat were wearing her down.
They entered, pausing to check the posted hours, and fortunately they could stay until it was time to find the concert venue. Daniel also scanned for police in order to assure himself that none were within. The teens wandered the spacious first floor and then went up a level to find study carrels where they dropped their knapsacks. They took turns in the bathroom and Hannah cooled herself off at the sink, repeatedly rinsing her face and running a wet paper inside her shirt, moistening her chest and neck. It felt heavenly.
By the time she got back, Daniel had already plugged his phone in and was scrolling through messages. She shot him a quizzical look and he just shook his head.
“Any calls?”
“Detective Kashima,” he said.
“You should turn it off, make certain they can’t trace your signal.”
“They can do that?”
“If they cared enough, but I doubt they’re bothering. But, if it’d make you less paranoid…”
“We’ve got time, go find a book and relax,” he suggested, turning off his phone. “We’re not going to find the horn here, so we should rest.”
“I’m fine.”
“Then I suggest you find some Arthurian books, make the most of your free time,” he said. She disliked the way it sounded like an order but he was under some serious stress. Okay, they both were. He needed to start feeling better about their situation because she needed him. They were going into unknown territory and she didn’t need him distracted, always looking over his shoulder.
After all, they were looking ahead, seeking the horn. Whatever was behind them was in the past. Hannah walked away, continuing to reassure herself the worst was behind them.
8
Daniel
The Shape Shifter Lab was a one-story structure that must have once been a garage. Two corrugated steel doors were down, brightly colored graffiti contrasted pleasantly with the matte black paint that covered the building’s front. The place’s name was centered over the two doors in red letters, backlit, and looking far more professional than Daniel expected for something with the word underground in the festival’s title. At the right were three concrete steps leading to a black door, where a steady flow of men and women gained entry. He studied the surroundings and saw nothing that raised an internal alarms. It took him a moment to realize how grateful that made him feel. This was all so incredibly new to him and he was still getting accustomed to it.
The sun remained bright but low in the sky, the air just beginning to cool, and shadows lengthening across the sidewalk. There were no signs indicating the festival was underway, but then again, those arriving didn’t need to be told. Given the size of the structure Daniel concluded there wouldn’t be room for very many people.
Their walk from the library was uneventful despite passing three more police cars, none of which appeared to be looking for the pair. Daniel couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all looking for him and he refused to turn his phone on. He studied each vehicle as it passed them, hoping his sight might reveal something, but it stubbornly refused to reveal anything. He identified plenty of drug users and a handful of alcoholics but thankfully not the Dvergr.
They shared a large, hot pretzel and a bottle of water from a street vendor but he knew that was a stop gap, they’d need a real meal soon. Their first challenge was finding a way into the place without giving away the bulk of their money. He was studying the adjacent buildings and the crowds, wracking his mind to find a way. Hannah, for her part, was strolling back and forth, also surveying the scene. She caught his attention and held up one finger, signaling he was to wait and then she strolled off.
Her boldness proved helpful and he realized he would need it should they find the horn, if for no other reason, to help him keep it from the dark elf. As the day had progressed, she went from skeptic to believer, prodding him to act and to move, but also to stop worrying about the police who were hunting them. His world had been turned upside in under a week and literally, he found himself a whole other person. No one would believe him, no one other than his…just what was she? They were partners but it felt like more than that. Maybe it was their shared ancient heritage or the fact that in previous lives they were allies and friends. She was pretty and all, but he wasn’t physically attracted to her, which was a relief since it would have been seriously awkward otherwise. She was brave and forthright, which he appreciated. Over the years, he kept to himself too much, withdrawing from the world, letting things slide by but now that he had a purpose, he needed to do his utmost to live up to his new role.
He heard his name and flinched, thinking it was Detective Kashima, finally having tracked him down. Instead, he realized it was Hannah yelling his name from the corner. She was beckoning him to quickly join her. He broke into a jog and ran towards her.
“Come on, we have to move some kegs. Hurry up!” she commanded and walked briskly ahead of him.
“Wait…what?”
“They’re getting a late beer delivery and the driver is by himself. We’re going to help him move the kegs which gets us into the building. We just don’t walk out.”
He blinked as he processed the information and as they rounded the corner, he saw a white panel van with a distributor’s name in curly-cue script, gold against the white. The short, fat driver was shoving a keg to the lip of the side door. He’d already set up a hand truck with an extended handle.
“If you wanna help, hurry it up,” the man said with a thick Hispanic accent. He began cursing to himself as he readied the keg to hand it off. Daniel and Hannah flanked the keg, marked Brooklyn Ale, and they lowered it to the truck
. The man grunted his approval then readied another hand truck, letting Daniel position it on the street. They lowered a second keg and then the man gestured for Hannah to go knock on the service door. The men wheeled their cargo behind her and after two raps of her knuckles, the heavy metal door, painted in the same flat black, squealed open. She shouldered both backpacks for which Daniel was appreciative.
The entire process took maybe fifteen minutes, and by the time the last trip was made, the sweet sound of a trumpet filled the air, drowning out the clattering of people taking their seats and applauding. The driver worked with a bartender to store and connect the kegs. While they were working, Daniel and Hannah moved away from the bar to the opposite side of the rectangular room, putting them at a bad angle from where the first band of the night was well into their first number. It was a quintet with piano, saxophone, trumpet, bass, and drums, all played by men in their twenties and thirties, swaying to the beat, and already perspiring under the lights. The room was just about full, every seat taken, except for those lined up at the bar.
Carefully, the pair loitered against the wall, mixing in with others who were moving with the music. It was nothing like Manny played all those nights ago, but it was pleasant enough. Daniel cautiously studied the performers. The pianist’s fingers were a blur of gold and silver light, giddily bounding up and down the keyboard while the sax was literally giving off red and gold sparks during its solos. The trumpet’s notes were bigger and popped like soap bubbles, each pop emitting a shower of rainbow colors. The bass’ notes were vibrating low to the ground and shimmering in dark colors and the drum beat was like a strobe light shifting between gold, silver, blue, and pure white. It was a dizzying array of light only he could see, but it perfectly matched the sound as it dipped and rose.
He shot her a look and she shrugged in response to the sound, clearly not enjoying it as much as he did. For the first time he wished he could show her what he was seeing. It was just one night and it was far from the worst thing she had to endure this week. The Horned Demon at Avalon was vying with the loss of her belongings that qualified as worst. They’d both lost a lot and today it appeared, he had lost his good name. With the police seeking him, he couldn’t afford to be stopped by anyone, lest his name be broadcast or checked on some database somewhere. He’d be detained, they’d be arrested, and the two new knights would fail. He’d failed at things before, including quadratic equations, but nothing had the importance of their mission, their quest, he corrected himself.
With a slow, steady gaze, he studied the room and its occupants. He considered himself fortunate that it was a fairly contained space, holding less than two hundred people. No demons or elves were mixed in among the audience, although he was picking up traces of new colors, something he’d have to think about later. No geometric shapes and no horn. He repositioned himself a few steps from the wall and concentrated on each of the performers and their instruments. The sax player was doing a fast-paced solo, so Daniel concentrated on the others. With disappointment he merely saw a piano, trumpet, bass, and drums. Nothing Hercules would have ripped from an animal, nothing that could possibly transmute liquids. Maybe it would be the next band.
Unfortunately for Hannah, it was not. There was a middle-aged vocalist who was quite passionate along with a male of similar age, who had long, pomaded black hair who sang tenor and soprano, an alto saxophone, bass, and drums. Between numbers she admitted to preferring them to the quartet and thought she even recognized one number. Both were disappointed as to not seeing the horn but Daniel knew that the path that brought them here was a speculative one at best. He also suspected his luck was not good enough to make finding the horn so easy on the first day of the quest.
Daniel let the music wash over him, concentrating to pick up the beat and the rhythm, trying to make sense of the notes. Manny had talked about jazz as coming from the soul, as something old but original and he went on and on about the greats from decades earlier. These were younger performers and while they improvised and soloed, it sounded different than the “classic” performers. Their colors were bright and vibrant, shining through the dim lighting. The music was pulsating and lively, energizing him in ways he hadn’t imagined. He ached from the day’s moderate exertions, realizing he barely did anything physical over the summer. Gym, should he ever get back to high school, would take its toll on him. For now, though, the upbeat jazz piece was sufficient energy and he realized how much he had liked it. Hannah, though, expressed her impatience with the music by shuffling and crossing her arms, sighing a lot, and wandering the room just to move about. No doubt, she wished a local hip hop club offered a chance to find the horn, but brass like the horn was not typically found in that genre.
The final group was a slower paced trio with a guitar, drums, and bass. Both grew sleepy with the music and leaning against the wall started to feel comfortable. His stomach did a flip, reminding him they hadn’t had dinner and he was awake again. As the trio swung into their final number, she whispered in his ear.
“Yeah, this was a bust, I’m sorry,” he replied softly.
“Now we have to figure out where we’re spending the night. And maybe where we can find some food. I’m really hungry.”
He nodded at that and tilted his head toward the door. She began walking without confirming the suggestion and he followed. She was definitely good with taking point. They emerged onto a dark street, lit by a few street lamps and the signs over the few businesses up and down the block. People strolled about, tapping on their phones, drinking from Starbucks cups, or linked arm in arm, chatting about whatever. The cooling air felt good after the tight quarters and Daniel breathed deeply.
“Find me food with that vision of yours,” Hannah said.
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“No shit. You’ve got to learn when I’m busting on you. But find me food, I am starving.”
It wasn’t a complaint as much as a status report and he knew she wanted him to make good on his earlier promise to figure things out. The problem was the necessary brainstorm was taking a nap. He considered looking for a White Mountain home, but suspected none were nearby. That got him to thinking about homeless shelters. However, he’d heard that they were not safe places and people were robbed or assaulted there. It was also likely they’d have to fill out paperwork to gain access to beds and that might lead to a police report and they couldn’t risk that.
Without realizing it, Daniel was also overhearing snatches of conversation from the passersby. One mentioned heading for the three and that triggered an idea.
“We’re going to the subway,” he announced.
“Where are we going?” she asked, shooting him a confused look.
“We can’t stay here and they’ve cracked down on people sleeping on the subways all night. But, there remain people who live in the tunnels. There are entire communities down there.”
“But they’ve cracked down on those, too,” she said. “And really, how safe can they be?”
“Safer than wandering the streets. There are too many tunnels, the police can’t chase all the people away,” Daniel insisted. “Look, the Atlantic Avenue Station is not too far away. We can go down there and see if we can find where the homeless go to sleep and at least crash for tonight.”
“How safe are you going to feel down there?” Hannah asked as she began following Daniel down the block.
“Safe enough, I suppose. After all, we’re knights.”
“Big deal.”
He chuckled and they walked in companionable silence, although he continued to scan the thinning traffic; a few colorful figures here and there, but he was more alert for police. He doubted they’d be actively looking for them at this hour but a bored patrolman might be keeping vigilant to pass a quiet night.
They turned on to Atlantic Avenue, heading towards the station by Barclays Center. At one point he saw a lot of people veering from the sidewalk towards a park and that caught his attention. Without a word, he follo
wed out of curiosity. To his surprise, the people had flocked around a shiny statue of Captain America, taking selfies before the hero. He’d liked the movies and didn’t know the statue existed but then again, why not? Hannah grinned at the sight of it and insisted they take a picture together before the figure. It felt good, doing something perfectly ordinary rather than seeking food and shelter or a magic horn.
The lights grew brighter and the crowds thicker as they neared the commercial section with many eateries still open. What he also noticed were some street performers, boom boxes blaring, as they spun atop flattened cardboard. There were also street vendors, people selling tin sign replicas of old advertising brands he didn’t recognize mixed with iconic poses of Superman, Spider-Man, and other heroes. Some were selling old books and vinyl records, some had scarves and earrings. He was vaguely aware of these vendors dotting Brooklyn and all around Manhattan, but he never before focused on them. They were vibrant and vital, and his sight saw them pulsing with a blue-white light, something he hadn’t ever seen before. There was an energy to these people, a connection to the community and with an honest work ethic that made him glad he was living here, and not in glitzy Los Angeles where Grimm hid in Avalon.
He knew they were both hungry and he had hoped to find food somewhere but they probably had to break down and buy something. He salivated as he passed ice cream and doughnut shops.
“This is crazy,” he finally said and stopped at a street cart. He bought two hot dogs and two Cokes so they had something to eat and one less thing to worry about. They slowed their pace, window shopping as they ate, although it didn’t take long. The watery hot dog was light on flavor despite the onions and sauerkraut, but it would fill them for now. The Coke was cold, tasty, and perfect for the moment. With a smile, he realized she finished long before he did, and she used the sweaty, cold can to roll over her neck.
