by Andy Hyland
I thought about it. All he’d gone through. What he must have seen. The journey back to this world. “Nothing,” I said, finally. “Let the man go home.” Zack looked at me open-mouthed. I shrugged. “Can you help him?” I asked Tabbris.
She shook her head. “Our part is done. The problem is dealt with. We can’t touch him. We can’t even enter his house. Those restrictions still remain. The Union will face the same problems.”
“He’s one of us,” I said. “Mage-born, maybe, but that’s Aware as far as I’m concerned. We’ve got him now. Zack, stop looking at me like I’m crazy and think things through calmly. Scorpio was your friend. When we count the cost of all this, we’ve probably all lost someone. You can lay the blame in a lot of places, but none of it falls at his feet. Take him home for me. Call Mercy, tell her we need babysitters. Then find Arabella. The fun and games haven’t stopped yet.”
He looked at me, and for a minute I thought he’d refuse, storm off. But he nodded, and walked over to where David was standing.
“You did well. I am impressed,” said Tabbris. “Surprised. But impressed. I think I owe you a favor. Is there anything you have in mind?”
“One request. Stay out of the way of me and mine. I trust that you can avoid looking for the loopholes in that?”
“I agree, in the spirit in which you ask. Freely offered.”
“And freely accepted.”
“But be aware that there are obligations outstanding that it is not right or proper to revoke. These remain.”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about, but there’s no point arguing.”
“Glad you see the sense in that. Time for us to leave.”
“One thing,” I asked, as she turned away. “One question. You had to agree to so much when you returned David to Ellen. No harm would come to him. All that sort of stuff. Your hands were completely tied on this. You were utterly screwed. What did you want from her so badly that you’d agree to that, regardless of the trouble it would cause?”
“Forgiveness,” she said, without looking back. “I wanted her forgiveness.”
And she was gone. They all were. It was just me, Zack and David left standing there.
Chapter eighteen
Julie was waiting outside the apartment when I got back, crouched on the floor with her back to the wall, playing some game on her phone. “Hey, stranger,” she said, looking up and smiling.
“Sorry I didn’t call,” I managed to get out, still breathless from hurrying back and hurtling up the stairs.
“I know, I know. I had your phone,” she said, waving it. “Figured you or someone would get in touch somehow, at some point.”
“It got hairy for a bit back there, but it’s done now.”
“David?”
“He’s not hurting anyone anymore. No, don’t look like that. He’s safe. Better. Restored. Let’s get a drink and I’ll tell you about it. What are you doing out here, anyway?”
“Feels too freaky in there. And it smells. It’s getting a bit crowded, as well. This other guy came in after you left – my fault for forgetting to shut the door. He froze, same as Ron and Kim.”
I wandered in. Larry Dialgo Junior was standing there, stiff as a board, away with the fairies. “Should we move him?” Julie asked. “The sofas are taken, but we could put him on the floor.”
“No, leave him where he is. He doesn’t get the special treatment until I’m sure he’s decided to be a bit more helpful. Let’s check on the other two.”
Kim was relaxed, the paralysis worn off. Asleep, her face at peace and a gentle smile on her lips. I touched her face, which was still cracked and festering. “I think she’ll have to live with a few scars. But I know some people. Between them and a good dentist I reckon we’ll get her sorted out.”
Ron hadn’t been so lucky. The stench of rotting meat was strong in the room, and it was all coming from him. He wasn’t breathing and his eyes were lifeless. One out of two. Not great. But if they hadn’t come here, Kim would be lying dead in that warehouse as well. All in all, I could take it as a win. I started to lift Ron up from the sofa, planning to get him bagged up as soon as possible, but his back split, pouring a congealed black mess of blood and half-dissolved organs over the cushions and the floor.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered, as Julie ran into the bathroom to puke down the toilet. I put him back down and went to the cupboard where I kept my professional cleaning gear, and got to work.
It took until midnight, but finally Ron was disposed of, and Kim was receiving some first rate, and slightly magical, medical care. I took Julie for a drink downtown, to some cheesy superficial place with bright lights and silly cocktails, and by the early hours I had her smiling and laughing again. Then, because I’d done my best but the smell would take time to purge from my apartment, we headed back to her place and crashed in the wreckage of David’s little tantrum. Tidying up one more mess could wait.
Sleep was deep and comfortable and dark and empty. Just the way I like it. I blinked my eyes open and found myself on the floor with a blanket draped over me. “Julie?” I croaked out. No answer. I dragged myself upright, and was pleasantly surprised to find no signs of a hangover. Result. Those cocktails must have been mostly fruit juice and ice. That did raise the question of why, then, they’d been so bloody expensive, but for now I could live with that.
A quick check of all the rooms revealed a complete absence of a Julie, so I pottered round for a bit, picking up books and restoring them to the bookcases. They’d been haphazard before, so this was a perfect opportunity to create some sort of order. Fiction over on the left, hard fact to the right, magic stuff tucked away behind locked glass panels. Her Dad’s old favorite chair was wrecked, but a friend of a friend was handy on the carpentry front. I’d get it sorted out as a surprise.
The view still struck me every time I got near the windows. A clear view out over Central Park. It would be glorious in the height of summer, and was pretty special even now. I stood there, gazing out, and remembered how we’d both slid through to the Fades, to this very room in dark Manhattan. She had that amulet round her neck that made it possible for her. In theory there was no reason I couldn’t do the same. Might take some practice, but it would be damn useful as a party trick.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and took a step backwards, through the veil, concentrating on the room, the positioning, the feel of it all. “Bugger,” I said when I opened my eyes. I was in a completely different room, which after a bit of investigation turned out to be the other side of the building from Julie’s. At least it was on the same floor. And in the same building. Not bad for a first attempt. Give it some practice, and I’d get there. I reversed the slide, arriving back in our world in a different apartment again. Gentle snoring was coming from the bedroom of this one, so I tiptoed out before anyone got wise to a stranger standing around.
“Where did you get to?” Julie asked when I got back to her place. She was up and smiling, holding two takeaway coffees.
“Looking around. We need to get that door fixed.”
“I know. I spoke to Dan – you’ve not met him. he works with Greg. Greg’s a bit ill, so Dan took his shift. He’ll get it sorted out.”
“He wasn’t curious?”
“I think Dan knew Dad long enough to not ask too many questions. So apart from ordering new furniture for here, what are we doing today? Oh, that look on your face again. Busy, I take it?”
“Very. Need to check David is being well looked after. Zack’s not got back to me about Arabella. And there’s a cop back at my place who should be thawing out soon, if he hasn’t already done so.”
Julie nodded. I’d filled her in about the whole David history and recovery. “Not bad work for a few days.”
“I don’t know. Think I’ve upset Zack. For a moment there when I told him to take David home, I thought he was going to tell me to go to hell.”
“No way he’d do that. You don’t get it, do you?”
�
�What?”
“People follow you. No, don’t roll your eyes, hear me out. People trust you. They follow you.”
“Don’t start talking like that,” I said, pulling on my coat. “I’m nobody’s leader.”
“No? I disappeared, you took over the Outworld Emporium, and the staff followed you without question. They love you. Apart from the ones that suspect you run drugs on the side. I’ll sort that out. Seriouly, though, it happens everywhere. You have the ideas, you come up with dumbass crazy-shit plans, and people fall in line. You are the leader.”
“The Aware don’t have leaders.”
“Oh, I think they do. You’re all just too busy walking around being independent to be honest about it.” She grinned. “You could be the Head Wizard.”
“Don’t say that. Nobody says ‘wizard’. Not unless we’re joking. And we don’t have a head of anything.”
“Have it your way. You’ll see. Call me later. Let me know Arabella’s okay.”
“Will do.”
“And, big question,” she said, turning serious and looking round the apartment. “What color for the walls?”
I gave her a peck on the cheek as I left. “Can’t believe you’re even bothering to ask me that question.”
*
Larry Dialgo was not quite unparalyzed, but close to it. He was slumped in the hallway, his legs bent uncomfortably beneath him, so I dragged him up, stuck him on a clean sofa, and got a beer ready for when he was fully mobile.
Ten minutes later he was swearing and spitting like a trooper. Not a happy camper. I let him get it out of his system. He picked up the beer and slugged it down, so I got him another. Thirsty work, standing up all that time.
“What was that?” he asked eventually.
“Security. Nothing harmful in the long term. It stops anything in its tracks that I don’t want here. Useful, as you can imagine.”
“Wish you’d have warned me.”
“We weren’t exactly on good terms the last time we bumped into each other. Wasn’t expecting a house call.”
He looked bashful and drank some more beer. “Yeah, the old man’s being having words with me about that. Turns out I’ve got you wrong. Or so I’m told.”
He paused. I waited. I could wait for hours.
He buckled. “So I apologize,” he said. Didn’t quite sound like he meant it, but it wasn’t easy for him and he’d made the effort, so I let it go.
“We won’t speak of it again,” I said. “You come all the way over here for that?”
He reached into his jacket and brandished a slim file, rolled up tight. “Missing kids. This gets locked up tight by people far higher up the pay scale than me. I tried for you, but then I started getting funny looks. And my boss warns me to stop asking before the wrong people notice. I took the hint. Dad said they used to hide it all because they couldn’t fix it. I’m not sure that’s what’s happening this time round. Feels more like someone’s locking it down for other reasons. This, though, this you could use.” He tossed the file across to me. I unrolled it and flicked through as he continued. “Ray Jenkins. Detective. Good man. Too honest to make it far, but if there’s something going down, you’d want him at your back every time. Five nights ago he was near to where one of the kids got taken. Saw something. Or so he said. He was told to shut his mouth, by concerned colleagues. Didn’t stop him throwing paperwork around.”
“He’s dead?”
“No. That would have raised serious questions. You can’t sweep a cop being killed under the carpet. He was found in kitchen one morning by his wife. Someone had kicked the crap out of the guy. Hasn’t been seen outside the house since he got out of hospital. Retracted every statement he’d made. I figure he might talk to you.”
“His wife okay? Nobody else got hurt?”
“Just him. His two kids were asleep upstairs. You ask me, they’re why he’s not talking. Them, and Angela, his wife.”
“Sounds familiar. Thanks for this.”
“No problem.” He looked at the door. “Is it safe to…?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s one way. You can leave without a problem. You’re welcome back any time, but if I were you I’d call first.”
I checked my phone after he left. Still nothing from Zack. I gave him a call and he picked up on the first ring. “Anything?” I asked.
“No, and I’ve been at it for hours, ever since Mercy sent Ollie round to take over the babysitting duties. That man has got the patience of a saint, by the way.”
“He needs it. You should meet his girlfriend. How’s David doing?”
“Badly. He’s quiet though. For the most part he’s sitting there, rocking slightly. Going to take a while.”
“Well, time is something he’s got a lot of. Have you checked out that club downtown that Arabella likes? The one with the green chandelier?”
“I’ve tried them all. And called everyone she hangs out with. Nobody’s seen her since she ran into you. Even before then, she’s been quiet.”
“Know where she lives?” I asked.
“Easy enough to find out. Give me ten minutes.”
It took five. He grabbed a cab, picked me up, and we headed to Harlem, where Arabella apparently had a small studio apartment above a pawnbroker. I spoke nicely to the guy running the place, while Zack glared at him, and between us we convinced him to let us up the back staircase. “She’s a good girl,” he called out as we went up. “I’d hate to see her in any trouble.”
Zack looked at me. “Good girl? You think we’ve got the wrong place here?”
I picked the lock while Zack ran his eyes over the runes, flicking his fingers, concentrating. “Fine,” he said when he was finished. “Security’s turned off. Easy enough to do – I taught her every hex and ward she’s using around the place.”
“Brace yourself,” I said, grabbing the doorknob. “I hate to think what this place looks like.”
Nothing could have prepared us for what was on the other side of the door. We’d spent years – decades, for Zack – fighting the type of evil that the everyday humans around us never even dreamed about. Hellspawn, black magic, decomposing and desecrated corpses. We’d seen it all. But this was something else.
The walls were pale blue, with fluffy white clouds added up near the ceiling. Nearly everything else was pink. A pink wooden single bed with a pink duvet cover and pillow. Pink desk. Pink chair. A line-up of Barbies up against the window, all in a range of fetching pink outfits. Posters on the wall of fantasy landscapes, rolling hills and thundering waterfalls, winged figures dancing in the air.
“We’re in the wrong place,” Zack said, turning round and heading back down the stairs. He was back up in two minutes, shaking his head. “This is it. I showed the guy a photo of Arabella. She lives here. As far as he’s concerned, she’s the best tenant ever. But this…this is a bloody teenager’s room. No, younger than that. It’s a kid’s room.”
“Maybe she’s tried to capture her old life as best she can,” I said quietly, “in a private way. Her own little world. And out there in the real world, she’s turned into…bloody hell, Zack, what have we done to her?”
He shook his head. “How do we start making it right?”
“That’s easy. We start by finding her, and dragging her out of whatever shit she’s gotten herself involved with. Go through the place. Everything. She must have left something.”
“Fine, but I swear, Malachi, if I find a unicorn I won’t be responsible for the consequences.”
We hit the obvious places first, because she was a friend, and the less we invaded her privacy, the easier it’d be to look her in the eyes. The desk, under the bed, the closet – these were the obvious spots, but they yielded nothing.
“Hold on,” said Zack, from near the door. “Got something.” He pulled aside a denim jacket that was hanging on the hook, to reveal a plastic note board, with a pink fluffy marker pen hanging from it by a piece of string. The writing was smudged, but we could still make it out. “12.30, Bethes
da, Wednesday” he read. “The fountain?”
“That’d be my guess. Seems public, but maybe that’s the point. Might not even be related to the trouble she’s in, but if there’s a chance that she’s going to show up, then it’s worth a try.”
“Well we got here on the right day. Two hours to go,” he said, checking his watch. “More than enough time.”
“Let’s grab a hot dog and settle in, then.”
*
Central Park was bustling in the sun. Young kids with ice creams dragging along smiling parents. Dates arm in arm. Tourists watching the world through phone cameras, delighted at absolutely everything. “You see anything yet?” I asked into my phone.
I could see him, the other side of the fountain, hidden behind a group of workers grabbing their lunch. He shook his head. “It’s 12.25. She’s leaving it late.”
“If she’s even coming. Keep moving and keep your eyes open.”
Ten minutes passed slowly. 12.35. No sign of Arabella, or Valen, or anyone else that we knew, for that matter. A normal lunchtime in the park. “We’re wasting our time here” Zack said, stopping by my shoulder. “She’s not showing. Not here, not in the middle of the day. Maybe when it’s dark.”
“Dark,” I muttered to myself, cogs whirring and ideas forming.
“Let’s face it,” he continued. “Wrong place, or wrong time, or both.”
“No,” I replied. I reckon we’re right on both those things. We’re just in the wrong Manhattan.”
Chapter nineteen
“You can actually do that?” Zack said, after I’d explained about sliding from our Manhattan to the same point in the Fades.
“It does work. Julie can pull it off without a hitch. Don’t ask – long story, I’ll tell you later. I’ve tried it and it’s not easy, but it can be done. Once you grasp that, you can set up a meeting at a landmark everyone knows, but have it in complete privacy, more or less. As long as you’re willing to take the risk of wandering round the Fades.”
