by Paul Jenkins
At the same time, one of the Roberts had delivered a whimpering Marcus James back to the lobby of the Castle Towers, where Mr. Whatley had made his boss a cup of hot chocolate in the janitor’s closet and promptly sent him back up to the empty penthouse levels in the Rat Vomit Comet. Doubtless, he would be heard from again. But certainly not anytime soon.
* * *
MR. DINSDALE wandered down the museum steps and joined Wil and Lucy. “I’ve been thinking,” he said by way of segueing. “How would you like a job here at the museum, Wil?”
“Doing what?” replied Wil. “And yes. Sure.” If he had learned anything in the last few days, it was that Mr. Dinsdale responded well when things were at their most random.
“Good,” replied Dinsdale, addressing Wil’s second statement first. “I think we have an opening in the security, personnel, public relations, and acquisitions department. Plus, I need someone to keep an eye on the crates in the lobby. Mary doesn’t trust them.”
“Do I have to work directly with Mary?”
“I wouldn’t advise it. She’s not easy to get along with.”
“Fair enough. I accept.”
“Excellent. I took the liberty of paying your landlady, Mrs. Chappell, a year’s rent. She gave you a glowing reference that she countersigned with neon ink.”
“That sounds like her. She’s a cat, you know.”
“They live among us, Wil. They live among us.”
Sensing a moment unfolding, Lucy wisely took a step toward Wil, kissed him on the forehead, and moved off in the direction of the museum. “I’m going to bond with your dad,” she informed him. “D’you think he likes hot chocolate?”
Wil smiled. “I think he invented hot chocolate.”
“Cool. I’ll take him to Mug O’ Joe’s. See you in an hour?”
“Absolutely.”
Lucy wandered off toward the entrance to the museum, and a date with the beginning of the rest of her life (or at least his father). Wil watched her go, admiring her curves through the flowing gypsy skirt, and her anklet, and wondering to himself if she’d actually been barefoot all the way through the Castle Towers as she was now.
Mr. Dinsdale waited for Lucy to move through the revolving door. He looked along the length of Upside-Down Street, until his eyes rested on the old cinema.
“I have such memories of that theater, Wil,” said the old man. “I’ve seen quite a bit of magic inside those four walls.”
“It’s everywhere, Mr. Dinsdale, or so I’m told. You just have to know where to un-look for it.”
“Indeed it is, Mr. Wil Morgan. Indeed it is.”
Wil looked into the old man’s twinkling eyes. “I know that look, Mr. Dinsdale: it’s the one you gave me just before I took the job to find the Levity box. What are you actually trying to say?”
Dinsdale stared into the distance, seeing things with his memories, not his eyes. This was the lucid Dinsdale, the one that could hide in plain sight and never let it be known that his world was full. “I knew you’d make it back, Wil,” he said after a long pause. “It was only a matter of time.”
“Back? From where?”
“From that extended period of your life you wasted being someone you are not. You have a beautiful girl who adores you, a steady job, and a brand-new lease on life. Your father—a brilliant accountant, I might add—is more proud of you than he has ever been. All of this in a single week—just imagine what you could do in a month. I’ll warrant you haven’t felt this way since the two hundred and seventh day of your tenth year of existence.”
“Excuse me?”
Slowly—very quietly—Mr. Dinsdale reached inside his pocket and produced an old English penny. He ran it in and out of his fingers a few times, wondering how to begin, how to end, and how to say everything in between. “I wanted to tell you, Wil. But I wanted it to be the right time.”
Wil felt an overwhelming emptiness, just as he always did—intensified beyond measure by the power of this revelation. “You knew my mom?” he asked, as the tears welled in his eyes and his heart began to slow.
“She came by every so often to drink coffee and consult on our Tesla exhibits. I used to enjoy her visits very much. And then one day she discovered you were living inside her. So then it became every single day, for almost nine months, come rain or shine. She’d walk the exhibits and sing lullabies. I once asked her why, and do you know what she told me? She told me you were going to grow up in a world of magic that was never going to end.”
“But it ended.”
“It just needed to be jump-started.”
“But I lost her.”
“No you didn’t, Wil. Time doesn’t work that way; neither does real magic. Your mother told me something once—one of the wisest things I ever heard a person say: your eyes only see what your mind lets you believe. Did you ever hear that saying before?”
“Once or twice.” The tears were drifting across his cheeks now, like it or not. Wil couldn’t be sure he wanted to hear any more, yet he wouldn’t have avoided listening for all the tea in China.
“And what did you ever make of what it meant?”
“I don’t know. I still don’t.”
“Then what you are going to have to decide, Wil Morgan, is what you are prepared to believe. The rest is up to you.”
Mr. Dinsdale moved away toward the Curioddity Museum then, leaving Wil under the newly repaired street sign. He watched as the old man slowly made his way to the museum steps and through the revolving door.
He thought of the past and of the future, and he pictured the place where the roads meet in between.
* * *
AND HE dreamed of his mother all around him, in every atom. Endless.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PAUL JENKINS is a British born comic writer who lives in Atlanta, GA. He began his career at Mirage Studios working on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Jenkins has written some of the biggest characters for Marvel and DC Comics, including Spider-Man, Batman, Incredible Hulk, and Hellblazer. He is best known for reviving The Inhumans as part of Marvel Knights and creating The Sentry for Marvel Comics. Jenkins also writes for video games on hits like The Darkness, Incredible Hulk, and God of War. You can sign up for email updates here.
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
CURIODDITY. Copyright © 2016 by Paul Jenkins. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photographs: man © Lisegagne/Getty Images; street © Nataliya Hora/Shutterstock
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Jenkins, Paul, 1965– author.
Title: Curioddity / Paul Jenkins.
Description: First edition. | New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2016.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016010639 | ISBN 978-1-250-02615-6 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-1-250-02616-3 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: Museums—Fiction. | Imaginary places—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / General. | GSAFD: Science fiction. | Fantasy fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3610.E5463 C87 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016010639
e-ISBN 9781250026163
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at MacmillanSpecialMarke
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First Edition: August 2016
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
Copyright
