“Don’t joke. It’s unimaginable. No kid deserves that.”
He wouldn’t look at her now. Was he ashamed? “As time went on, Sir Ken-doll became Sir Kendall, and Gene and Gary would have these elaborate, crazy discussions, both playing the part of Sir Kendall. And then they’d make me talk like Sir Kendall, and beat me until I’d say old chap stuff. Or they’d tie me to a tree naked all night. They always thought up new stuff, but it was always about Sir Kendall, and it always started with old chap. The second I heard one of them say old chap, I knew I was in for it.”
She could see the boy in him, hurt, alone. She took his hand, held it warm over hers and rubbed salve onto his knuckles. She was covering things she’d already treated with the salve, but he needed to be cared for. “No kid deserves that,” she said.
“I played my part.”
“You were staying alive.”
“They had this crazy hatred for James Bond,” he continued. “There was some of James Bond in Sir Kendall, especially in the later years. Sir Kendall, the ladies’ man spy. Sir Kendall was rich. Sir Kendall liked his clothes just so. Sir Kendall thought he was better than Gary and Gene. Sir Kendall liked tiny sandwiches.”
She kept his hand, letting the silence be there.
“I hate him. Sir Kendall. The bane of my goddamn life.”
Alix wished for something helpful to say—Karen would know what to say. But Alix gave him the best she could—her hand. Her compassion. Her everything. “I’m so sorry.” A silence. “Your mom? She didn’t…”
“She was a drunk, Alix. Your mom, she is so awesome. You can’t even imagine.” He sat up, seemed to gather himself. “Anyway, see what I mean? He’s not the Denali man.” He said this as though the name was the point.
“It’s amazing you survived. You came through. You are survivor.”
“Like hell. I ran as soon as I could. The month I turned eleven, I stole some money and took a bus to Oakland. I was pretty big for my age, and I just acted like an adult and went. I got this job as a dishwasher and I lived under the back porch of an old house.”
“Wow.”
He snorted. “Not fun during the rainy season. But then this old guy came to the burger counter and asked if anyone knew of any boys who would like to live in a little room above his martial arts gym in exchange for cleaning. One of the cooks dragged me out to volunteer me. I saw later that it was a setup, but back then I thought it was just luck. And hell if it didn’t save my life. This old guy, Master Veecha, he was a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu master and the room was a studio down the hall from his apartment above one of his schools. But it had a lock on the door. And it was mine. It was like Veecha knew that I would run from anything else. He fed me, got me into a school. It was kind of a wildcat adoption. He didn’t give a shit about laws, Master Veecha. I owe that man everything.”
“That was his school. In Oakland.”
“One of them. You probably met him.” He smiled at her then. “Little guy? Wiry and tough? Smoking cigs all the time?”
She shook her head. She wished she’d remembered, that she could share that with him.
“Anyway, yeah, I got heavy into training, became an instructor, started winning championships.” He looked down. “I wanted to go back to Ohio and save my mom, Alix, but I always felt like I wasn’t strong enough yet. Hell, after two years in that school, I could’ve destroyed ten Gene and Garys with my hands tied behind my back but not Sir Kendall. Fucking Sir Kendall.”
She narrowed her eyes. It didn’t make sense. Why was he against Sir Kendall in all this?
“And then I called one Christmas and she was dead. Her liver went.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should’ve gotten her out of there.”
“She should’ve gotten you out of there.”
“I could’ve tried, Alix,” he said. “Anyway, she’s dead, and Gene and Gary are in a supermax prison now.”
She squeezed his shoulder, waited for him to look at her. Finally, he did, and she told him one thing she knew for sure. “The mom is supposed to protect the kid, Paul, not the other way around.” She felt his body still. Maybe she’d said the wrong thing, insulted his mother. “You did the best you could. Nothing there was your fault.”
“That’s debatable.”
“It’s not debatable,” she said. “It’s just plain-old true.”
He shook his head, as though frustrated. “And now he might have super-powers.”
“Paul,” she said softly. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Do you see the problem now? Let’s get the spell book and send him back. He can’t be here.”
“But…” she didn’t see. “He hasn’t done anything.”
He shook off her hand and stood. “He’s an evil nightmare from my childhood.”
“I know, but...” Alix wanted to show she cared, but killing Sir Kendall? “I don’t see where he’s dangerous.”
“I can’t believe this.” He looked a little wild, face all shiny from the ointment. “I tell you a deep, dark secret, something—believe me, I never intended to share with anybody—just to save you from harm, so you know what you’re dealing with, and you’re going to ignore it?”
“I’m not ignoring it.”
The door downstairs banged. Sir Kendall was back.
“Great,” Paul said. “Just great.”
“I want to do the right thing.”
“The right thing? You wouldn’t know the right thing if it bit you on the ass.” Lindy came bounding into the bathroom a minute later. “The right thing is to put him back where he belongs.”
She felt tears well up. Was she stupid for not understanding his story? “I don’t get how your story proves he’s dangerous. How it makes it right to rip Sir Kendall from the world he’s gotten used to.”
“I can’t believe this.” He stood, looking bewildered. “I can’t be here.” He stormed out. His footsteps sounded down the hall. His door slammed. She put the lid back on the ointment, trying not to cry.
When Alix was sure everyone was asleep, she crept downstairs, got the box from the secret spot in the closet, and brought it to her little office.
The horror of Paul’s story had shaken her deeply. He’d been abused and tortured by people who should’ve cared for him. And she’d made it worse, thoughtlessly bringing Sir Kendall to life. He’d be so relieved if she just sent Sir Kendall back. But would it really save him? Would it even help?
She took out the magic book and leafed through it, carefully bookmarking the pages that looked the most used and the ones that had the most notes in the margins. Then she scanned them on her scanner and emailed them to Karen in Stockholm, along with one of the Jim Morrison photos, the photo of Aunt Veronica with the electrodes, and a shot she’d taken of the horned hat.
She desperately wanted to help Paul, to show she was on his side. Hell, if it was Gene or Gary she’d conjured, sure, she’d get rid of him ASAP. But Sir Kendall? How was he dangerous? He seemed more like a victim in Paul’s story, and now he was a victim of hers. She’d pulled him out of his home, ruined him for his world. He deserved a chance to be human, didn’t he?
But the look in Paul’s eyes. You wouldn’t know the right thing if it bit you in the ass.
She’d do this, at least. Get the spells ready in case there was trouble.
Five minutes later, her phone rang. Karen. “What the hell am I looking at here? Where did this come from?”
“A book in the carriage house. What time is it there?”
“Alix, you found the occult program, or, at least, how she approached it. This is massive.”
“Paul thinks we should use it to send Sir Kendall back, but I say, innocent until proven guilty. Don’t you think? But that’s not a reason to stay ignorant of the magic. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“No, yeah!” Karen agreed enthusiastically. “It’s smart of you. These commands look like UNIX commands that were tweaked. They’re referencing C programming code files, like what you found o
n that floppy. I’m going to do a little research and get some input. And the part we don’t know is the magic. I bet there’s a kind of bridge in here, somewhere. Wow. Maybe she enchanted one of these commands.”
“Did you see Jim Morrison?”
“Yeah. And the electrodes on her head? What is she looking at?”
“Her eyes are closed.”
“That’s what I thought, but she could be looking down. Can you tell what’s on her desk? This is kind of low res, what you sent.”
Alix grabbed the original. “It does look like something’s on her desk. A photo. She’s looking at a photo.”
“Is that how she did it?” Karen asked. “It’s not like they had jpegs back then. Is that how she selects the image?”
“But I didn’t wear electrodes.”
“Electrodes, clicking, it’s all ones and zeros in the end.”
Karen made her check outside the door to make sure Sir Kendall wasn’t listening, then instructed her to erase all the files. “I’m going to figure this out,” Karen said. She wanted to know how the rest of it was going. Alix filled her in on Paul turning out to be a pretty good guy, aside from his irrationality toward Sir Kendall. She didn’t tell Karen his story, of course. She told her about the rubies and the supernatural ointment test, though.
Karen approved.
Alix felt too weary to put the book and the box back in its hiding place, so she brought it up to her bedroom with her. She hid it under her bed, locked the door, and crashed.
Alix woke up the next morning to the sound of drilling from out back. Paul and Tonio at work on the carriage house.
The horror of Paul’s tale filled her anew. Abused for years. A little boy, scared and alone against those evil people. She wanted to run out there and stop Paul from drilling and hug him and soothe him.
But that’s not what he wanted from her. He wanted her to get rid of Sir Kendall.
She put away her clothes from the night before and was stunned when she picked up her sweater from the corner where she’d thrown it only to find the ruby necklace gone from the pocket.
Gone.
She knew she’d left it in there. Only Paul had seen her put it in there, and he wouldn’t take it. And she couldn’t see Sir Kendall picking her lock to get into her room while she was sleeping, just for the necklace. He would never even have known where to look. So where was it?
She checked all around. It was as if the necklace had disappeared into thin air.
She looked out the window—Sir Kendall’s car was gone, too. How could it be? The car made so much noise, she would’ve heard him drive off. And where the hell were her boots? The boots were gone, too!
A chill settled over her. Was all the stuff she’d ordered gone? She threw on her sweats and checked Sir Kendall’s room. He wasn’t in there. His laptop wasn’t there, either.
She padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. His tea stuff hadn’t been used—it was still dry in the dish rack. He always made tea in the morning. One must have a spot of tea first thing.
Maybe this was what happened to her aunt’s men, too—they just vanished. Or had she somehow caused it by scanning the spell book pages?
Sir Kendall was gone. Was he trapped inside a picture, now? Only with agonizing, new consciousness?
The drill whirred. She rushed out back. Paul stood on a ladder, fussing with a giant hook that was set into one of the beams in the ceiling.
Tonio stood below, holding a heavy bag that had ropes on the end. “Here it comes.” He threw one of the ropes up to Paul, and Paul looped it over the hook.
And then he looked down.
Totally healed.
Tonio lifted the heavy bag. “Go!” Together the men hoisted the thing upwards. Lindy watched, wagging her tail.
It was starting to look like a real gym, with mats covering the whole floor. They’d pushed her car out, too. When it was the right height, Paul attached the chain. “Need something?”
“Sir Kendall’s gone,” she said.
“You try the cummerbund store?” Tonio joked.
“He’s gone,” she said.
Paul glanced down at her from his perch on the ladder.
Tonio jerked his head at Paul. “You see this guy’s face? That supernatural salve is the shit. I want to use some on my knee.”
“I’m sure the salve is gone, too,” Alix said.
“You mean gone,” Paul said.
“Yes.”
Tonio looked from Paul to her and back to Paul. He mumbled something about grabbing tape from the car and walked off. Paul climbed down from the ladder.
“I’m sorry for last night. I know you’re mad at me,” she said. “But I thought you should know.”
“You sure?”
“All the stuff I ordered is gone,” she said. “All of it. His car. I would’ve heard his car.”
Paul seemed to school his features. Was he happy? She needed him not to be happy.
“Maybe he drove off quietly,” Paul said.
“How? And the necklace was in my sweater pocket on the floor in my room. I locked my door last night, Paul. Not that anyone would’ve even known to look there, anyway. Also, my white boots. And he always makes his tea in the morning, and he didn’t this morning. What if all the stuff from the computer disappeared into thin air? Last night, I scanned some of the pages from that book and sent them to Karen to work on—”
He raised his eyebrows. “You did?”
“Just to be ready—if need be. But, what if I caused him to disappear by emailing the code? Necklaces don’t vanish into thin air. Or cars or boots or men…”
Paul’s expression softened. “You think you emailed the spell and it got activated?”
“I don’t know. Yeah.” She felt a tear stream down her cheek. “All I know is I brought him into the real world and let him enjoy all the tastes and smells and wonders of it, and now he’s back as a picture or whatever. What I did is worse than killing him.” She thought about his Denali, his cucumber sandwiches. “He just wanted to be human.”
Paul furrowed his brow.
“Right. You’re happy.”
“I’m not happy for you to be upset.”
“You’re happy he’s gone,” she accused.
“I won’t pretend I’m not. Considering he’s a walking, talking reminder of the nightmare that was my childhood.”
A roar sounded at the front of the house. Sir Kendall’s car.
A dark look crossed Paul’s face.
“Oh,” she said.
“There you go. All’s well that ends well.”
His words had a bitter edge. She didn’t know what to say. He seemed to be waiting for her to leave.
“Sorry,” she whispered, unsure of what to do with his emotions. She finally turned and headed around the house.
Sir Kendall pulled up to the side of the drive and shut off the engine. He was still alive. Alix watched him get out.
It was good that he was still in the world…somewhat. She felt so confused. And poor Paul. Could she mess with him any more?
Sir Kendall saw her and smiled. “My pet. What are you doing standing there?” Shopping bags dangled from his hands—one from Radio Shack, another from the Malcolmsberg hardware store.
She closed the distance between them, managed a smile. “Where were you? I couldn’t find you.”
“Out shopping. What’s happened, my dear?”
“Nothing.”
“Come now. What is it? You’ve been crying,” he whispered, puzzled.
“Oh, nothing. I just worried that you…that you’d left. It’s silly.”
Sir Kendall pulled away, studying her face. “You think I’d leave without saying goodbye? What kind of a man do you imagine me to be?”
She laughed—too energetically, maybe. She had been a little bit relieved when she’d thought he’d disappeared. “I just couldn’t find you anywhere. And you hadn’t made your tea…”
“I thought I’d stop at the coffee shop for it.
Did you think I’d met with foul play?” He said this lightly, but he watched her, like the answer might be on her face.
“No, not, you know...” She looked toward the house, just to escape his gaze. “I guess I should drink my coffee before I start my brain up. I was feeling dramatic and hung over and well, I don’t know.” She paused; she didn’t want to alarm him, but she was feeling so emotional suddenly. “You’re a good man, Nick. I know you’re just trying do your best…” Tears filled her eyes. Shit, she was probably scaring him.
“My pet, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you worry.” He smiled suavely. “I have formidable resources, such as you can’t even begin to comprehend.”
His formidable resources would be as imaginary as everything else in his life. It seemed so sad. Everything seemed so sad and messed up. Everything was falling apart—because of her! She’d failed Paul utterly—he’d chosen her to confess his story to, and she’d only made him feel miserable. And now poor Sir Kendall was trapped between worlds because of her. Why did she think she could ever help him? She would never be enough—not for a real man or a fake man.
Sir Kendall smiled as if he had not a care in the world. “I’ll leave a note next time, how about that?”
She nodded through her tears. “I’d like that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Paul whomped the heavy bag with his right leg, a powerful round kick. He hauled into it again, then again, filled with the blackest shame.
He’d told her. He’d never wanted another soul to know about his dark past and how fucked up he really was. How they’d beaten him. How much they’d hated him.
He shouldn’t have told her.
And then he’d been so harsh with her. It frustrated him that she couldn’t see the situation clearly, but he didn’t have to go off on her. And then this morning she’d needed a friend. Could he not have transcended his hatred of Sir Kendall for one minute? But he’d never been a good liar, and hell, he’d felt happy Sir Kendall might be gone.
Mr. Real Page 24
