Heroine's Journey

by Sarah Kuhn

  “Bea! Leah!” Charlotte called from up front. Her usual monotone was slightly elevated. “People are starting to arrive for the Art Jam.”

  Leah and I hustled up front to see several dozen people streaming in the front door, exclaiming in wonder at the decorations and the crafting stations and the reams of butcher paper spread out on the floor.

  “I’ll just run this over to the café,” Leah muttered, waving the book she was holding.

  “We are not done talking,” I muttered back.

  “Oh, I know,” she called over her shoulder.

  I finally set the squirming Pancake down on the floor, and he gleefully set off in the direction of the butcher paper. As I stood up, I did a double take. Evie and Aveda were filing in behind the stream of Art Jam enthusiasts, looking wary and alert. I crossed the room and planted myself in front of them.

  “Why are you here?” I demanded. “I told you: nothing is likely to go down tonight, now that Poet appears to have fucked off to the Otherworld. We’re all set for an evening of pretty freakin’ mundane shenanigans, and there are pretty much zero ways that I, Thrill-Seeking Terror that I am, can get into trouble. Especially since you put me on probation and all.”

  “Relax, tiny terror,” Aveda said, giving me a look.

  “I’m taller than you are,” I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “We came here to observe, just in case,” Aveda said. “You never know what might go down—sometimes a break in a case happens when you least expect it.”

  “Another superheroine lesson?” I said.

  “Yes.” She smiled at me, surprised, then glanced at Evie, quickly schooling her features into something more stern.

  “We’ll stay out of your way,” Evie murmured, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

  “Fine,” I huffed.

  I turned and stomped off, trying to quash the irrational feeling that I was being babysat for no reason. People were crowding around the craft tables, chattering amongst themselves and perusing the supplies. A hum of excited energy permeated the air, stoking my irritation. I tried to shake it off.

  “Bebe.” Leah appeared by my side and poked me in the arm. “I saw Evie and Aveda come in; does that mean we’re expecting a Poet appearance?”

  “No,” I grumbled. “As far as I can tell, they just showed up to be annoying. Like your new best friend Nicole over there.” I nodded at Nicole, who had returned to the bookstore area and was perched on the pink couch, looking totally out of place as she watched everyone else sift through craft supplies.

  Leah blew out a frustrated breath. “So are you willing to actually listen to me about that now? Nicole and I got to talking while you were off with Sammy one night. She lost her job at the, um, paralegal place. That’s why she’s always here and that’s why she doesn’t buy the books—she can’t afford them right now. And as for all the ‘tude . . . I mean, she’s embarrassed. She’s overcompensating for feeling like nothing. She still hasn’t told her parents. She has no idea what to do next, and she feels like a failure. This place, these books—they’ve provided a sort of safe space for her. And isn’t that kind of what this bookstore is all about?”

  “But she’s always been awful,” I protested. “She’s awful with or without a job. She—”

  “Is it so impossible for you to accept that maybe she’s changed?” Leah said. “Aren’t you always going on about how much you’ve changed over the years, how it isn’t fair for Evie to judge you for all the stupid shit you did when you were younger?”

  “Not that that ever stops her,” I muttered, shooting Evie and Aveda a look. They’d positioned themselves on the other side of the bookstore and were “casually” leaning against a vintage armoire Leah had restored and filled with tiny knick-knacks for sale. They were really bad at looking inconspicuous. I noticed some of the Art Jammers whispering and casting starstruck looks their way. Great. So not only were they annoying, they were also pulling focus from the event.

  I turned back to Leah. “I just don’t understand why of all the people in all the world, you have to pick her—”

  “Bebe.” Leah threw me a look of extreme frustration. “We’re not ready to pledge our eternal souls to each other or something. We haven’t even kissed. Or progressed beyond flirty talking about books and deep, soul-searching conversation about what the hell we want to do with our lives. But I like her, Bebe. I really, really do.”

  “I’ve tried to set you up so many times,” I protested. “Presented you with so many better options.”

  “I don’t want any of those options,” Leah said, shaking her head. “I don’t want someone to be presented to me, I want to choose my own person, of my own free will. Who also has their own free will.”

  “They have free will,” I said. “I just offer a little encouragement—”

  “Until they do something you disagree with or that annoys you,” Leah said. She stepped closer to me and touched my arm. “I appreciate how protective you are of me. And of all the people you care about. But you’ve got to be careful with that mind mojo stuff. You’re inching toward a place you don’t want to go. Like, kind of a villain place. Where you just make people do whatever you want because it means you’ll get the result you want. I don’t think that’s you, Bebe—that’s not the hero you want to be.”

  “You seemed fine with my mind mojo before,” I said, feeling stung. “You actively encouraged it, in fact, when I was using it on people like that annoying Ichabod guy. What changed? Are you saying all this because I used it on the suddenly wonderful Nicole?”

  “Actually, yes,” she said. “But not because it was her. That’s the first time I’ve seen you, like, control someone. Dictate to them what you wanted them to do. And you didn’t even think twice about doing it. It was freaky.”

  I blew out a long breath, frustration overwhelming me. “Look,” I said, trying to get back to something resembling the point, “I am protective of you. And that’s why I’m trying to discourage you from this Nicole thing. Because I know she’ll be awful to you, she’ll hurt you—”

  “Actually, you don’t know that,” Leah said, her gaze going cool. “You don’t know her at all now. And honestly, if you’re worried about people getting hurt, you need to take a good, hard look at your own love life.”

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “Me and Sam? You called it from the beginning—we’re enjoying the excitement of sleeping together. The fun for fun’s sake. I’m leaning hard into the ridiculousness of it all. And when it’s done, it’s done, and things will go back to normal, and . . . I mean, are we being weird to you, Lee? Because once we decide to end this thing—”

  “Bebe.” Leah squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingertips to her temples, like she’d just been walloped with a monster migraine. “You guys are ridiculous in all the ways. I can’t even begin to describe it. But whatever this thing was when you started it . . . well, it’s clearly not where you’re at now.”

  I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

  She met my eyes. “For someone who spends so much time playing with other people’s minds, you sure don’t know your own.”

  “Leeee-aaah.” I gave her a look. “Can you please quit with the inspirational poster catchphrases and—”

  “Bea.”

  Leah and I both whipped around to see Evie approaching, her face tense. Aveda was right behind her, mouth set in a grim line.

  “What?” I exploded, my irritation at them and Leah and stupid Nicole boiling over. “What am I doing wrong now? And how can you tell I’m doing something wrong from all the way across the room—”

  “It’s not that,” Evie interrupted. At an apparent loss for words, she pointed toward the front entrance. Where Poet, Kathy Kooper, and freaking Bernard from the hospital were strolling in, looking like, Oh, hey, we just happened to be walking by, and can anyone take part in
this delightful Art Jam? Or are possibly evil assholes with possibly evil connections to the for-sure evil Otherworld specifically banned?

  My jaw dropped.

  “That’s Bernard, right?” Evie hissed. “And I haven’t actually seen Kathy Kooper in years, but I’m assuming that’s her? So that third person must be—”

  “Yup,” I said. “That’s Poet.”

  Our evil trio stopped in the entryway and surveyed the scene, their faces dispassionate.

  “Leah,” Aveda said, “we need to get all the civilians out of here. But let’s try to do it quietly, without any chaos or stampeding. Can you go around to all these little clusters and tell them, I don’t know, that Art Jam has to be postponed to another night?”

  “Check,” Leah said, her eyes darting around. Her face was pinched, and she looked like she was panicking but trying to shove it down. “Um, have any of you seen—”

  “Pancake,” I said, realizing the little dog was flitting around the store and could easily get trampled if people started freaking out and bulldozing toward the exits. “Don’t worry, Lee, I’ll find him. Evie and Aveda, if you guys want to go talk to our pals up there, I can reach out with my mind and see if I can find them in the . . . what would you call it? The mental space where we’ve been having our little skirmishes. The brain plane. While securing the puppy.”

  “Good multitasking,” Aveda said, nodding approvingly. “And Bea, if this does end up escalating into a battle-type situation, consider your probation temporarily lifted. Right, Evie?”

  “Well . . .” Evie’s gaze slid to the side. “She could also evacuate with everyone else.”

  “Bea’s special talents could prove to be essential to whatever’s about to happen,” Aveda said, her voice firm. “And anyway, we may need all hands on deck. I’m going to text Shruti.”

  “All right,” Evie said reluctantly. “Probation lifted—for now. Let’s go talk to these jerks, Annie.”

  Evie and Aveda made their way up to the front, where the jerks in question were still surveying the scene, not doing anything particularly evil.

  “Bebe.” Leah’s fingers dug into my arm. Her eyes were darting all over the place. “Please . . .”

  “I’ll find Pancake,” I repeated, gently prying her fingers from my arm. “Lee, I know we were just, uh . . .”

  “Having a strongly worded discussion?” she said.

  “Yes, okay, let’s go with that. But I’m always here for you. And for that side-eyeing, bacon-snarfing, pain-in-the-ass little puppy. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, her face relaxing a little. “Wait. Are you mind-mojo-ing me right now? Trying to get me to calm down?”

  “No,” I said firmly. “Now go start telling people to get the hell out of here, and we’ll talk about your terrible taste in crushes and incorrect assessment of my love life later.”

  She looked like she wanted to respond to that, but settled for nodding and turning to head for one of the crafting clusters. I took it as a win.

  I scanned the crowd for Pancake. Where had I last seen him? Oh, right. Heading off to gleefully fuck with the butcher paper. I wended my way around all the people who were now sprawled on the floor, painting and gluing and papier-mâché-ing to their heart’s content. Keeping an eye out for the pup, I reached out with my mind, feeling around for people trying to put up mental brick walls or attack.

  “Oops, sorry!” I exclaimed to a woman after nearly tripping over her. My multitasking needed work.

  I was getting nothing, though. The brain plane appeared to be barren. I shot a look at the entrance, where Evie and Aveda were engaged in conversation with Kathy, Poet, and Bernard. They didn’t seem to be arguing, exactly, but Aveda had her hands on her hips in one of her trademark intimidating stances. The set of Evie’s shoulders was tense, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, like she was just waiting to let loose with that fire.

  I finally spotted Pancake, who had plopped himself down on a small expanse of butcher paper and was enthusiastically gnawing on his foot while dedicated Art Jammers painted around him.

  “Oh, Pancake,” I said with a sigh. “Your mom is worried sick about you. And you’ve got paint on your tail.” He gave me a baleful look as I scooped him up, cradling him to my chest. “You’re much more of a tiny terror than I am. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

  I started to turn back around to check on Evie, Aveda, and the evil trio—and that’s when it happened.

  It was like a massive semi trailer-truck barreling at top speed slammed directly into my brain.

  “Wha—” I gasped out loud, falling to my knees. Stars danced in front of my eyes and my vision blurred in and out. I clutched Pancake to my chest, even though he was barking and squirming up a storm. I tried to throw up some kind of protection, my own mental brick wall, but then the semi was slamming into my brain again, over and over and over . . .

  I writhed on the ground, trying to curl myself into a ball, like that would somehow keep the relentless pain out. Fuck. Fucking frakballs. That hurt. A scream tore itself from my throat, but I couldn’t even hear it. I just felt it, deep in my chest, in my gut, in my everywhere.

  Then the pain stopped. My vision started to clear and the world started to drift back into focus in dribs and drabs. I felt Pancake, warm against my chest. I saw people running for the exits. I heard Leah yelling at them to please calm down, head for the café, they could barricade the café . . . What was she talking about? Why were people running? What was happening?

  There was a slight ringing in my ears and my vision was still blurring in and out. I tried to shake my head, but my movements felt slow and labored, like when I was in the Otherworld. Wait . . . was I in the Otherworld? I felt something nudge against my brain, and I pushed back hard. It flitted away. Emboldened, I reached out again, trying to find the evil trio on the brain plane. They weren’t there, but something else was. What was that?

  It felt like a bright, glowing light. And it wanted me to grab on to it. I reached out with my mind and embraced it, and then my ears started to ring even more.

  Then Evie’s scream pierced through the ringing: “Annie, move her, fucking move her or it’s going to—”

  Suddenly I was lifted off the ground and swept to the side. I slammed into a bookcase and dropped to the ground, still holding on to Pancake for dear life.

  “Ow!” I yelped.

  “Sorry!” Aveda called out.

  Being knocked into the bookcase seemed to shake off the last of my disorientation, and the room came back into focus. I was on the ground, facing the bookcase I’d just crashed into, and Pancake was still in my arms, barking his tiny head off.

  I scrambled to my feet and whipped around just in time to see a gigantic porcelain unicorn stomping its way through Historical Romance. For the second time that night, my jaw dropped.

  STOMP STOMP STOMMMMMMPPPPP

  The unicorn was almost as tall as the ceiling and it obliterated everything it smashed into with its oversized glittery hooves. I swallowed hard, trying to get my bearings, trying to take in everything I could about the scene. Pancake was still barking his head off. No way I could put him down now, he’d be smashed to fuzzy smithereens.

  Evie was by the entrance of the store, shooting fireballs at the gigantic unicorn. They smacked into its legs and the porcelain seemed to be melting slowly—but only enough to slow it down, not stop it entirely. Aveda was next to the vintage armoire, sizing up the giant beast. Probably trying to figure out if there was any way in hell she could kick its ass; it was likely too gigantic for her to trap in a sustained telekinetic hold. My eyes darted to the café, and I was relieved to see the barricade between the café area and bookstore had been pulled down. Hopefully all civilians were safe behind it. It looked like Evie, Aveda, and I (and Pancake) were the only ones left in the store area.

  Where had the evil trio
gone? Surely they weren’t locked up in the café with all those innocent people . . .

  CRASH

  The gigantic unicorn smashed its hoof into the vintage armoire, breaking it to bits.

  “Gah!” Aveda yelped, jumping out of the way. “Goddammit, I wish Shruti was here. Maybe she could wrap her hair around this asshole My Little Pony.”

  “It’s more like a My Not-So-Little Pony,” Evie said ruefully, sending out another series of fireballs.

  “Evie, stay back!” Aveda growled. “Don’t get in that thing’s way!”

  “I know, I know,” she said, sounding a bit weary.

  Huh. That was odd. Usually Evie snapped at Aveda if she felt like she was trying to “protect” her by keeping her out of the fray. It was one of the oldest parts of their dynamic. Why was she being so . . . docile?

  “Guys—Evie, Aveda! I’m over here!” I called out, stepping forward. “Where’d the evil trio go? Did one of Charlotte’s porcelain unicorns actually come to life and inflate itself and . . . Holy shit, this is like the Wave Organ, isn’t it? Or the pens at the hospital? Sorry, that’s probably too many questions—”

  “That is exactly what happened, Bea,” Aveda said, darting out of the unicorn’s way again. “It almost stomped on you, actually, but I telekinesised you out of the way just in time. As for the trio—”

  “They disappeared!” Evie shrieked.

  STOOOOOOMPPPPPPP

  The unicorn smashed its foot into the ground so hard, I felt the entire building shake.

  “Disappeared?!” I said.

  “Right after Leah got everyone into the café and pulled down the barricade,” Aveda called out. “They were still out here with us, then Evie and I turn around to deal with the massive fucking unicorn destroying the bookstore, and poof, they’re gone.”

  “Fuck.” I shook my head, trying to process. Pancake whimpered in my arms. All right, I’d process all this later. Right now was the time for action. I stepped forward, made sure my grip on Pancake was firm, and gathered up the heady brew of confusion and fear that was roiling inside of me. Then I opened my mouth and screamed.