by Wen Spencer
“If we take Nikola, we’ll end up having to take Joy, too.” They weren’t sure what taking the magic generator out of Nikola would do. Until they could carefully test it, they’d have to keep one running inside the nanny-bot while the other recharged. So far, they hadn’t been able to separate Joy from the generator, which made them suspect that she needed magic to thrive.
“Gala food!” Joy cried.
Leaving Joy at home seemed even worse than taking her.
“No. We all go. We’re a family.”
* * *
The trick, however, was to get Nikola to the gala at the Waldorf Astoria without their parents noticing. By secreting him in the car before their parents got home and careful redirection from the parking garage to the gala, they were able to keep him quietly following behind, unnoticed. He was being good, although part of it seemed to be that he was overwhelmed by everything. He kept twisting his head, trying to see everything.
When they checked in, however, one of the women manning the ticket window glanced beyond their parents and said, “Oh, that’s not really real, is it?”
As their parents turned, Jillian threw both arms around Nikola and grinned brightly. “No, he’s not real. He’s our nanny-bot.”
“What is he doing here?” their mother cried while their father looked too surprised to speak.
“He’s going to record us all together!” Jillian cried. “We both want to be in the picture—you can’t tell we’re twins if we’re not in the shot together. And we never have any video with Daddy in it when we’re together.”
Which was something their mother complained about constantly.
“We can’t bring him in with us.” Their mother started to scan the lobby.
Nikola cringed away from their mother.
Louise petted his head, trying to comfort him. “Why not? He wouldn’t bite or bark or pee.”
“He’s just one big self-moving camera.” Jillian pointed to a couple with their phones out, taking video. “They’re filming.”
“We’ll have to check him in the coat room,” their mother growled.
“Someone might take him!” Louise cried.
“You should have thought about that before bringing him.” Their mother turned back to the woman at the ticket window. “Where’s the coat-check room?”
“It’s the middle of June.” The woman looked surprised at the question. “We didn’t set up a coat check.”
Their mother stopped scanning to glare down at them. The hand went out. The finger pointed. “You. Two. Are. In. Trouble.”
Louise swallowed hard and gripped Jillian’s hand tightly.
“How much trouble depends on the rest of the night,” their mother continued. “You two be good and charming to Anna Desmarais and much will be forgiven.”
“Do we really have to be nice to her?” Jillian had the courage or stupidity to ask. Louise squeezed her twin’s hand hard in warning.
“Don’t push me now,” their mother growled quietly so no one around them could hear her. “You will be nice if you ever want a life again.”
“She’s been awful to you!” Jillian cried. “Why do you have to be the one that’s nice?”
“Because I am better than her!” their mother snapped. “I do not let other people define me. I am who I am, and that is an intelligent and gracious human being. And as such, I do not drop to the level of bullies and trade insult for insult.”
“But isn’t that just letting them win?” Jillian ignored another squeeze.
“No, it’s called standing your ground without sinking to their level.” Their mother held out her hand to Jillian. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”
With Jillian linking Louise to their mother, they went in search of Anna Desmarais. A cold dread flowered in Louise’s stomach and grew. This was going to be the worst night ever.
They went into a big ballroom full of richly dressed people. At Louise’s eye level, it was a confusing wall of silk dresses and black tuxedoes. They wove right and left, avoiding groups of people standing and talking and laughing. The wall of black parted, and a woman stood alone in the crowd, quietly distanced from everyone.
She noticed them coming. For a moment, she watched their mother approach without a change in expression, like an ivory statue. Then she noticed Jillian, and a slight frown crossed her face.
Louise’s feet stopped moving out of sudden fear. Nikola bumped up against her. For a moment, Jillian was pulled between their mother and Louise. Her twin looked back, impatient, and jerked Louise forward to follow.
“Don’t piss her off,” Jillian whispered. “She’s killing my hand!”
The exchange had drawn the woman’s attention to Louise, and her eyes widened in surprise. Louise felt something leap the space between them, a spark of knowing, powerful and dangerous.
In that moment, she knew that this was Anna Desmarais, her mother’s nemesis. That the woman felt she was smarter than those around her. That she felt she was able to do anything she wanted, take anything she needed, and go through anyone that stood in her way. Louise knew because there was an answering echo inside her, a resonance of being. She recoiled as if suddenly seeing a mirror and it showed how selfish and wrong everything she’d done in the last few weeks had been. What she could become.
Did Anna see that Louise was just like her? Could she guess what Louise had done in the last few weeks?
“Mrs. Desmarais.” Their mother pulled them into a line before Anna. Their father was trying hard to look at ease and failing. “This is my family. My husband, George. Jillian and Louise.”
“What beautiful girls,” the woman murmured without taking her eyes from Louise. “Yours?” The tone was polite, but it put shivers down Louise’s spine.
“Yes, mine,” their mother said coldly. “I have the stretch marks to prove it.”
“Ah, I didn’t realize you had children. Twins, no less? Are they clever, just like their mother?”
Her mother lifted her chin as if sensing a hidden insult in the question. “Yes, they are. They go to Perelman School for the Gifted.”
“Perelman?” Anna cried. “Wasn’t that the school that had so many children hurt by the bomb?”
“Yes, but they were nowhere near the flying glass. They’re putting on Peter Pan for the school play. They were in the art rooms on the top floor checking on props when the bomb went off.”
“I’m Peter Pan.” Jillian beamed full-on cute at Anna. “We’re fraternal twins, not identical. I want to be a movie director when I grow up. Louise wants to be a naturalist. We’re both huge fans of Nigel Reid. We’re really excited about meeting him tonight. Thank you so much for the tickets!”
Louise nodded, glad that Jillian was handling it. Which one of them was the brave one? She added a quiet “Thank you” and forced herself to smile.
Anna smiled at the thank-you, but her eyes remained troubled. “I’ve heard that the art gallery might still be a target for the terrorists since the queen’s delegation returned to Elfhome.”
“Vance Roycroft is no longer a threat.” Their father avoided saying the man had actually been killed in a shoot-out.
Jillian continued with megawatt-level cute. “Our friend Zahara was late that day. She and her little brother were at the front door—the good side of the front door—when it went off. Boom!”
Louise nudged Jillian to get her to stop talking about the bomb. It felt wrong to be talking about it so casually. Zahara and her brother had nearly been killed.
“Zahara is Mbeya’s daughter.” Their mother stooped to name-dropping.
“They haven’t caught all the members of that terrorist group.” Anna looked honestly worried. “Are you sure it’s safe for them to go to Perelman with all that’s going on in the city? Maybe they would be safer at a boarding school.”
“That is what the terrorists want,” their mother said. “Us so frightened that we run and hide.”
“You’re making a statement with your daughters’ lives,�
� Anna said.
Their mother straightened to full warrior-queen height. “I feel safer with them home with us, where I can check on them anytime.”
“Do you have children?” Their father tried to run interference on a brewing fight.
Both women gave him a hard look.
Anna relented first. “Yes, I do. They’re all older than even you, and unlikely to give me any grandchildren. My sons have a genetic disorder, and my two girls are both grown women who chose lives that didn’t include husband and children.”
“Oh, I’m—I’m sorry.” Their father gave their mother a slightly panicked look.
“You should rethink your decision on Perelman,” Anna said. “Children are your greatest treasure. When you lose your children, it tears a hole in your heart. Without my children to fill it up, my house is too big and empty. I would just rattle around it at night if I stayed home, so I go to events like this to fill my time.”
She laughed as if this was a joke, and their parents were forced to join in. This night, Louise realized, wasn’t the end of the war, but the start of a new battle. She could take no more; she attempted a rescue. “Can we go find Nigel Reid and get his autograph?”
“We have Tesla with us!” Jillian reminded their parents. “So you could keep on talking.”
Louise wanted to kick Jillian; couldn’t she see that their parents needed to be saved?
Jillian caught her glare and patted her purse, reminding Louise that they wanted to hand over the gossamer call in person. They wouldn’t be able to do that with their parents in tow. They’d assumed that at some point one of them would slip free, but it would be more fun if both of them got to talk to him.
“Adult conversation is so boring to them at that age,” Anna said. “Let them go. We have things to discuss.”
“We do?” Their mother nearly growled the question.
“I have a Christmas event in mind at the Natural History Museum that I think your company would be perfect for.”
Their mother took a deep breath and flicked her hand, dismissing them. “Yes, go on.”
Jillian caught Louise’s hand and dragged her way. Louise wished she didn’t feel like she was abandoning her parents to evil.
* * *
There was face-painting, balloon animals, clowns and jugglers, and herds of squealing kids. Since they still had time before the meeting, they got their faces painted on the theory it was like a mask. The artist did them both as Bengal Tiger cubs that complimented their yellow dresses and black belts. As an additional precaution, they went past the buffet table and loaded a plate full of cookies for Joy, just in case the baby dragon woke up.
They had picked out one of the smaller meeting rooms that they knew would be empty and hacked into Waldorf Astoria’s event scheduling system to make sure it would be unlocked for the night. Louise led, still uneasy from her encounter with Anna Desmarais, the uncomfortable feeling of looking in a mirror and seeing something ugly reflected. All they had done to set up their meeting was have the room unlocked. They couldn’t expect a private conversation with Nigel any other way; the stars were all being mobbed by crowds of excited fans who were being lined up and timed for their few moments of interaction. They only planned to do good things, so a certain level of ruthlessness could be forgiven—right?
Distracted by her thoughts, she was off-balance when they walked into the room and found Nigel waiting. He’d taken advantage of the table and had a slickie, a tablet, and a phone laid out. His blond hair was better contained than when he was on camera, and he wore a tuxedo instead of his normal bush khakis and white linen shirt. There was no mistaking, though, his merry blue eyes and gentle smile.
He looked up, surprised. “Ach, what bonnie wee lasses!”
They circled the table like tigers, checking the room for spy equipment. Louise doubted that there would be any, but Jillian had wanted to be sure.
“I’m sorry, but this is going to be a private meeting.” His Scottish burr faded as he gained control of his surprise. “Go on back to the party. I’ll be out in a short while.”
“You’re meeting with us,” Louise said.
“I am now?” He smiled despite the fact he didn’t seem to believe them.
“Yes, we need to talk.” Jillian positioned Nikola by the door. “Watch the door.”
“Watch it do what?” Nikola whispered, apparently unsure if he was supposed to talk in front of Nigel or not.
Jillian covered her face with her hand just as their mother would. “Just warn us if someone is coming in.”
Nigel stood up. “Lassies—”
“We’re Lemon-Lime JEl-Lo,” Louise stated before he could order them out again. “We’re the ones you’re meeting with.”
“You’re . . .” he started but trailed off, looking puzzled.
“Lemon-Lime JEl-Lo!” Jillian snapped.
“He was probably expecting someone older,” Louise pointed out.
“Well, yes, and taller.” He came to crouch down in front of them so they were eye to eye. “You’re truly Lemon-Lime?”
He seemed so disappointed.
“We have the gossamer call like we promised you,” Louise cried.
“I’m sure you do.” His voice was heavy with sadness. “It’s just that when I saw your last video, I thought that you must know more than the news we got from Elfhome prior to Startup. I thought you knew that the viceroy survived the attack on him.”
“You can’t tell anyone that we don’t know!” the twins cried.
“We do know who attacked him,” Louise said.
“At least some of the people involved,” Jillian said.
“They’re doing a lot of horrible things like kidnapping children and killing scientists,” Louise continued. “And they want the quarantine zone expanded. They attacked Windwolf, and now they’re using his disappearance to push through the vote.”
Nigel made a surprised, pained sound like someone had punched him in the stomach. “So humans murdered the viceroy?”
“He’s not dead!” Louise felt sure of it, although she knew that she couldn’t prove it. “Everyone has to stop acting like he is.”
“And we’re not sure what they are,” Jillian added. “They might look human, but we don’t think they really are.”
“They might be elves,” Louise said.
“Evil anti-elves,” Jillian cried.
Louise winced. The extremely short version sounded stupid. She wasn’t sure, however, how to condense three years of secretive information gathering. “The Museum of Natural History has an exhibit of things created by elves found on Earth over the last two thousand years. The elves were getting here via natural ‘hyperphase gates’ found in cave systems; basically magic-created fissures between the two universes. These pathways were their equivalent to the Silk Road. Elves used to come to Earth to sell these items. Around two hundred and forty years ago, they had a war with someone. Someone so powerful that they destroyed all the pathways between the worlds to end the war.”
Nigel tilted his head in confusion. “I visited the exhibit yesterday. I noticed that they didn’t explain how the items ended up on Earth. How do you know all this?”
“Some of it is deductive reasoning,” Louise admitted. “Windwolf already knew English when Director Maynard met him during the first Startup. He had copies of maps that King Charles the Second issued to the Hudson Bay Company when he founded their first expedition in 1668. His copy also showed an English trading post where Pittsburgh stands. It dates the map between 1740, when William Trent established that outpost, and 1758, when Fort Duquesne was built by the French.”
“I never heard that about the map before,” Nigel said.
Jillian waved it off as unimportant. “One of the EIA archive videos from Maynard’s first contact with Windwolf has a close-up of the map. The EIA has restricted access to their videos, so no one has actually studied them at length.”
“I see.” Nigel clearly was afraid to ask how they’d gotten hold
of it.
It seemed safe to lump the codex in with data they’d seen but didn’t own. “We’ve also found the journal of an elf who was in France during the 1700s. We’re not sure when he arrived, but he was there for several years prior to being killed in the French Revolution in the 1790s. When he attempted to travel back to Elfhome, the way was unexpectedly blocked. He traveled to several points and was dismayed to find all the pathways closed off.”
“Where did you find that?” Nigel asked.
“We can’t say,” Louise said. “There are a lot of things we’ve done that weren’t technically legal.”
“So let’s just not go there—okay?” Jillian gave Louise an annoyed look for bringing up the codex in the first place. “The thing is, there’s no way to know how many elves were trapped on Earth or what side of the war that they were on. But the ones we saw didn’t look like elves. We’re only guessing that they were because they talked about being alive for hundreds of years.”
“The important thing is that they have moles in the EIA and the United Nations and possibly among the police force in Pittsburgh.”
“You have proof of this?” Nigel asked.
“Nothing we can show you,” Louise said. “But this isn’t a guess. We know this for sure.”
Jillian nodded. “It’s why you haven’t been able to go to Elfhome. They’re using the EIA to block visas of anyone that they don’t want in Pittsburgh. But NBC bypassed their normal channels and pushed your paperwork through.”
“We don’t know why they’ve been trying to keep you out, but they don’t want you there. They might try and kill you.”
“But you need to go,” Jillian said. “The people in Pittsburgh have no idea that they’re about to be in the middle of war.”
“A war between . . . ?”
“The elves and the anti-elves. The anti-elves have been building up an army—someplace—and they’ve been kidnapping scientists to make a gate like the one in orbit, only on land.” Jillian took his tablet and linked it with theirs. “Here’s a list of scientists they’ve kidnapped. We know that everyone on this list is dead, except for Kensbock. We’re not sure they’re the ones that took him; he wasn’t doing the same type of work. We also know that the NSA is looking into the kidnappings, but we don’t think they’ve realized who is behind them.”
