Waylaid

by Kim Harrison

Rachel settled back, eyes wide when Peri used her phone to change the color of her car, shifting it from black to a solar-absorbing white by adjusting the amount of energy running through the Detroit-only paint job. Even the lot’s security light would keep the charge up. “Okay. Now we can go,” Peri said, doing another visual before getting out of the car.

  Rachel followed, the thump of her door loud in the electric-lit night. “You have to make your magic,” she said softly as she watched the glow of the drone in the distance. “That is so sad.” Heels clicking, the tall woman started for the obvious entrance, Jack’s coat bumping about her calves. Peri hesitated, and Rachel turned, her eyebrows high in question. “You’re coming, right?”

  “To watch you step into a magic mirror and vanish? You bet.” Peri reluctantly leaned back into the car, sliding her Glock into the car’s safe and locking it. She’d never get anything so crass past the mall’s security. Feeling naked, she shut her door.

  Rachel eyed her cautiously as she waited for Peri to come even with her. “It’s not a magic mirror. Ley lines are bands of natural focused energy. You don’t think reality is perfectly homogenized, do you? You get that much free energy in one place, you can use it.”

  Peri didn’t answer, instead pushing them into a faster pace. She didn’t like feeling short as she strode along beside Rachel, her two-inch boots doing nothing to bring their heights even. She couldn’t help but notice how people were turning to look at them as they headed for the main doors, even if most of Rachel’s clubbing sparkles and spandex were hidden underneath Jack’s overcoat. Peri had never felt short beside Jack, but he didn’t accompany her to the mall wearing six-inch heels, either.

  “Where do you think we should look for your line?” Peri asked as they hit the double glass doors together, the wind from the equalizing pressure blowing their hair back.

  And then Peri stopped, realizing she’d left Rachel behind.

  She turned, seeing the woman gawking like a goober at the holographic, interactive mannequins outside the first store. It wasn’t busy, so their programming had lots of time to analyze the passing shoppers and change the outfits on the mannequins to something the approaching shopper might like. The more sophisticated ones would actually wave and lure you in with canned, flirtatious chatter. It was obvious that Rachel had never seen them before.

  A worried frown furrowed Peri’s brow. You couldn’t fake shock like this. How could the woman know about electric cars and cell phones, and not about shopping mules? “Rachel?” Peri called, trying to bring the woman back.

  Rachel licked her lips, clearly still amazed. “There are no vampires, witches, or even a Were here. No wonder you have to dress so extreme and be so loud. It’s the only way you can set yourself apart. Everyone is the same.”

  Peri quizzically looked over the loitering teenagers in their Goth black and glow-in-the-dark hair, her gaze rising to the fast-walking people in business suits with their phones to their ears, to the strolling upper-class retirement folks with little bags, the holographic logos on them screaming out their “BUY” message. This was “the same,” according to Rachel? “The line?” Peri prompted, and Rachel seemed to bring herself back, shaken but resolute.

  “I don’t know. Let’s try the center.”

  Wondering if she should just call Bill to pick the woman up, Peri angled them in the right direction. Immediately she slowed as Rachel insisted on lingering at every storefront, pausing at every mule trying to get her to buy a new coat or set of heels. But eventually they reached the center, the large open space five stories tall with a glass ceiling, now dark with night. There was an enormous oak tree in the middle, carefully tended and growing right out of the concrete left over from the exodus. The mall had been repurposed around the defunct Packard car manufacturer as a reminder of how quickly Detroit had been swallowed up when everyone had left. But Peri simply liked seeing a two-story oak tree growing out of a mall.

  “You have a tree growing in your mall,” Rachel said flatly, and Peri shrugged, sitting down at one of the café-like tables under it. The adjacent eatery wasn’t open, making it a somewhat private place even as people passed.

  “You want something to eat?” Peri said suddenly, thinking the pale woman looked even more white. “You don’t look so good.”

  Rachel didn’t sit down, turning in a slow circle with her head up and eyes vacant. Her focus was distant, as if seeing the mall as the derelict Packard factory it had started as. “There’s a line here,” she said, fingers spread wide at her side. “But it’s dead. Like the ones in Arizona.”

  Peri perked up. “Where?” she asked.

  “We’re standing in it,” Rachel said, hands fisting. “It’s right here!”

  She’d meant where in Arizona, but Peri glanced at the passing people, their attention drawn by Rachel’s rising panic. “Maybe you can turn it on?” she suggested, and Rachel’s focus sharpened on her.

  “Yeah. Right,” Rachel said sourly. “The entire demon collective couldn’t turn on their lines, and you think I can turn on Detroit’s?” She took a slow breath, and Peri watched as her panic was pushed out by a shaky determination. It was something Peri had practice with, but her growing feeling of kinship vanished when the woman sat down on the floor amid the empty tables, Jack’s overcoat falling open to show her sequined clubbing dress and black tights.

  “Maybe I can reach Al,” Rachel muttered, eyes fluttering shut.

  “Your partner?” Peri asked, still getting the vibe that the woman was a professional, but professional what?

  Rachel’s eyes cracked open as she snorted. “No. He’s the best frenemy I’ve got. Hang on. This is either going to work or it won’t. I’ll know which in like three seconds.”

  Again Rachel’s eyes shut. Uncomfortable, Peri toyed with the idea of turning her chair to watch her or pretending indifference. People were noticing Rachel, and if she didn’t get up off the floor soon, mall security would send a drone to harass them into moving. “Mall meditation,” Peri said to one curious onlooker. “She’s visualizing she has the money for the shoes she wants.”

  But then Rachel gasped, and Peri’s attention jerked back to her. Rachel’s eyes were open but unseeing, and a curious feeling of time displacement pulled through Peri. She wasn’t drafting, as time was moving as it was supposed to, but the same sensation of dislocated reality suffused her, making her breathless.

  “Al!” Rachel exclaimed to the empty space before her, and a passing man lingered, snapping a nicotine cap between his teeth, curious as Rachel leaned forward and stared intently at nothing. “Detroit,” Rachel said, voice hushed. “But not our Detroit, or the ever-after’s. There are no Inderlanders. Even in hiding. Al, the lines are dead. There’s not enough energy in them for me to get back.”

  The feeling of wrongness grew stronger in Peri, but she couldn’t move, fixated by the look of anguish on Rachel’s face. “Line jump?” Rachel said, her expression shifting to a bitter anger. “With earth magic? I’m going to need something to power it, and the lines are dead. Aren’t you listening? I can’t even light a candle.” She took a ragged breath. “How would I know if there are any mystics? Detecting minute particles of creation energy is not my forte.”

  Peri smiled as more people came to a halt, watching them from the far side of the open area. “Practicing for a play,” Peri explained, but it was clear they weren’t buying it as phones came out to take video. Shit, this is going online.

  “No, I can’t,” Rachel said as Peri dropped her head and tried to hide her face. “The line is just a skeleton.” She hesitated, then blurted, “Jenks? Maybe. He could at least tell me if there are mystics.”

  This is getting better and better, Peri thought as she stood, wanting to stop this. One of the managers of a nearby store was at the entrance to his shop, a phone to his ear as he called them in, probably. Mall security was tight and unforgiving, especially at night.r />
  Rachel was holding out her hands as if in supplication, and, embarrassed, Peri reached for her shoulder, fully intending to yank Rachel to her feet and out of here. A quick 911 to Bill, and someone would be out here in five minutes. Problem solved.

  But when her hand landed on Rachel’s shoulder, Peri froze, her vision wavering with a rainbow of red and blue. Hazed in the thick of it was a man sitting cross-legged opposite Rachel. He had wide shoulders and was wearing a vintage Victorian-green velvet suit, lace at his neck and wrists. Peri’s pulse raced as his eyes met hers and widened in surprise. They were red, the pupils slit like a goat’s. “Y-you’re . . .” Peri stammered, not sure if he was real or not. It felt as if she were rewriting time, but there was only one timeline playing out in her head. Only one.

  The man’s cupped hands were extended, Rachel’s hands wrapping around them. “Curious,” he said, his cultured British voice echoing in Peri’s head as his thin lips moved, and then he faded away.

  Peri let go and backed up, shocked when Rachel brought her cupped hands to her middle, her head down as she opened them up and whispered, “Jenks?”

  Leaning forward, Peri saw a crumpled mass of gauze and glimmer. And then it moved.

  “Holy pixy piss,” a tiny voice said as the glow faded into a four-inch man. “I feel worse than the time I tried to fly coach in a 747.”

  Peri dropped to her knees beside Rachel, unable to look away from his sharply angled, tiny face, his tousled yellow curly hair, and his perfectly proportioned body dressed in a multicolored, tight-fitting body stocking. But that was nothing to her shock at his dragonfly wings carefully folded against Rachel’s cupped hands. “How did you do that?” Peri whispered, and the small winged man stood, wobbly on Rachel’s hands.

  “I’m magic, babe,” he said, cocky as he stretched his wings. “I could fly through a keyhole backward, and that’s kind of what I feel like I did.” He cocked his head and frowned at Rachel’s huge smile. “I can’t smell anyone. You’re right. It’s all humans.”

  “You’re okay?” Rachel gushed, an odd hunch to her as if she were afraid she might hurt him, but was trying to protect him all the same. “How’s the mystic population? Jenks, can you fly?”

  Peri’s pulse was fast, as if she couldn’t seem to get enough air. Had someone hit her with a hallucinogenic dart? Maybe she’d finally snapped. This can’t be real.

  Jenks put his hands on his hips, wings clattering even as he didn’t move. “The mystic population here is low, really low, and scattered. I don’t think they even know they’re a collective.”

  “It’s a fairy!” Peri finally blurted, scrambling back as the winged man rose up into the air, trailing faint silver dust that pooled on Rachel’s hands.

  “I’m a pixy!” he said, threatening to poke her. “Or Jenks, to you. Get it straight, lunker, or wake up dead.”

  Peri stared, fascinated at the glimmer of silver that spilled from him like silk. But then he faltered, and Rachel reached out, giving him somewhere safe to fall to. “Whoa,” Jenks said as he picked himself up off Rachel’s palm. “It’s like there’s no oxygen. The mystic level is really low. These guys need to start talking to each other, or I’m never going to stay in the air.”

  The click of a phone pulled Peri’s attention away. Rachel, too, noticed the growing crowd around them, drawn by a glimmer of dust and Jenks’s sarcastic, high-pitched voice. Hands curving around Jenks, Rachel smoothly got to her feet. “We have to go,” she said softly, and Peri rose as well.

  “Where did you get it?” someone asked, and Peri grimaced at the video being taken. Opti would remove it, but she didn’t like it when they had to clean her image from the Web.

  “Ah, Cincinnati,” Peri said, and Rachel seemed to start. “It works through your glass phone, but you need version eight. It’s a 3-D holo. You should see the one that looks like a unicorn.”

  Rachel relaxed, but Peri could hear tiny complaints coming from her cupped and covered hands. Peri took Rachel’s shoulder, leading her out of the press of people and back into the foot traffic. Immediately Rachel opened her hands, and Jenks made a wobbly flight to the woman’s hoop earrings. He sat down on one of them as if on a swing, holding the band of gold for balance, and Peri’s lips parted. The earrings weren’t a retro fashion statement. They were there for the . . . pixy.

  “Unicorn?” Jenks said, meticulously cleaning a wing, and Rachel shrugged, even as their pace quickened.

  “Maybe they have them here,” Rachel said, pointing out the sim-mules. “Look at that. You ever see anything like that?”

  “No. How about food?” Jenks said, swinging on the earring. “You got peanut butter here? I’m starved.”

  “Ahhh . . .” Peri said, thinking about the busy food court. “We really should go. I’ve got food at my apartment.” Calling Bill was now out of the question. If she was hallucinating, she wanted to go home to sleep it off. If she wasn’t . . . well, if she wasn’t . . . My God, what if I’m not?

  “Anything but honey,” Rachel said, and the tiny man made an indignant huff. “The Turn take it, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Jenks. Everything okay at home?”

  “Al says you were summoned, but we can’t pull you back,” Jenks said, and Peri led them to the exit. Security was following, but they wouldn’t bother them if they were clearly leaving. Wouldn’t even check the facial recognition.

  “And trust me, we’ve been trying,” Jenks added. “Trent would start World War Three if he knew who to blame. There’s not enough ley line on this end to hold your pattern during transition. But even a dead line means there used to be traffic back and forth once. I think it’s been like forever, though. The mystics are really flaky.” He hesitated, and Peri blanched when she realized the pixy was looking at her. “Did she summon you?” he asked, coming across as derisive.

  “No, her partner did. I knocked him out.” They’d reached the main doors, and Rachel pushed them open without hesitation, clearly having seen the security following them and knowing the wisdom of retreat.

  “Rache . . .” Jenks complained. “We’ve talked about this. You gotta stop hitting people until you know who they are.” He hesitated, then added, “Piss on my daisies, it’s cold. I’m about freezing my nubs off here.”

  “I panicked, okay?” Rachel grumbled, her pace slowing to allow Jenks to make the move to her hair. It sounded like an old conversation, confusing Peri even more. How could two such dissimilar people work together so well? Because obviously they did. Peri hadn’t missed Jenks pointing out the security to Rachel or that Rachel knew Jenks’s limitations better than her own. The commitment to each other was there, as strong and enduring as anything she’d ever seen, a bond that could only be forged under great pressure and trust. Like I have with Jack, she mused.

  “Well, you’d better hope he’s okay,” the pixy said, muffled in Rachel’s hair. “We have to duplicate what he did if we’re ever going to get home. If the line is dead on this side, it must have been a mix of earth and ley line magic that got you here.”

  “Demon,” Rachel said around a sigh, and Peri jerked herself back to reality. “Figures. How come it can never be easy?”

  “You’re real,” Peri said, and a burst of pixy dust briefly lit Rachel’s hair to fall about her shoulders and vanish.

  “As an STD, babe,” Jenks said as he poked his head out. “And I’m forever, too. How did you summon Rache with no functioning ley lines? Come on. Give. Was it an earth charm?”

  Earth charm? Ley line? Maybe Jack will know what he’s talking about. “There was wine,” Peri offered, hitting her fob to unlock the car doors. If Jack could see Jenks, too, then maybe she hadn’t gone completely nuts.

  “It’s Trent’s label,” Rachel offered as she got in. “But it’s not his name on it.”

  “No shit,” the pixy said, making Peri wonder if he swore so people would take him serious
ly. “Which one?”

  “Pentimento,” Rachel said, and the pixy whistled. The clear sound struck through Peri like a forgotten memory, and she froze for an instant before slipping inside the car and starting it.

  “Dude,” Jenks said, flying down to the vent and holding on to the direction fins as it blew him back. “Hey, the engine block is still warm.”

  “It’s electric,” Rachel murmured.

  “It’s got a warming engine, though,” Peri added, turning the heat up, as he obviously needed it.

  “Any blood involved in the charm?” Rachel asked reluctantly, and Peri recoiled. “It’s a carrier of intent,” she added. “Even a drop would make a difference.”

  Peri watched, fascinated as the silver dust being blown off Jenks shifted to gold. It was hitting the seat, collecting only to fade as more was added. “Ah, Jack cut his hand on the glass when it broke. He got blood on the accelerator before he dropped it into the wine.”

  “Let me guess,” Rachel said, hand to her forehead. “He drank it.”

  It sounded nasty in hindsight, but honestly, she and Jack had done so much worse that accidentally ingesting a lick of blood was like a drop of water in the ocean. She nodded, making Rachel groan. “He, ah, also recited some bad poetry based on a Simon and Garfunkel song,” Peri offered.

  Jenks let go of the vent fin, Rachel’s hand flashing out to catch him before he hit the seat. But the pixy must be feeling better because he caught the wind under his wings and rose, hovering at the center of the still-parked car. “Witches?” he guessed, and Rachel winced.

  “Ixnay on the itchesway,” Rachel muttered, and Jenks spun to her, hands on his hips.

  “She’s got a pixy in her car, Rache,” he said sarcastically. “You really think her knowing that witches are real in our world is going to freak her out?” He glanced at Peri. “Any more than she already is?” he added.

  Peri stopped rubbing her forehead when she realized Rachel was doing the same thing. I have to be hallucinating, Peri thought. She was going to wake up in Opti’s psychology wing with Jack bringing her cocoa and toast.