Prom Knight

by Ben Reeder

  “You’re staying here? What if the Furies attack again?”

  “They will not,” Vortigern said. He smiled, somehow grim and smug at the same time. “The Erinyes are creatures of torment, not of battle. They seek victims, not opponents. Aside from that, they can be patient and cunning. They know that this place is well protected, now. They’ll be wary of attacking it again without good reason. It is the others I worry about.”

  “Well, since they didn’t talk to us, they’re actually the only ones who are relatively safe from the Erinyes. If there was an oath, they didn’t break it.”

  “So, they’re going to get away with it?”

  “Oh, Hells no,” Dr. C said. “We uncovered enough evidence for the police to charge them with conspiracy to commit a lot of murder. Once they get far enough away from here, Collins has the cops waiting for them. I don’t think they’re going to see the outside of a jail cell for a while. Also, Collins was going to follow the driver and see where he went before he reeled him in. If anyone was going to run to the next level of the chain of command, he’s the one who would do it. So, for now, we wait. And you go home.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. If everything was cool, then I had more time for the fun things in life. In less time than it took them to convince me to leave, I was out the door and in the Mustang. The rumble of her V8 engine was like a lullaby, soothing away the rough edges the day had left on my soul while I drove home. And if I overshot my exit on the freeway to enjoy the speed my trusty iron horse could build on a straightaway, no one else had to know about it.

  Eventually, I pulled into the driveway beside Mom’s not-quite-new van. She’d traded her old VW van in for a more modern mini-van with sliding doors on both sides that opened with the push of a button. She had praised the Goddess for those doors more than once. The screen door slammed closed while I was getting my backpack and gear out of the trunk, and I had a sneaking suspicion that I was about to fall victim to Dee’s favorite new game: the jump scare. Sure enough, she leaped at me from behind the van when I rounded the corner, letting out an incoherent yell.

  “Gah!” I said. I jumped and threw my arms up, going for melodrama but actually coming down more in slapstick territory.

  “You weren’t surprised,” Dee said. She came all the way out, in her black jeans and her BBC t-shirt, clutching her sonic screwdriver toy in her left hand.

  “No, you really scared me,” I said. “I jumped and everything.”

  “Liar. How’d you know I was there?”

  “Heard the screen door slam, little Miss Jump Scare,” I said. “And, you’ve tried to scare the past five nights.”

  “It worked the first couple of times,” she protested. We walked toward the door, her little hand in mine.

  “Well, yeah, but you have to change things up after that. So, what’s for dinner?”

  “Maggots and brains!” she answered as she opened the screen door.

  “My favorite! Did Mom at least put toadstools in it?” From the kitchen, I could smell the rich aroma of Mom’s cooking, and it didn’t even come close to the vile concoction we were describing with such enthusiasm. More like beef tips over rice.

  “Toadstools and green slime!” Dee said.

  “Stop that, both of you,” Mom said from the kitchen. “Dierdre, go wash your hands. And put that sonic thing away. I don’t want to see it at the table.” She let go of my hand and started up the stairs, then turned and pointed her sonic screwdriver at me. It buzzed in her hands.

  “Take that, alien shapeshifter!”

  “What kind of Time Lord are you?” I said, tapping at my temple. “Don’t you know that thing doesn’t have a setting for wood?”

  “I’m not a Time Lord, I’m a Time Lady. And I was just making sure you weren’t an alien in disguise. I guess you really are my brother. I was kind of hoping for the shapeshifter.” She turned and bounded the rest of the way upstairs, and I headed into the kitchen.

  “How was your day?” Mom asked from the stove. Our kitchen was the heart of the house, done in pale green with lots of dark wood and decorated with potted plants in every window and corner. The entire room smelled like a spice cabinet, since my Mom didn’t just grow decorative ferns. Sage, mint, thyme and a dozen other herbs grew in this room, not to mention in her garden.

  “Heroic, aggravating, terrifying, frustrating and I’m glad I’m home.” I stopped to give her a quick peck on the cheek before I went to the back door.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of adjectives,” she said. “You’ll have to tell me the details a little later.” I nodded and opened the back door.

  As soon as I stepped out on the back yard, a pair of brindle paws landed on my chest, followed by a long, wet tongue across my cheeks. “Hi, Junkyard,” I laughed. He dropped back down on all fours and turned in a circle, then let out a short bark. “I’m happy to see you, too,” I said while I opened the lid on the plastic food container and grabbed the plastic container I’d recycled for his food scoop. Kibble hit the pan, and his nose was buried in it.

  “Hey,” Ren said as he flew down from his tree. I looked up from petting Junkyard’s flanks and nodded to him. “Did you find anything out?”

  “Not really, but we think we have a couple of leads to follow. Everything cool here?”

  “Mostly,” he said. “There’s a tribe of faeries that moved in down the street at that little park, and they’re getting bold. Had to run a couple of them off when they started trying to bully your brownies.”

  “Good work,” I told him. “Not a fan of the little pukes. How’s your tree house coming?”

  “Just finished the last of the roof today. But I need a few things for my workshop.” His voice softened a little and he bit his lip. Purple crept into the edges of his wings, a sure sign he was embarrassed.

  “Sure, you know I’ll get whatever you need.”

  “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Ren, you more than carry your weight around here. You already take care of Mom’s garden, you’ve kept all the vermin out of the garden and the house, plus you take care of Junkyard when I’m at school. And today makes…well, at least the second time you’ve saved my ass. Anything you need is yours, man.”

  “Thanks,” he said, the purple turning to a pale pink. “I try to be a good servant. And you treat me better than anyone ever has.”

  “We’ve gone over this before, Ren. The servant thing this is just a necessary fiction. As far as anyone in this house is concerned, you’re not a servant; you’re family. If it wasn’t for that stupid treaty, you’d be free for real.”

  “It’s hard to remember that sometimes,” he said, dropping to perch on Junkyard’s back. “It’s been more than seventy years since the treaty was signed, and … well, it’s been a long time, and no one has ever treated us like you do.”

  “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to have everyone think you’re something you’re not. Do you have a list of stuff you need?”

  “Just a few more hacksaw blades and a couple of files. Oh, and could you get me a couple of those cheap little solar yard lights and some copper wire?”

  “Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow.” I stood up and opened the door. Junkyard gobbled up the last of his kibble, crunching it as he went in, and Ren took to the air and headed for the little cupboard he’d built and installed next to Mom’s spice rack. Dee was already at the table, her plate made, waiting for the rest of us. I waited as Mom made her own plate, then let Ren flit over and fill his own small bowl, a miniature green Tupperware bowl he’d dug up at a thrift store. Once he had some rice and some vegetables, he zipped over to his chair, leaving me to take pretty much whatever was left. We didn’t have much in the way of leftovers most nights.

  There was a moment of silence once I sat down. We didn’t say grace over our food, but we were all thankful for it. Even after a year and a half of living with Mom, I still remembered what it was like to go hungry most nights. After hearing my stor
ies about living with Dulka, Mom and Dee were certainly more aware of how much they had to be grateful for. And Ren…sprites were, after all, legally slaves in the Veiled world, ever since the Unseiligh, or UnSeelie Court had thrown them under the bus after the Second World War. He’d seen more years of hunger and abuse than I had.

  “Blessings,” Mom said, which was our cue to eat. Beside me, Ren used a small measuring spoon and a shrimp fork to eat. He’d cut down an old high chair and replaced the plastic tray with an insert from an antique table, giving himself a table of his own that was the same height as the regular table.

  After the way my day started, I was really glad to have moments like this, and to be self-aware enough to know how good they actually were. I imagined there was a girl from Truman who knew exactly how good life was, and I tried to imagine what she might be doing with her night.

  After Dee went to bed, Mom turned to me from her chair in the living room. “I saw the news today,” she said, her tone casual. “Something about a report of men with guns going into Truman High School, but almost no one saw anything. Was that you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, and I told her everything that had happened that morning and after school. “Dr. C thinks the last one will talk tomorrow.”

  “Then the Furies attacked before you talked to any of them?” Mom asked. I nodded. “That’s curious. In Greek mythology, you had to actually do something that broke an oath, not just think about it or be willing to break it. I guess it depends on the oath, but it’s still strange. Maybe one of them did something to tip the authorities off or something.” I gave that some thought. We had been assuming the Furies were attacking because of something related to us catching them, but what if one of them was already trying to blow the whole deal?

  The line of thinking kept my brain busy until it was time for bed. With Mom in her room and Dee sleeping the sleep of the innocent, I crawled out my window with my dark phone and texted Shade. Moments later, my phone was buzzing in my hand.

  “Hey, beautiful,” I said.

  “How’s my sexy man?” Whatever my problems, the sound of her voice was enough to make them all fade away, and for a while, we could be something like normal.

  “Looking forward to Saturday night. We’re going to look so damn good.”

  “You have your tuxedo?”

  “I pick it up Thursday after school. How did the dress thing go today?”

  “It was good. It fits like a glove, and it looks so hot.”

  “You could make burlap look sexy,” I said.

  “Should I go with burlap instead of satin and lace?”

  “You already went to all that trouble to get this one,” I said. “Maybe next time.” She laughed, and the night got a little sweeter.

  “If you’re good, I’ll wear something nice under it,” she purred.

  “And what if I’m bad?”

  “Then maybe I won’t wear anything special under it.”

  “Nothing at all?” I asked with a grin on my face.

  “That isn’t what I meant,” she purred. “Maybe.” Yeah, just then, it was good to be me. In the back of my head, a dark thought wormed its way across my awareness. Some part of me knew that things were going to get hairy, and soon. Enjoy it while you can, I told myself.

  Chapter 4

  ~ Not all of the demons we fight are our own. ~ Kyle Vortigern

  Tuesday started off with a text from Dr. Corwin.

  >> Crime scene. Be ready. >> I looked up from my phone and across the lot to the tree where we all met in the mornings before the bell. Lucas was already there, leaning against it, with his arms around Monica. Wanda sat on the other side of the tree, her head down over her phone. I saw Shade’s silver Mustang pull into a parking space in my rearview mirror.

  Might as well get as much time in with everyone as I could. I grabbed my backpack and waited for Shade to make it to me. Our arms slid around each other’s waist and we kissed for a good minute or two.

  “Good morning,” I said. She lifted her chin and looked at me with a languid expression. My teeth found the sensitive spot at the base of her neck, and this time, I did a little more than graze. Her body stretched against mine and she let out a satisfied little sigh.

  “Somebody’s glad to see me,” she growled.

  “Every day,” I whispered back. Both our cellphones buzzed in our pockets, and we pulled them out in unison. Lucas’s name appeared above a text that made me laugh.

  “Lucas?” Shade asked. “Me, too.”

  “‘Save it for prom’,” I quoted his message. “Come on. If he can pull himself out of Monica’s grasp, we can make like normal people, too.”

  “It’s about time you two stopped playing kissy face,” Lucas mocked as we walked up. His back was still to the tree, and Monica’s back was against his chest, his hands on the ample curves of her hips.

  “Well, we didn’t want you to feel left out or anything,” I said.

  “Well, I wish everything we found was as funny, but it isn’t. You got the message from Dr. C.?”

  “Yeah. You too?”

  Lucas nodded. “I’m his apprentice now, too. But I guess for me it’s going to be a learning opportunity, and for you, more of an expert thing, if he calls for us.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion he will,” I said, and Lucas nodded. “Especially with the Forensics internship.”

  “I’ll be quick, then,” he said. “After Dr. C called me last night, I went through the NEPD databases, looking for victims of violent crimes who were seventeen years old and blonde. I expanded it to a few other categories, too. I went back a year, and I found a spike starting in February. More than thirty blondes dead in New Essex between car accidents, murders, drug overdoses and other causes of death. And those are the ones reported to the police. None of them had enough in common for anyone to find dots to connect between them. But, when I went back through them for other points of similarity, I couldn’t find much, except that most of their birthdays were within the same month.”

  “Damn,” I grunted. “That’s definitely a pattern.”

  “But only if you know what you’re looking for going in,” Wanda said. “Otherwise, it’s like looking for a needle in a needle factory.”

  “Are they looking for a particular person or is it a witch hunter’s dunk test?” Shade asked

  “And is killing this person the point, or are they just making sure there are no witnesses?” I asked. “Congratulations, Lucas, you found a treasure trove of more questions.”

  “I aim to confuse,” he replied. “What did you find on the school front, Wanda?”

  “Nothing good,” she said. “Lots of stalking, victims were almost all blondes, all by students with some kind of connection to the occult somewhere, if you knew what you were looking for. Lots of fights and suspensions, even a couple of assaults on teachers. Seems like the black hat crowd is getting kind of brave.”

  “Seems like it, yeah,” I said. “So, our main goal is to find whoever it is that they’re looking for before they do. Which means we have to find out who it is, first.”

  “Way easier said than done,” Monica said. “Especially when even the bad guys don’t know either. But they have to have more than a hair color and an age, right? Some way to tell if they grabbed the right girl?”

  “Yeah,” I smiled. “And we have a bad guy. Now we know what to talk to him about this afternoon.” The bell rang, and Lucas reluctantly let Monica free of his embrace.

  “It’s good to have something to look forward to,” Wanda said as she got to her feet. The words should have sounded upbeat, but her tone was anything but. Shade and I watched her go for a few seconds before we headed for first period.

  “She’s taking this break-up hard,” Shade said, her hand tight around mine.

  “I think it’s her first.”

  “Her first?” Shade’s pale eyebrows arched.

  “Well, she didn’t figure out she liked girls until she met Giselle. She must have fallen hard.”
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br />   Shade shook her head. “I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling.”

  I looked over at her and remembered how my world seemed to fall apart without her almost a year ago. “I have an idea. All I have to do is think about what life would be like without you. Then the world sucks until I see you again.” She ducked her head and laid it against my shoulder.

  “You did okay while you were in Boston,” she said.

  “No, I was a total loss. I just put up a good front.”

  Shade rubbed her cheek against my shoulder a couple of times before she looked up at me. “Me, too.”

  During third period, an office aide stuck her head in the door of Mr. Weber’s class and held a sheet of paper out to him. He took it, then went a little pale and turned to me.

  “Mr. Fortunato, you’re excused from the rest of class,” he said as he held the page out to me. I took it and looked it over. The thing that stood out was the Essex County Sheriff’s department letterhead, and the words “Homicide Division – Special Crimes Unit.” It read like a lawyer’s excuse note.

  “Should I be worried?” Mr. Weber asked me softly at the door.

  “No, sir,” I said. “It’s part of the AP sciences program. It’s an internship thing.” He nodded and opened the door for me. I walked through the quiet halls, taking a moment to text Shade and let her know I might miss lunch, or even the rest of the day. Even my normal life was weird, it seemed.

  Lucas was already in the attendance office, waiting with a uniformed deputy whose nameplate read “M. Hanson” at the front desk. The deputy was chatting with the secretary and her gaggle of aides for the period. They reluctantly let him sign us out and asked if he was going to be the one to bring us back later. Lucas and I didn’t wait to see what he said.

  “We’re going to go get our cars and we’ll follow you,” I told Deputy Hanson. “Good luck.” He gave me a nod and smile that I was sure he was going to regret later. It was a full ten minutes before he came out and got in his cruiser to lead us to the crime scene out near the edge of Diamond Lake. We passed signs notifying the public of biohazard waste products, and then federal warning signs. All in all, not the place I figured I’d be taking my date to go make out, or for any other late-night fun. Coming through during the middle of the day wasn’t all that appealing either.