by JL Bryan
“Just arranging my new place,” Grizlemor replied. “What do you think? Not much of a view, but it’s roomy.”
“Your new…What? You can’t live under my bed! And why would you want to?”
“Well, young sir, I can’t live at home any more, and it’s all on account of you. So, by any measure of justice, it’s your job to provide suitable lodging during my displacement.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
“Queensguard.” Grizlemor lay on one elbow on his blanket. “They’re searching Goblin Row. I came home to find them ransacking my apartment pit. Had to run before they spotted me. I can only hope they didn’t find my stash-hole.”
“Why were they doing that?”
“Because of you!” Grizlemor snapped. “The Queensguard’s mad as hornets about finding those stolen instruments. Magic leaking into the human world, and all of that. It violates the Supreme Law.”
“What, the Constitution?”
“Not human law. Are you dense? The Supreme Law. The great covenant among the Folk, when we left man-world after the Iron Wars.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Human and Folk—that’s us, goblins and fairies and elves and such—had a terrible war long ago. Your side won. So when we left your world, the Supreme Law was established by leaders of each kind of Folk. Rule one: Draw no attention from man-world. That means keeping all magic over on our side, hidden from your kind. Of course, rule two is that Folk shall not use iron against other Folk, yet there’s the Queensguard, threatening everyone with their iron swords.”
“Oh. But you didn’t break the law, I did.”
“As if it matters!” Grizlemor’s green face looked agitated. “I led a man-whelp down to Faerie. It no longer matters whether the instruments are recovered—the Queen will punish me. Perhaps she’ll throw me in the Labyrinth to be torn apart by beasts.” He shuddered.
“You don’t have anywhere else to go?”
“Don’t even try to run me off,” Grizlemor said. “It’s too late for me to make amends, so now I have to make sure you don’t get caught. It’ll be my hide tacked to the palace wall if they find you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason said. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a goblin living in his room, but Grizlemor’s troubles really were Jason’s fault. “Are you sure you want to stay down there?”
“I like it very much.” Grizlemor fluffed the straw pillow and lay back against it, crossing his legs. He took up a small leather-bound book and a tiny pair of half-glasses that looked like they’d been swiped from a grandma doll somewhere. He wore them low on his nose. “Now, if you’ll leave me to my reading…”
“Wait. I need to know how the instruments work.”
“Not being a musician, I wouldn’t know,” Grizlemor said.
“But you know some things. You know they drain energy from kids, and you said that helps power the magic in the fairy world.”
Grizlemor sighed and looked up from his book. “What do you want to know? I’ll share what little bits of knowledge I have, if it’ll help you avoid trouble.”
“Where do the kids come from? How do they end up in Faerie?”
“Fairy rings,” Grizlemor said. “Remember the ring of mushrooms within which the young people dance?”
“Yes…”
“Here in man-world, such rings grow around the edges of soft spots between the worlds. Man-whelps can be lured into them by the faintest notes of fairy music. Once inside the ring, they fall through into the Faerie.”
“So they’re doorways. Like the one we used.”
“Not exactly.” Grizlemor sighed again, as if he found it ridiculous that Jason didn’t already know these things. “A soft spot with a fairy ring is like a fishing net cast by the fairies. It’s meant to lure people in. Fairies can create and remove them at will, with their magic. But they can’t close the major doorways between our worlds, because those are holes that were left when the Folk cut their favorite places out of this world and moved them down to the elfland.”
“You mean fairy-land, right? Faerie?”
“Let’s not get off on a historical tangent,” Grizlemor said. “It was the elfland then, but it’s fairy-land now.”
“I don’t get it,” Jason said.
“Do you want to know about the instruments or not?” Grizlemor was looking impatient, tapping his book with a green thumb.
“Yeah, tell me about those.”
“As we were saying, the fairies create and control the soft spots. Their purpose is to trap human children so they can be drained of energy. The soft spot takes them directly to one of the little music parks in Faerie. There, in my world, the ring of mushrooms acts as a barrier—the human pups can’t just wander outside the dancing-circle and do as they please. Not that they often try. They notice very little but the music.”
“And when they’re drained, they go back where they came from?”
“Correct,” Grizlemor said. “Usually. They may pop up in a fairy ring in the wrong part of man-world, but back to man-world they go, in any case.”
“That doesn’t seem right, trapping and draining people like that.”
Grizlemor snorted. “As if you aren’t doing the same with your music.”
Jason didn’t know what to make of that, so he asked, “Grizlemor, the music almost destroyed my friend’s house. How can we stop the instruments from being destructive?”
“Don’t play them.” Grizlemor began leafing through his book, as if he’d lost his place.
“Other than that.”
“How should I know? It takes seventy-seven years of conservatory training before the Guild certifies you as a professional musician. I’ve had…let me consider…zero years of such training.”
“But we don’t want to wreck everything each time we play.”
“Then play softly, I suppose.” Grizlemor shrugged. “I’d prefer you didn’t play them at all. You’ll only draw the fairies’ attention. And they’ll be quite vengeful.”
“How vengeful?”
“Have you ever been pecked to death by a vulture? Or slowly eaten from the inside by slime-worms? Or ripped apart by a blunt-toothed brainbug?”
“No…”
“Well, you might be.”
“Great.”
“Ask yourself if fame and fortune are worth a horrible death for you and your friends,” Grizlemor said. “I know it’s a difficult question.”
“Are the fairies really that evil?”
“Evil? You’re the thief. You’ve brought this on yourself.”
Jason thought about that.
“Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day. I’d like a bit of pleasure reading before sleep.”
“What are you reading?”
“Gobbligan’s Wake. It’s a stream of conscious meditation on the nature of goblinness. You wouldn’t understand it.” Grizlemor pulled the comforter down like a curtain, closing off Jason’s view of him.
Jason lay back on his pillow.
“I’ve got a monster living under my bed,” he said.
“Goblin,” Grizlemor corrected. “’Monster’ is an offensive term.” There was a cracking sound, then something thunked into the underside of Jason’s bed. Jason could feel his springs rattle at the impact.
“What are you doing?” Jason asked.
“Clipping my toenails.” Another crack, another thunk that rattled the bed. “Problem?”
“No.” Jason listened, his lip curling a little as the goblin’s next toenail clipping buried itself like an arrow into the boxspring. And the next. And the next.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday afternoon, Jason was getting ready for another exciting day at Buddy McSlawburger’s when he got the call from Mitch.
“You have to check it out,” Mitch said. “It looks so good. I posted the link on your Facebook wall.”
“The video?” Jason asked, running to his computer. His computer was running sluggishly, so it to
ok forever for the video to load.
Over the phone, Jason could hear the current #1 hit song in America:
Alllllll day
And all night, too,
You dream of me
Yeah, you know you do…
“Are you listening to Claudia Lafayette?” Jason asked.
“No!” The volume turned down until Jason couldn’t hear the song anymore.
“You were!” Jason said. “It’s that stupid ‘You Love Me’ song.”
“It just came on the TV. It’s off now.”
“Right.”
“Are you looking at the video yet or not?” Mitch snapped.
“Oh, it’s starting to load.”
The opening credits appeared over Jason playing “Learning to Fly”:
starring the Assorted Zebras:
Jason Becker
Erin Kavanagh
Mitch Schneidowski
Dred Zweig
Then those words disappeared, to be replaced by the words:
DIRECTED BY
TADD GRUBER
“It’s epic,” Mitch said. “Tadd sliced it into a different video for each song. You have to watch the last one, though. The cops coming in and dancing instead of busting the party. Dred’s drum set transforming. The house shaking down all around the crowd.”
Jason skipped to the final video in the series. The recorded music entranced him again—not as powerfully as playing the instruments live, but the effect was very strong.
“It looks like we spent a million dollars on special effects,” Jason said, watching the walls crack and the windows shatter behind Dred, while her drums morphed into fairy drums.
“Right?” Mitch said. “And look at the pageviews.”
According to YouTube, the video had been watched over 200,000 timessince it was uploaded at 6 AM. Jason glanced back at his Facebook page. Hundreds of people had “liked” the video, and it seemed like half the school had shared it on their pages. Jason had also been tagged in a number of videos uploaded from people’s phones, showing the event from different angles, and those videos were getting a lot of views too.
On top of this, the Assorted Zebras page had six thousand fans, and Jason himself had hundreds of new friend requests.
“This is crazy!” Jason said.
“It was that first video, the one the kid made,” Mitch said. “It’s got like ten million views now. Everybody’s looking for more stuff from us. A couple bars in Madison already emailed to offer us a gig.”
“Are you serious?”
“But I’m waiting for more offers. I think we can do better.”
“Don’t get too cocky…” Jason said.
“I’m not. I’m just sitting back and letting the universe provide.”
“Right. Anyway, I have to get to work. Text me if anything happens.”
“You don’t have to sling burgers at Bloody McSlobberbooger’s anymore,” Mitch said. “We’re gonna be huge, man! This is just the beginning.”
“When we get from the beginning to the part where we’re getting paid, then I’ll quit McSlobberbooger’s. Until then…” Jason shoved the uniform and ridiculous hat into his backpack. “It’s slawburgers, hold the slaw, a thousand times a day.”
“I don’t think you’re seeing the big picture here.”
“I don’t think you’re seeing the small one. What’s happening with your house? Are they going to fix it?”
“Claims adjuster was here yesterday—that’s the person the insurance sends to investigate, I guess. He seemed mostly confused about how we managed to have a tiny earthquake in Chippewa.”
“Are they going to help?”
“We still don’t know. He took a bunch of pictures and said he’d be in touch. But I’m still in deep trouble for having that party. So worth it, though. Have you seen the videos yet?”
“I’m looking at them.” Jason clicked on the video for “Remember.” It alternated between Erin singing and Katie wandering alone on the playground, as if Katie was the childhood version of Erin. It was actually a powerfully sad video. “Tadd doesn’t suck,” Jason said.
“He might be a nut roll, but he knows what he’s doing,” Mitch said. “Of course, the magic music doesn’t hurt.”
“Have you told Erin about all this?”
“Yeah, she’s all over her Facebook page answering comments about it.”
“Oh.”
“Maybe you should call her, though,” Mitch said.
“I don’t think so. I’m off to work. Keep me updated.” Jason hung up.
The Buddy McSlawburger’s was packed wall to wall with kids from school. They erupted in cheers when Jason entered, as if they’d all been waiting for him.
“Jason,” Mona said, approaching him with a hard look in her eyes.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. My friend wouldn’t get off the phone.”
“You told me there was a CD. I’ve been searching the internet for two days.”
“Oh. Um…I’m sure we’ll get something together soon, okay? I’ll have Mitch burn you one.”
“For free?” She embraced him in a tight, uncomfortably long hug. “Thank you, Jason.”
“Sure.” He patted her back. “Long line, huh? I’d better get to work.” He managed to disentangle from her embrace, even though she tried to cling to his arms, then his hands, as he pulled away. He attempted to make his way through the crowd to the EMPLOYEES ONLY door.
“You don’t have to do that!” Mona said. “Why don’t you sit at this table and sign autographs?”
“You want me to sign autographs?” Jason asked, with a tremendous amount of disbelief.
The crowd applauded.
She led Jason to the first dining booth, telling people “Move aside, move aside.” The crowd tried to crush in around him.
“This is crazy,” Jason said. “All we did was put up a video.”
“A great video!” shouted a girl he didn’t recognize.
“I’ve watched it a hundred times!” somebody else yelled.
“I’ve watched it a thousand!”
In a daze, Jason sat at the table. People had him autograph napkins, except for a few who’d brought either notebooks or printed images of him.
“Where did you get this?” Jason asked a teen girl who handed him a picture of himself.
“It’s a screenshot from you playing ‘First Road Out of Here.’ I loooooooove that song!” she said. “You’re the best guitarist ever. I couldn’t believe it when Kelsey told me you worked at McSlobberbooger’s!”
“Who’s Kelsey!”
“I am!” shrieked another girl. “He said my name!”
“So, do you guys go to McDonell?” he asked. He didn’t recognize them, but maybe they attended the Catholic high school instead of the public one.
“Yeah, but I’ll transfer to Chi-High if you want me to!” the girl called Kelsey said.
“Uh, that’s okay,” Jason said. “Thanks, though.”
Jason spent most of his shift signing autographs and talking to fans, some of whom had come from the town of Eau Claire just to see him. He was in a daze. He knew the music was good, and it was literally magical, but this was too much. It scared him. The first video, the one taken by Mitch’s kid neighbor, had only been circulating for a week or so. The music wasn’t just entrancing, it was addictive, and everybody who heard it seemed to lose their minds a little.
Mitch was absolutely right, he realized. This was only the beginning of what promised to be a very wild ride.
Over the next couple of days, he continued going to work, but Mona treated him like a celebrity. So did the kids who came from increasingly far away—Sheboygan, Oshkosh, even college students driving up from Madison. All of them asked when they were doing a concert or where to buy their music. Lots of them took pictures of themselves with Jason. One group showed up with full-print posters of the band, which a girl who worked in a copy shop had made. Jason signed it next to his own face.
Mitch called periodically
with updates. They were getting bigger and bigger offers for larger and larger venues. Apparently, even nightclub and theater owners weren’t immune to the power of the Assorted Zebras.
On Thursday, when Jason was again at work and not working, Mitch called again.
“Forget all those little clubs. We’ve been invited to play at the Spoon and Cherry Festival on Saturday night,” Mitch said. His voice was awed.
“Are you serious?” Jason whispered. The festival showcased eight independent bands from around the region, at the Statue Garden in Minneapolis. “That’s like ten thousand people!”
“They had an opening, so the coordinator dropped us in,” Mitch said. “Apparently a bunch of people had emailed her our video—”
“But how is that possible? Auditions for that were four months ago.”
“Well, she may have bumped some local Minneapolis band to make room for us. But anyway, not bad for a first gig!”
“Saturday night? Do we have time to get ready?”
“We don’t need to get ready. We just need to get up on that stage and play. The instruments will do it all for us. I’ll announce it on our Facebook page. And our YouTube profile.”
“I’ll announce it, too.” Jason stood up and looked over the crowd. “Hey, everybody: Assorted Zebras are playing the Spoon and Cherry Festival this Saturday! Tell your friends!”
The entire place burst into cheers.
“I think they’ll come,” Jason said into the phone.
“They can’t, it’s already sold out,” Mitch said. “We just want everyone to know we played the festival, so we’ll get more shows out of this. Gotta go, I have to call Dred and Erin!” Mitch hung up.
Jason’s heart dropped a little at Erin’s name. They hadn’t spoken since she rejected him. This was going to be awkward.
A balding fiftyish man in a tie elbowed his way into the restaurant. Mr. Humphley, the franchise owner. Jason stood up automatically when he entered.
“What in the blue heck is going on here?” Mr. Humphley demanded. “Where is Mona?”
“I’m right here!” She waved from the cash register.
