by Linda Welch
“And if I do not?”
Shan shrugged, said carelessly, “Then eventually the link to her body will dissolve and it will expire. Her spirit will linger perhaps till the world dies, but she will never regain her body.”
I felt cold with dread. Shan knew what buttons to push and I was one hell of a big button. But he gave Royal an impossible choice, me or Lawrence, and we’d be crazy to deliver the boy to him. “Don’t listen to him, Royal!”
Royal remained silent for a long moment but I sensed his thoughts racing. After a long hesitation, he said, “The Council will not let Lawrence leave Bel-Athaer.”
“Then do not ask them. The boy trusts and admires you, he will suspect nothing. Ask for a private audience and take him.”
“By force?” Royal’s complexion darkened as blood rose to his skin.
“What method you use is not my concern. You have two days. I will re-open the Gates when you leave this house. In forty-eight hours they will close. If you do not bring the High Lord to me you will never again see Tiff Banks alive. Tell Lawrence this: when the Gate to my dimension opens, my people will be drawn to it. What they find will influence their actions. It will be better for all concerned if they find me.
“One more thing before I go,” Shan showed his teeth. “Call me by my name.”
Royal’s jaw clenched.
“What is my name?” Shan thundered, his brows coming together.
“Mother,” Royal said as if the word tasted putrid in his mouth.
“Yes,” said Shan, and . . . he was gone.
“I trust you can see yourself out. My driver will take you to The Station,” Arthemy said. “Bring your woman’s body when you return.”
“Bring Tiff? She is on life support.”
“She won’t need the machines when she enters Downside. Trust me. Dagka Shan wants her alive.”
“And what when she leaves?”
“She will walk from here a whole woman.”
“Why should I believe you can do as you claim?”
“Hers is not the only soul I have excised and restored.”
Arthemy pointed a long bony finger at Royal. “Bring no one else when you return, nor to linger outside my home. You, the boy and your woman, both body and soul.”
“If I return,” Royal amended stiffly.
One of Arthemy’s eyebrows rose. “If you don’t bring the boy, do not expect to see her alive again.” He left the room with a swirl of robes.
Royal still faced the fireplace and his shoulders slumped. I sensed his weariness. He must be worn out and now faced with an impossible task.
I slipped around to face him and looked into dark, tortured eyes.
“Oh, Royal.” I wanted to comfort him, but what could I do?
He didn’t know I clung to him but spoke as if I did. “What he said about you lingering forever, Tiff. I cannot bear to think of it,” he said as if the words choked him.
“Hey, it won’t be so bad. I’ll have Jack and Mel.” I thought for an instant and amended my statement. “Yeah, it’ll be bad.”
Royal’s eyes came back into focus and he turned to the door. He walked through the eerily silent house to the front door, seeing no one.
Chapter Eighteen
Maggie and Chris sheltered from the rain in the house’s porch.
I asked Maggie to speak for me as we joined them. “What is all this about magic and mages? Shan employed the guy to. . . .”
Oops.
“You came with me when I expressly forbade it?”
“Forbade?” I began, but let it go. “Ah. Well now. You told Maggie not to go and you said if I were here in the flesh you. . . .” My words trailed off and so did Maggie’s. His face looked like thunder.
But the anger drained and his lips twisted in something like a smile. “I should have known.”
The light dawned. “Magic. It’s why you wanted to come here, isn’t it? Why you thought Shan was here. His message said blood and magic will bring me back.”
“Downside as a magical place is part of the mythos, though mention of it is vague, as is everything about Downside. I put two and two together and hoped it made four. I thought Shan gave me a clue to his whereabouts. I never imagined. . . ,” he held his hand palm up to indicate our surroundings. “. . . this.”
The pearl-gray car came along the street, performed a U-turn and stopped at the gate. Royal nodded at it. “Get in. We will talk later.” He didn’t have to caution silence; nobody spoke in front of a man who might report to Arthemy and Shan.
The driver drove as recklessly on the return journey. Maggie gasped several times and let out a tiny eek once. Chris set his mouth tight as if he seethed with impatience. Royal looked ahead but I don’t think he saw anything.
All three passengers grabbed the back of the front seats to stop themselves smashing into them when the car stopped. I made sure I held Maggie’s aura securely before they piled out. The car whipped into the street, barely missed a few heedless pedestrians and sped out of sight.
“What happened?” burst from Chris.
Royal eyed the far side of the street. “Let us find somewhere to talk in relative privacy.”
“I think there’s a coffee house farther on.” Chris nodded, his chin aimed at a store beyond four other businesses.
He turned his collar up and jammed his hands in his pockets. Maggie pulled her hood up and hunched her shoulders as if they could protect her from the rain. Royal was oblivious of the moisture. At least the rain did not pelt down like ammo now but settled on them gently.
They walked in the direction Chris indicated and I tried to see inside the stores we passed, interested to know if they differed from those in Clarion. Racks stood under an awning outside a boutique but I couldn’t determine styles with the way the clothes were packed together. Beautiful cut glass vials and bottles twinkled in a perfumery’s window display. People waited their turn inside a barber’s shop; their build and features made me think masculine, but something about their faces and hair were off the mark. The last store we passed displayed coats, umbrellas and rubber boots.
I imagined a warm fuggy atmosphere when we entered the coffee shop. It was similar to every coffee shop I have ever visited: tables and booths, a counter with oversized coffee machines behind and pastries in the glass cabinet in front. A large whiteboard listed specialties. A nearby station provided sweeteners, liquid creamers, milk, napkins and stirrers. It seemed to be a favorite for humans; I spied only two who weren’t, a something totally covered in long, shaggy tan hair and a feminine figure with a disproportionally tiny head and large, perfectly round black eyes.
Maggie didn’t hesitate, she all but charged to the counter and ran her eyes over the offerings posted on the board. “White chocolate latte, two shots of caramel, whole milk.”
The pale-haired young man behind the counter winked. “Sweet tooth?”
“Extremely.” Maggie returned his smile with a grin.
Chris rattled off an order with a dozen ingredients and added an extra regular coffee. When their orders lined up on the counter, he took out his wallet and passed the barista a twenty.
The lad held the note. “I can’t take this.”
“Why not?”
The barista squinted as if to see Chris better. “I recognize it, though. Are you from Upside?”
“If by Upside you mean Manhattan, yes.”
“Then you have a problem.” He slapped the note on the counter. “If you don’t know we have our own currency, I’m guessing you know very little of Downside.”
Chris took the money. “We didn’t expect to purchase anything. Where can we exchange cash?”
The boy snorted. “You can’t, not with that.” He eyed the queue building behind us. “The coffee’s on the house, this time.” He dismissed Chris by lifting his head and calling, “Next?”
“How is one supposed to get whatever scrip they use if you can’t buy it?” Chris muttered as Royal led the way to a booth in the rear.
>
Nobody replied as they slid in the booth. Chris pushed an oversized mug across to Royal. “Get this inside you.”
Royal’s big hands wrapped the mug and he stared at it gloomily.
Maggie found her notebook and pen. Coffee in one hand, pen in the other, she commenced scribbling.
So Felipe wasn’t teasing me, these people called Manhattan Upside. The names did sound as if Upside should be “up there” and Downside “down here,” except we didn’t descend on the way here.
“I suppose it is okay to drink?” I asked through Maggie. “We are in another world, what if their stuff poisons you?”
“Mine tastes fabulous.” Maggie took another sip.
“There you have it,” I said brightly. “See if Maggie keels over before you try yours.”
“Thanks a lot, Tiff.”
Chris and Royal were in no mood for banter. “Well?” Chris urged.
“Do you believe in magic?” Royal asked. He lifted the mug but placed it back on the table without tasting.
“As in abracadabra?”
“No. That a man who calls himself a mage told Dagka Shan how to force Tiff’s . . . spirit . . . from her body and the same man can rejoin them?”
Chris kept his eyes on Royal as he raised his mug and took a sip. He replaced it on the table, turned it to reposition the handle. “Well. I don’t know what to say, old friend.”
“I do,” Royal said. I thought he spoke more to himself than to Chris. “And Lawrence is the price for his services.”
“Who’s Lawrence?” Maggie asked.
“The High Lord of Bel-Athaer,” Chris and I said at the same time.
“The supreme ruler,” Chris added. He switched his attention to Royal. “Shan hired this magician? He wants Lawrence . . . why?”
Royal shook his head. “Shan says to talk. If he can be believed, the Gates to the Cousins’ dimension will open in the next decade and they want to be there. They will go tranquilly with Lawrence’s permission, or fight any who try to stop them.”
He told Chris and Maggie what happened in Arthemy’s house.
“You believe him?” from Chris.
“What I believe does not matter. I will not abduct Lawrence and drag him here.”
Chris’ mouth flattened as he pressed back in the chair. “Hm. Then what will you do?”
“I’ll find a way, I will not lose Tiff forever.”
His anguish made an ache spread across my chest. Perhaps it was my heart breaking.
I thought of the bloody trail Shan left across the States. He was insane and our quest as crazy. Royal was determined and I knew him better than I knew anyone. He would not give up, he’d grasp at any possible solution, no matter how tenuous, when he should be running as far as possible from Dagka Shan. If no alternative surfaced, he’d return to face Shan anyway, try to kill him and persuade Arthemy to return me to my body.
I couldn’t let him do it, not for my sake.
“Maggie, speak for me,” I said to her. “Tell Royal, forget all this. Let’s go home.”
Still writing, she didn’t shut her eyes. “Royal, Tiff says forget all this, let’s go home.”
It was one of those times each knew the other’s thoughts. So much said in so few words. Royal’s fingers clenched on the mug. “No. I will not argue with you, Tiff. We will not speak of it.”
My heart dropped into my gut.
“Much as I hate to say it, Tiff’s future is not the only concern,” he said. “Shan’s threat, the Cousins will forge through Bel-Athaer when their Gates open if Lawrence does not give them permission. Shan underestimates us, we can stop them, but as few as they are, they will still cut a bloody swathe.”
He dropped his head in his hands. After a second his chest expanded with a deep inhale. He lifted his head. “Handing Lawrence to Shan guarantees nothing. We may, after all, have to approach Lawrence and the Council, but first we investigate any alternative. I think the answer is here but we are ill equipped to navigate this world.” Royal stared into his mug. “We are out of our depth, we cannot fight magic. We need help.”
Maggie didn’t try to produce the derogatory noise I made.
“You’re serious. You believe this place is all about magic.”
Royal started to stand. “Look around you, Tiff. What we see is no stage magician’s trick.”
“What about the paper Felipe gave you?” Chris suggested.
I let loose with sarcasm. “Why not? I’m sure it’ll make perfect sense now.”
Maggie took a huge swallow as I spoke, and coughed on it before repeating my words.
Royal found the piece of paper tucked in his pocket. Maggie gasped when he unfolded it. Plain as day, an elegantly handwritten name, address and directions.
I would not have believed it had I not seen it right in front of my invisible nose.
“My mind is officially blown,” Maggie said.
“Angelina.” Royal looked through the window. “The directions begin at The Station.”
“A woman. Felipe kept it for a reason,” Chris mused.
“One he can’t recall,” I said.
“But he wouldn’t were she someone to avoid. On the contrary, one keeps the address of a friend.”
“It was twenty years ago. She probably changed her location.”
“Possibly,” Chris agreed.
I heaved an almighty sigh. We’d track down this Angelina no matter what I said.
I tried to look every way at once as Maggie followed Royal and I drifted with her. So much to see, from the “people” to the buildings and businesses housed in them, and my gaze kept darting to the empty red expanse above the rooftops.
And I was glad I didn’t feel the rain. It drenched Maggie, Royal and Chris and I almost felt sorry for Chris when he pushed his arms forward to look with disgust at the sleeves of his beautiful mint-colored suit, now sodden, water dripping from the cuffs. Maggie lifted her hood again. There may as well have not been any rain for all the response Royal showed as he strode along.
It made his copper-gold hair glisten.
He stopped walking and pointed a thumb at an alley. “I think we go this way.”
The narrow unlit alley looked uninviting, and from the way Maggie made a face and wrinkled her noise, also noxious. But along it we went.
We exited to a street where the streetlamps fought with the red light from above. Maggie stumbled on the cobbles and Chris caught her arm to steady her.
My confusion grew. We must have walked half a mile by now but the city still rose up in every direction. My brain fought with my gut instincts, one saying we must be inside an enormous structure, the other beginning to think we really were in another world.
Tiny, red, inhuman eyes blinked open and watched us from the shadows, the poorly lit street alive with them. Before I knew what I was doing, one hand grasped Maggie’s aura and the other held my gun, barrel pointed up as my gaze flitted back and forth. The weapon was useless but holding it felt right. Royal’s shoulders tensed and he hurried along, moving through sooty black broken by the bloody light from streetlamps glowing dull red.
More red eyes popped open in clusters. Then something crawled from the shadows.
It looked like a giant rat with a curiously human but pointed face and the limbs with which it clawed forward ended in hands. But matted brown hair covered a humped back and a long bare tail slithered behind. Its red eyes fixed on us hungrily. The shadows behind it stirred.
“Move,” Chris said.
They moved, Chris and Royal between them taking Maggie along so her feet skimmed the ground, happily not so fast their pace ripped me from her. I expected to hear skittering feet, but we broke free of the alley and into the light.
Still holding Maggie, Royal and Chris stopped and looked back. Nothing came after us, no red eyes followed.
A small market flashed a blue, white and red neon sign and bright white light came through the windows and open door. Two big neon signs on a hotel helped illuminate the s
treet. The other brick buildings with their many small balconies might be apartments. Undeniably tall, they rose eight, nine, ten floors.
“What the. . . ?” Maggie dragged her feet and looked backward over her shoulder at the market.
A small man, maybe four feet high. He wore an apron and busily pushed a broom, the handle rising above his head. Perfectly proportioned, he looked nothing like the little people I’ve seen in Clarion and other cities.
“A short man. So what?” I said.
“No, not him. Behind the counter.”
“I don’t—” I began, peering in the store. Then I saw . . . something. A thick body clad in gaudy blue and red floral material, so tall I couldn’t see the shoulders and head, one ham-sized hand polishing the counter with a cloth.
Royal stopped outside a building and gazed at a door at the top of concrete steps. “This is it.”
Up the steps, through the door to a small hall with a staircase rising before us. Mailboxes and intercoms studded one wall, Royal faced the other and the only door. Wider and taller than standard, it looked as if made of silvery textured metal.
Royal pressed the intercom button for the door.
“Yes?” a feminine voice asked a few seconds later.
Royal cleared his throat before saying, “Am I speaking to Angelina? Felipe Noyola gave us your address.”
The door opened with a hiss, as if controlled by hydraulics.
Chapter Nineteen
A woman stood before us. No, she posed, one hand on a hip and the other on the edge of the doorjamb level with her head. With smooth, unblemished porcelain skin, shining copper hair tumbling in curls and waves over her shoulders and down her back, and big sea-blue, almond-shaped eyes, she was voluptuous in a green shin-length strapless dress which clung to an hourglass figure. One leg angled in and lifted slightly so only her toes touched the carpeted floor. Pearly gray-green toenails shimmered on her bare feet.
She was . . . lush. Yes, lush. Although pale, her skin glowed, not the glow I see on demons but the bloom of health and vitality.
