The Uncanny Express

by Kara LaReau

  “The train station!” said Kale. It dawned on her, too.

  “We need to pick up Aunt Shallot!” the Bland Sisters said at the same time.

  The Bland Sisters had never been to the Dullsville Train Station, but there was really no time to take in the sights. By the time they arrived, it was almost noon, when Aunt Shallot’s train was due to arrive.

  “I don’t like train stations,” Kale decided. “There’s too much hustle. Not to mention bustle.”

  “And it’s too loud. I can barely hear myself think,” said Jaundice, who was still angry at herself for forgetting the red wagon.

  “If only we had more information,” Kale said.

  “Or any information, really,” said Jaundice.

  That’s when both sisters’ eyes came to rest on a sign hanging over a desk in the center of the terminal. Fortunately, the sign read INFORMATION.

  “We’re looking for our aunt,” Kale said to the man sitting behind the desk. “We’re supposed to pick her up here just before noon.”

  “Quite a few trains arrive and depart around that time,” the man said. “On which train is she due to arrive?”

  “We don’t know,” said Jaundice.

  “Well, where is she coming from?” the man asked.

  “We don’t know that, either,” said Kale.

  The man raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he said. “I suppose we could make an announcement over the loudspeaker, to let her know you’re both here. What’s your aunt’s name?”

  “Shallot,” the sisters said.

  “Is that her first name or her last name?”

  Jaundice and Kale looked at each other. Then they looked at the man at the information desk and shrugged.

  The man sighed. He grabbed his microphone.

  “AUNT SHALLOT . . . AUNT SHALLOT . . . PAGING AUNT SHALLOT . . . YOUR NIECES ARE WAITING FOR YOU AT THE INFORMATION DESK.”

  “Thank you,” said Jaundice.

  “You’re welcome. Good luck,” said the man. Almost immediately, he looked past the Bland Sisters to his next customer and barked, “Next!”

  Jaundice and Kale sat down on a bench close to the Information Desk.

  “Do you think we’ll be waiting long?” asked Kale.

  “Who knows?” said Jaundice.

  “Well, let’s do something to pass the time,” Kale said. “We don’t have any socks with us to darn. Shall we do our numbers?”

  “All right, then,” said Jaundice. “Three.”

  “Ooh . . . six!” said Kale. It really was fun, thinking of numbers divisible by three.

  “Nine,” said Jaundice.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” a voice said.

  Coming toward the Bland Sisters was a woman dressed all in black. She wore a long coat and had a big scarf looped around her face, with a floppy hat on top. And she wore very big sunglasses. She seemed to be struggling with her bag, a very large purple satchel.

  “She’s wearing a hat,” Kale whispered to Jaundice.

  “And glasses,” Jaundice whispered to Kale.

  “Is that you, Aunt—?” Kale asked.

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” Aunt Shallot said, tossing her satchel to Jaundice. “I hope you two are fast runners.”

  The Bland Sisters had never run anywhere together, on any occasion. But now seemed as good a time as any to try.

  “This would have been much easier if I’d remembered the wagon,” Jaundice managed, between running, carrying the purple satchel, and trying to follow Aunt Shallot.

  “Why are we running toward the trains instead of away from them?” Kale asked.

  “Less talking, more running,” Aunt Shallot advised. Eventually, she navigated them to Track Nine. Both sisters noted that this was a number divisible by three; somehow, this seemed like a good omen.

  The train on Track Nine was called the Uncanny Express. Aunt Shallot passed the first car, marked BAGGAGE, and ducked into the second car, marked PASSENGER, while Jaundice and Kale followed behind, as quickly as they could. They might have been good at running if the purple satchel Jaundice was carrying weren’t so heavy. Kale tried to carry the bag at one end, but in her attempt to help her sister, she ended up tripping over a ruddy-faced man with a briefcase and a walking stick.

  “Watch it, missy!” he growled.

  “Sorry,” said Kale.

  The Bland Sisters stepped aside as an older woman in a mink stole with a small fluffy dog was followed by a younger woman in a tweedy coat and hat.

  “We're almost there, Countess,” the younger woman said cheerfully. “We’re in compartment four.”

  “I don’t see why we have to rub elbows with the hoi polloi,” the older woman said, clutching her pearls as she looked down her long nose at the Bland Sisters. Her little dog bared its tiny teeth and growled at Jaundice and Kale.

  “Ah,” Aunt Shallot said, noting all the numbered compartments. “Here we are. Number one. How apropos.”

  The compartment was paneled in wood and featured a large window against the far wall, framed by facing bench seats covered in green leather, with a little fold-down table in between. On the table was a single red carnation in a bud vase. Luggage racks hung over the bench seats on each side, and above a button on the wall, a plaque read PRESS FOR SERVICE.

  A red envelope leaned against the bud vase. Aunt Shallot opened it and gasped. Quickly, she closed the envelope and tucked it into her coat.

  “Did you forget something here?” Kale asked.

  “I don’t believe so. Now that I’ve found you ladies, I have everything I need,” Aunt Shallot said, clapping her hands.

  “All right, then,” Jaundice said, attempting to catch her breath. “We should all be getting on now.”

  “Yes, we should,” said Aunt Shallot.

  “Well, we’ll have to get off the train,” said Kale.

  “Eventually, yes,” said Aunt Shallot. She sat down on one of the seats and opened her satchel. She took out a pack of playing cards and began shuffling them, cutting them, and shuffling them again.

  The sound of a piercing whistle made Jaundice and Kale jump.

  “All aboard!” a voice said outside.

  “We have to get off this train. Now,” Jaundice said.

  “Whatever for?” Aunt Shallot asked. “Did you forget something, dear?”

  “I think you’ve forgotten that you’re supposed to come with us, Aunt Shallot,” Kale said.

  The woman laughed. “‘Aunt Shallot’? Sounds like a real fuddy-duddy,” she said.

  “I’m having a Feeling,” said Kale.

  Jaundice was, too. It was the feeling of the ground moving beneath her feet. The train was moving, and the Bland Sisters were on it, whether they liked it or not.

  TRAVELING CAN BE A GERMY,

  messy business. In a pinch, hand sanitizer

  can double as spot remover!

  “Pick a card,” the woman said, fanning them out to Kale.

  “Two of hearts,” said Kale, holding it up for Jaundice to see.

  “Excellent,” said the woman. “Now stick it back in the fan.”

  Kale did as she was told. The woman collapsed the fan, then shuffled the deck several times, the cards flowing from one hand to the other like water. She cut the cards, shuffled one last time, then held the deck in one hand and flipped the top card over.

  “Two of hearts,” said Kale. “Whoa.”

  “So, who are you?” Jaundice asked. The Bland Sisters had many rules for themselves, including Never Open the Door to Strangers. Getting on trains with strangers—let alone engaging in card tricks with them—was on another level entirely.

  The woman removed her sunglasses, unbuttoned her long black coat, and stood up. Underneath, she wore a purple robe covered in silver lightning bolts.

  “I am . . . MAGIQUE!” she announced with the wave of a hand.

  When she took off her hat and head wrap, the Bland Sisters could see that Magique’s hair was silver, too.

  “Magique?” Kal
e said.

  “I know, you’re overwhelmed to be in my presence. I get that a lot,” Magique said. “But you’ll get used to assisting the Queen of Magic, eventually.”

  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Jaundice said, finally.

  “Oh? I was told there would be two young female assistants waiting for me,” Magique said.

  “Well, we’re not them,” said Jaundice.

  “Then whyever did you get on the train with me?” said Magique.

  “We . . . thought you were someone else,” Kale tried to explain. “Someone who is probably at the Information Desk right now, waiting for us.”

  “Tickets, please!” the conductor said, poking his head in.

  Magique pulled out a pile of papers from her satchel and handed them to him. The conductor stamped them one, two, three times.

  “You had tickets for us?” Kale said.

  “Of course,” said Magique. “That was the arrangement. The two young ladies were to travel with me to the Uncanny Valley, for my big show.”

  “My name is Mr. Harold, should you need anything,” the conductor told them, tipping his hat.

  Just then, a young couple appeared outside the compartment. The woman was beautiful, with perfectly curled blond hair and green eyes and bright pink lipstick. A handsome man with dark, slicked-back hair was pulling her by the hand.

  “Can I help you?” Mr. Harold asked the couple.

  “Just making our way to compartment number three, old chap,” said the young man. He smiled, revealing a set of pearly white, perfectly straight teeth. “I know the way.”

  “You know everything, darling,” said the young woman, giggling as the young man led her off.

  Mr. Harold sighed. “Have a nice day,” he said to Magique and the Bland Sisters, then moved on to the next compartment.

  “So, who made this arrangement with you?” Jaundice asked. She looked at Kale. The Bland Sisters already knew the answer.

  “Your parents,” Magique said, reaching into her satchel again and producing a letter from a very worn envelope, addressed with all-too-familiar handwriting. She showed it to Jaundice and Kale. It said:

  Dearest Magique,

  We hear you’re looking for a new assistant. Might we suggest two—our daughters, Jaundice and Kale? They’re very smart and resourceful, and while they don’t have experience with magic, they are well versed in the art of escape, having just eluded kidnapping by pirates. They should be at the Dullsville Train Station just before your noon train, waiting to meet you.

  Yours from hither and yon,

  The Blands

  “‘Kidnapping by pirates’? That’s quite a résumé at your age,” noted Magique.

  “Well, that’s true,” said Jaundice.

  “Why did they tell us her name was Aunt Shallot when her name is Magique?” Kale whispered to her sister.

  “They tricked us with the whole Aunt Shallot story to get us on this train,” Jaundice explained. “Our parents are trying to make us have another adventure.”

  “Don’t they remember how they almost got us killed with the last adventure, with the pirates?” Kale wondered.

  “We’re not interested in being magician’s assistants,” Jaundice informed the magician. “We’re getting off at the next stop. When is the next stop, anyway?”

  “Well, this is the Uncanny Express, after all,” Magique said. “The next stop will be the Uncanny Valley. Is there nothing I can do to convince you two to stay on? I have a big performance planned, and I’ll need all the help I can get to pull it off.”

  “We run our own business, back at home,” Jaundice explained. “So we’re needed there right away.”

  “When the socks pile up, things can get messy,” Kale added.

  “That is a shame,” Magique said, shaking her head. “Well, let’s at least enjoy ourselves while we’re all here together, shall we? Why don’t we have lunch in the dining car, and I can fill you in on my show. If you’re lucky, you might even learn about the big surprise I have planned. In a few hours, we’ll arrive at the Uncanny Valley station, and I can send you both back to Dullsville.”

  “Lunch does sound good,” Kale said, nudging her sister. After they’d spent some time without food on the pirate ship, the Bland Sisters learned to eat whenever they could.

  “As long as they have cheese sandwiches,” said Jaundice.

  SOAK YOUR LINENS IN A SOLUTION

  of aspirin and hot water—

  they’ll brighten like magic!

  Jaundice and Kale had never eaten lunch in such a fancy dining room, let alone a dining room on a train. As the landscape of Dullsville zoomed by, Kale admired the white tablecloths and shiny silverware while Jaundice scrutinized the menu.

  “How do they keep their linens so white?” said Kale, consulting Tillie’s Tips for possibilities.

  “I don’t see any cheese sandwiches,” Jaundice noted, flipping the menu over.

  “Leave the ordering to me,” said Magique. When the waiter arrived, she announced, “Three croque madames and three glasses of lemonade.”

  Jaundice tugged on the waiter’s sleeve as he turned to go. “We’d prefer soda, if you have it,” she said. “The flatter, the better.”

  “It’s so nice having traveling companions again,” said Magique. “I’ve been on my own since I fired Albertine. She just didn’t cut the mustard as a magician’s assistant. Although she does possess certain unassailable qualities.”

  “Like what?” asked Kale.

  “She’s my daughter,” said Magique. “Her grandfather—my father, Albertus Magnus—went by the name of Professor Magic. He was a world-class performer and an author.”

  Magique reached into her satchel and pulled out a book. She handed it to Kale.

  “Professor Magic’s Rules of Illusion,” Kale read across the cover.

  “I was his onstage assistant. Until he attempted his escape from the Inescapable Water Tank of Death. As it turned out, his greatest illusion was his downfall,” Magique said, sighing.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Jaundice said. “Drowning must be awful.” The Bland Sisters were tied up and nearly keelhauled by their pirate kidnappers not so very long ago. Jaundice still shuddered at their almost watery fate.

  “No. His greatest illusion was literally his downfall. He fell as he climbed up the ladder into the tank,” Magique explained. “Tumbled right into the string section of the orchestra.”

  “Well, no one deserves to die with any kind of violence,” said Jaundice.

  “Or violins,” Kale added helpfully.

  “He wasn’t an easy father to love,” the magician admitted. “Even though I was always the one who loved magic, he only wanted to teach my brother the business.”

  “Why wouldn’t he teach you?” asked Jaundice.

  “My father thought magic wasn’t for girls,” the magician explained. “Unfortunately for him, my brother had other plans, and none of the other up-and-comers was good enough to be his protégé. So my father allowed me onstage eventually, but only as his assistant. Every night, he sawed me in half, and levitated me high above the stage, and plucked coins from my ears, but I was never allowed to perform the effects myself. Instead, I learned and practiced all the techniques from his book in secret.”

  “I’d never be able keep the things I love secret,” Jaundice said. “Tying knots at night would be awful. You really need the right lighting.”

  “If I didn’t have the freedom to vacuum, I don’t know what I’d do,” admitted Kale.

  “After my father died, I didn’t know what to do,” admitted Magique. “I had myself and Albertine to feed, and the only skill I had was magic. Eventually, I remembered the one thing my father did willingly teach me: The show must go on.”

  Magique took a coin out of her pocket and laid it on the table. She tapped the shoulder of someone dining at the next table, a mousy young woman wearing a tweedy coat and hat.

  “Excuse me,” said the magician. “
Might I borrow your hat, just for a moment?”

  “I—I suppose so,” she said, handing it over. The woman dining with her was the one with the fur stole and the pearls and the white fluffy dog. She sighed.

  “Don’t encourage that woman, Vera,” she said.

  “Sorry, m’lady,” the tweedy woman said, bowing her head.

  “I’ll have it back to you in just a moment,” said Magique. She turned to Jaundice. “Heads or tails?”

  “Tails, I guess,” said Jaundice.

  The magician spun the coin, then placed the hat over it. When she lifted the hat, the coin was tails.

  “Do it again,” Jaundice said. “Heads this time.”

  Again, Magique spun the coin, then placed the hat over it. When she lifted the hat, the coin was heads.

  “Do it a third time, and I might actually be impressed,” said a man in a bow tie two tables over.

  The magician looked over at him and smiled. Again, she spun the coin, and covered it with the hat.

  “You call it this time, Mr. Hatchett,” she said.

  “Heads,” he said.

  When Magique lifted the hat, the coin was tails.

  “Aha,” the man said. He was standing over Magique’s shoulder now, and he looked very pleased with himself.

  “Aw,” said Kale. “Too bad. It was a really good trick, up to now.”

  “Wait,” said Magique, turning the hat over and looking into it. “I think there’s something in here . . .”

  She reached in, then pulled out her hand and opened it. Laying on her palm was the man’s bow tie. The man turned red as he felt around his neck, where his tie used to be.

  “I think this is yours,” she said, handing it over. Scowling, the man refastened the tie around his neck and retreated back to his table, where he and the gentleman with the walking stick began grumbling to each other. Magique returned the hat to the tweedy woman, who examined it closely before putting it back on her head.

  “Whoa,” said Jaundice.

  “You sure showed him,” said Kale.