by Eric Nylund
Sarah looked shocked.
Jeremy gave her a subtle look, and there passed between them some kind of speed-of-light nonverbal communication-just as Eliot and Fiona sometimes managed, but on a frequency Eliot couldn’t decipher.
Sarah twisted back around, uncertainty and fear in her eyes, but she nodded. “Of course we’ll be going.”
“Uh. . thanks,” Eliot said.
Something nagged Eliot about Sarah’s reaction and Jeremy’s never-fading mischievous grin, and how easily he’d agreed to risk his own neck. But who was he to understand the motivations of a nineteenth-century Scottish conjurer, one who’d been stuck in the Valley of the New Year for hundreds of years and then thrown into the present?
Eliot turned to Fiona.
Fiona hadn’t unfolded her arms. She hadn’t dropped her narrowed slit of a stare, either. If anything, her arms were more tightly crossed and her gaze sharper as she turned and assessed them all.
“Don’t encourage his suicidal delusions of grandeur,” Fiona told them.
Eliot wanted to admit to her that above all others, he needed her help on this-that they were stronger together. But he couldn’t say any of those things. It’d just give her a reason to stay-be the anchor that kept him here. . because she was that stubborn.
He took a step closer to his sister and whispered, “In Costa Esmeralda, when you were about to get cut down by that strafing MiG-I didn’t tell you what you were doing was suicidal or a delusion of grandeur.”
“That was completely different,” she whispered back, her face scrunching into angry lines. “People’s lives were at stake.”
“Yeah, it was different,” Eliot told her. “I didn’t ask any questions when I stepped between you and certain death. I just saved your life because I’m your brother, and that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Fiona’s eyes went wide and her gaze bored into his.
“You owe me,” he said.
It was a rotten card to play on his sister, but Eliot had to. He needed her. . even if it meant she’d be mad at him for the rest of his life.
Fiona hissed through clenched teeth, and it sounded like exploding steam. “You’re going to get yourself and the rest of the team killed.” Shaking her head, she continued. “So, I cannot believe I am saying this-but all right, I’ll go. If for no other reason to make sure you all come back in one stupid piece.”
Eliot wished he could tell her how much her coming meant to him, but he only managed a nod.
“But we make a beeline straight for Jezebel,” Fiona told him. “Get her if we can and get out. And if things get too dangerous, we stop and turn back.”
“Sure,” Eliot said.
He looked over his teammates and considered telling them everything. They deserved to know all the details of Jezebel and her ties to the land.
He exhaled and shut his mouth.
He wished Mitch were here. His white magic had kept them safe before from the shadows. That would have come in handy. And having him there would have been a great boost to Fiona’s morale.
Robert glanced at his wristwatch. “You said there was a train to catch?”
Eliot stuffed his moral misgivings into a dark corner of his mind to sort through later. “Yeah,” he replied, “there’s a secret entrance to the Night Train under the Market Street BART station.”
Sarah pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll have a cab meet us outside the Front Gate.”
Before Sarah punched a single button, however, another phone jangled: an old-fashioned trilling bell inside Miss Westin’s office.
The sound went straight through Eliot’s skull and down his spine like a shock.
He jumped. And so did Fiona.
They looked at each other. Fiona’s eyes were wide and her pulse pounded along her neck. Both of them went still.
The phone jangled again (he swore this time louder and sounding impatient).
Eliot and Fiona together whispered, “Audrey.”
“She knows,” Fiona said.
Eliot wasn’t sure how they knew it was Audrey, or how they knew she knew what they were about to attempt. . but he knew that feeling was right. Why else would she be calling Miss Westin at this exact moment?
There was a third ring-although this one terminated mid-jangle.
Eliot breathed a sigh of relief.
But an instant later, from inside Fiona’s book bag came the stirring notes of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” Her cell phone’s ring tone.
“Don’t answer it,” Eliot said.
Fiona pursed her lips, and he could see her mentally teetering back and forth, deciding. . but then she nodded.
“Come on,” he told them all, “we don’t have much time.” He sprinted for the stairs.
They followed, running as if the building were on fire.
________
Eliot stared at the sign hung on the ticket booth window. He couldn’t believe it. All that convincing and cajoling, all the struggling to overcome the moral ambiguity of the situation. . for nothing.
They’d ditched class, run out of Paxington, and caught one of the eco-friendly SF Green Cabs. (A wad of cash from Robert persuaded the driver to let them all squeeze in.)
They’d gotten to the Market Street BART station, tromped down the out-of-order escalator, and found the hole in the wall. After carefully crossing the tracks, they’d entered the breach and clambered down the steep staircase into the hidden Infernal train station.
Only to find the ticket booth abandoned, and a sign that read
All trains, including but not limited to: the Marshall Pass Express; the Six Pence; and Der Nachtzug (aka the “Night Train”) are hereby suspended due to civil conflicts in the realms they service. The management apologizes for any inconvenience this may cause, and full service shall resume as soon as possible (as demanded and required by the Infernal Transportation Code, Section IX).
“Rotten luck,” Jeremy said, reading over Eliot’s shoulder. “I suppose our dear Jezebel will have to fend for herself.” There was genuine disappointment in his voice.
“But there’s another way,” Fiona said. She stared at Eliot. “And you’re going to try it, aren’t you? No matter how dangerous it is.”
“I am,” he said. “Even if it is the long way around.”
“What do you mean ‘dangerous’ and ‘long way’?” Amanda asked, her fingers worrying together.
Fiona held up a hand to forestall questions, got her cell phone, and dialed. She handed it to Eliot.
“She said she’d give us a ride if we ever needed one,” Fiona told him. “But you’re going to have to ask her.”
Eliot scanned the number and name just before the phone connected.
“Hi? Aunt Dallas? It’s Eliot and Fiona. We kind of need a lift.”
Fiona rolled her eyes at this colossal understatement.
“Really? Thanks. Where? I can explain on the way. Oh, uh, okay. . well, Uncle Kino’s graveyard. The Little Chicken Gate.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, so Eliot continued, “I need you to keep quiet about it. Yes-I’ll explain everything. Outside the BART station on Market Street. Okay. Thanks again. Bye.”
He handed the phone back to Fiona.
“She’s picking us up in five minutes,” Eliot said.
“And taking us where?” Robert asked, looking concerned for the first time since agreeing to go.
Eliot swallowed, and then replied, “The Lands of the Dead.”
68 NOT A TIME TO BE COY
Fiona tried to scrunch down low so no one would see her as Aunt Dallas turned her 1968 VW van into Presidio Park.
Talk about embarrassing. Even in San Francisco, the van got looks. It was painted in tie-dye swirls, and over that were plastered decals of cherry and peach blossoms. It looked like the van had tumbled through an orchard and then thrown up rainbows. It also left a litter of real flowers in its wake.
Dallas kept well below the posted speed limit as they wo
und along the streets, creeping past a funeral in progress.
Fiona didn’t see any of the roads Uncle Kino had used. . and wondered if she’d ever have found her way back to the entrance of the Lands of the Dead by herself.
She glanced to the front passenger’s seat, where Dallas had insisted Eliot sit (much to Jeremy’s disappointment). Eliot scrutinized every tree and tombstone, leaning forward and searching.
Fiona hoped Eliot survived this attempt at heroics, and that he survived Jezebel. All by herself, that girl was more treacherous to her brother’s well-being than any gym class or duel.
Fiona shifted in her seat.
By some unfortunate quirk, she sat next to Jeremy and Sarah on the middle bench of the van. Jeremy slid into her at every turn, no matter how slight.
Behind them, Robert stretched out, and Amanda had wedged herself in a corner of the backseat.
When Aunt Dallas had picked them up, both Covingtons had greeted her with great formality-even though Dallas looked like a college drop-out in her cut-off shorts, flip-flops, and a top that was little more than a handkerchief and spaghetti straps. Of course, thanks to Miss Westin’s Mythology 101 class, they knew she was the goddess Clothos, sometimes called Mother Nature, and a dozen other equally impressive names throughout history.
Aunt Dallas had smiled at Sarah. . not so much at Jeremy (who couldn’t take his eyes off her tanned skin).
When she saw Amanda, however, Dallas made much over her, running her fingers through her tangled hair as if she were a beloved pet, and somehow smoothing out the mess and restoring its fiery luster. Amanda had hugged her, briefly but fiercely.
Robert bowed and muttered a greeting. Dallas had ordered him to sit in the very back. This chilly exchange had to be due to the fallout from when Robert quit working for Uncle Henry. Apparently, employees of the League were only rarely terminated (in the nonlethal sense of the word).
And Dallas’s greeting of Fiona. . well, there were no embraces or smiles. Dallas hadn’t been able to get past her disappointment that Fiona wore her old, ill-fitting Paxington uniform.
Fiona tried to explain that Madame Cobweb’s custom creation was dirty (as in blasted to tatters by an exploding tank) but Dallas hadn’t listened.
Once the greetings were over, though, Dallas turned to Eliot and said, “Tell me what this is all about. And don’t skip any details-especially about this girl.”
No one had mentioned anything about a girl. Somehow Dallas just knew.
Eliot took a deep breath and told his story: who exactly Jezebel was-even how she’d been Julie Marks, died, went to Hell, and then got recruited by the Infernals to tempt him.
All light and happiness drained from Dallas’s features as she listened.
Eliot explained that back in Del Sombra, Julie could have brought him over-but she didn’t. Then she got punished and changed by the Infernals into one of them. . although this last bit, Eliot admitted, was a guess on his part.
He went on telling Dallas that Team Scarab needed Jezebel to win the next match and their finals.
Dallas then turned her attention back to the road as it turned deeper into forested graveyards. The asphalt became covered in eucalyptus leaves, shadows crisscrossed their way, and the breeze stilled. It looked like no one had traveled down here in months.
The van whooshed through the leaves and the way became a dirt path that wound through trees and crowded headstones that leaned at odd angles.
The road branched, one way back to Presidio Park, and one way blocked by two posts with a chicken wire gate hung between them. A rooster perched upon a faded sun had been carved on one of the posts.
“Wait inside,” Dallas ordered them.
She got out and examined the posts, and then got on her knees and looked up at the gate.
Jeremy leaned forward to get a better look (and not at the gate).
Fiona elbowed him.
Jeremy slammed back into the seat. “No harm done, dearest Fiona,” he said, gasping. “Just observing the local scenery.”
Behind them, Amanda gagged with disgust.
Dallas stood, hands on her hip, and touched the gate. With a squeak, the chicken wire door swung open.
A breeze swirled eucalyptus leaves into the air-blinding them to the outside world.
Dallas opened the driver’s door and climbed in.
The leaves ceased their motion and dropped immediately to the ground.
Fiona got that “elevator sinking” feeling she was beginning to associate with shifts in space, although it looked as if nothing had changed.
Dallas swung her knees around to face Eliot. “Before we go any further,” she said, “there are things I must tell you, and one thing I’ve got to get straight from you, nephew of mine.”
Eliot swallowed. “Sure.”
Fog covered the sky and the sun dimmed.
“Heroes are always tromping off to Hell,” Dallas whispered, “but only the ones with a good reason return to tell the tale.”
Eliot squirmed in his seat.
He was hiding something. Eliot was lousy at keeping secrets. They both were. Why bother to develop such a talent when Audrey had seen through every fib they’d ever told in their adolescent lives?
“For every Orpheus or Ulysses or Dante who came back,” Dallas continued, “there were hundreds looking for knowledge, or eternal youth, or just very uncool treasure seekers”-she cast a sidelong glance at Jeremy-“and those guys never get out.”
It was Jeremy’s turn to squirm now.
Fiona pressed her lips into a straight line. This was ridiculous. She and Eliot had faced monster crocodiles and Infernal lords. Sure, a trip to Hell wasn’t going to be easy-but they could handle it.
“We’re not little kids,” Fiona said.
Dallas held up a finger to silence Fiona.
Fiona (quite involuntarily) shut her mouth.
“So, clue me in, Eliot,” Dallas said. “Tell me there’s more to this than passing a gym class.”
“Well,” Eliot replied, his voice dry, “if we don’t pass gym, we don’t graduate our freshman year at Paxington.” His gaze dropped to his lap.
Dallas lifted his chin so he couldn’t look away. “There’s a time when it’s cool to be coy,” she whispered. “This ain’t one of them.”
“Okay,” Eliot said. “. . I care for her.”
“Care?” Dallas asked. “I care about puppies and daffodils, but I wouldn’t risk my life for them. I wouldn’t risk the souls of my friends and family, either.”
Dallas scooted closer to Eliot. “Give me the truth and nothin’ but, or I turn around.”
Eliot flushed.
Fiona felt the heat from Eliot where she sat, but he wasn’t embarrassed; his eyes gazed straight into Dallas’s.
“I love her.”
Dallas was quiet and stared back, nodding.
“When I think of Jezebel,” Eliot whispered, “I burn. I can’t think of anyone or anything else. I’d risk everything I had, or ever will have, for her.”
Fiona’s mouth opened to protest. Or maybe it’d just dropped open from the shock of hearing those words come out of her brother. . the only occasionally heroic, and always nerd-now so determined, and against all odds. . so romantic.
It was a side of him she’d never seen. A side, quite frankly, so devoid of reason, she could have done without.
And yet, it might be a sign that her immature brother was finally growing up. He was making the wrong choices, sure. . but at least making his own wrong choices for once.
Jeremy rolled his eyes. Wisely, though, he said nothing.
Sarah and Amanda sat on the edge of their seats. They hung on Eliot’s words.
Robert looked outside, pretending not to hear. (This had to be a macho guy thing; they’d die before they’d ever admit to having a romantic bone in their body.)
Dallas sighed and fanned her face and chest. “I believe you, and I’ll do everything I can to help.”
She put the van
in neutral and rolled through the gate.
Then Dallas floored it.
The van raced down a stone-paved path and through a city of mausoleums. Rows of gravestones stretched to the horizon.
They went over a hill, and there were lawns and fields and a clear river running alongside them. Many mausoleums here had their walls torn down, and the stones used for barbecues and playgrounds and handball courts. People tossed Frisbees and ran and laughed and ate and drank and looked like they were having the time of their lives.
Fiona shuddered. But that wasn’t right: no one here was having the “time of their lives”. . because they were all dead.
The honored dead, Uncle Kino had called them, resting here before they went somewhere else. “The dead are restless,” he’d said. “No one living, not even I, understands what moves them.”
The van’s rear wheels slipped on a patch of grass. Dallas leaned over the steering wheel, concentrating.
Fiona checked her seat belt. “What’s the rush? We want to get there in one piece, right?”
“Exactly why we need speed,” Dallas said.
They slid around a curve. The van bounced, rocked, almost tipping.
“Kino has alarms that go off when anything alive enters his domain,” Dallas said. “His guards will investigate, and then they’ll fink us out.”
She swerved around a tree growing in the middle of the road. The side mirror hit and shattered.
“Why should Kino care who comes here?” Eliot asked, hanging on with both hands to a ceiling strap.
“He protects Elysium Fields,” Dallas replied. “Infernals, Outsiders, and Older Things always try and muck up the natural order. They collect souls.”
Eliot looked at Fiona and shrugged.
Jeremy, though, nodded. He apparently had more experience with the dead, having spent centuries in the Valley of the New Year in Purgatory.
“I can get you to the edge of the Borderlands,” Dallas said. “If I cross that, then Kino himself will notice and personally come. That would put an end to everyone’s trip.”
Fiona remembered how mean her Uncle Kino was. Worse even than Mr. Ma.
