by R. E. Vance
“Language,” Judith scolded.
“Language, indeed.” Penemue turned around and winked at Sinbad. “Did you know that I taught humanity how to read?”
“You did?” Sinbad asked with unabashed sincerity.
“I did. It was a long, long time ago. Before you were born, before anyone in this room was born, I gave humanity the first inclination toward language. And then I went to Hell.”
“Wow,” Sinbad said. “That was really nice of you, Mr. Angel.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Oh, please,” Judith growled. “He may have given humanity the written word, but that does not excuse him from being a giant pain in our—”
“Language!” EightBall, Penemue and I sang in chorus.
“—butt. I was going to say ‘butt,’ ” she chuckled.
Chapter 5
Fairies, Snakes, Angels and—Arrgh!
The next few hours were so tranquil that I didn’t even ask those burning questions of who this Sinbad was and where she came from. That could wait until the morning.
Bedtime rolled around and Sinbad went up to Judith’s room, where the ghost promised her pajamas and another story. Penemue returned to his attic room and EightBall said he was turning in early because he wanted to get to the lawn before the afternoon sun got too hot. Hellelujah! I don’t think I ever saw the boy mow a lawn, let alone get up early.
But who was I to complain?
I went to my room, still fully planning on staging a battle with my vintage figurines. I found that playing helped a lot in calming my mind and getting me to a place where I could make rational, clear decisions. I had a lot to consider: Cain’s offer, Shouf’s blackmailing me, Paradise Lot and the Millennium Hotel. The bills were stacking up higher than ever and the daily Other drama wasn’t getting any better. Not to mention Judith’s odd behavior, the weird Other that looked like a little girl but claimed to be a fictional pirate and my own desire to get out, tempered by the truly incredible time I just had with the very same people that usually drove me crazy.
I honestly didn’t know where to begin. So I looked forward to an hour or two of indulgent play.
Except that when I got into my room, I found half my toys on the floor, the other half knocked over, teetering for dear life.
A snake coiled around Castle Grayskull—one of my signature pieces—and a three-inch-tall golden fairy was flitting around the snake, batting it on the head with He-Man’s battle axe.
“Tink! Marty! What the hell are you two doing?” I ran over to the castle and pulled Marty the snake off the toy replica, grabbing the battle axe out of Tink’s hand at the same time. “Seriously, what are you two doing?” I barked.
Tink flew at Marty, who snapped at her as she whizzed by.
“Stop it. Both of you!”
Marty coiled around my arm, lifting himself up so that he was about three inches away from my face. Then he did what he always does when he sees me: he hissed. He was one of Medusa’s snakes—her lead one from what I could tell—and when we were dating, Marty did everything in his power to make things uncomfortable for me.
But when Medusa died, Marty moved in with me. I don’t know why, and I never asked. I guessed that he wanted to be with someone else who also cared for the person who had always been—quite literally—a part of him.
As for Tink—that’s a long story. To sum up in five simple, terrible sentences: I killed her guardian. She needed a guardian. I became her guardian. She lived with me for many years. Then she found another guardian: a demigod named CaCa.
From what I could gather, Tink was unique. Think of her as what the Loch Ness was to us before the gods left. Most Others believed Tink to be a legend, a myth, and if they were to discover that she was real, many would seek to possess her.
For six years Tink lived with me, finding a comfortable enough home in Castle Grayskull after I filled it with dolls’ furniture.
And as for her name? I dubbed her “TinkerBelle” after the only other fairy I knew at the time. She never complained. Not that she could. She couldn’t speak—but in the time we lived together we both learned how to play Charades with eerie accuracy.
“First of all, Marty: I told you all about Tink when you moved in. Castle Grayskull is hers, if she wants it back.” I pointed at Tink. “And as for you—what happened? I thought you were living with CaCa now.”
She mimed that they had a fight and then buzzed around angrily. She landed on one of Castle Grayskull’s turrets, folding her legs and resting her head on her fist.
“OK, so you two had a fight. That happens. Couples fight.”
Oh—I should mention CaCa was also her boyfriend.
Tink shrugged and then gestured that she needed a break.
“But he loves you.”
She laced her hands and in an exaggerated motion pulled them close to her chest, big fake smile on her face. Then she grimaced.
“You’re wrong. Love is enough.”
Taking to the air, she wiped her hands together—our symbol for I don’t want to talk about it—and pointed at Marty.
“Medusa’s snake.”
Marty hissed.
“And my friend,” I added.
Marty hissed again.
Tink’s eyes filled up with tears, but I cut her off.
“Please, Tink. I can’t go down that road. Not today. I’m too … too. I just too.” I wiped my own hands together.
Tink nodded, wiping her eyes, and landed in front of Marty. In front of him, she mimed her condolences for his loss. Marty lowered his head in a pose that must mean sadness in snake-speak, then closed his eyes before nudging her with the crown of his head. The three-inch fairy patted him on the crown and hugged him.
Grief and empathy—it can bond even the most staunch of enemies.
“Tink,” I said as she swayed back and forth on Marty. “You staying long?”
She grimaced in my direction and I raised my hands up in mock surrender.
“You can stay as long as you want. I’m just checking.”
Marty hissed, to which Tink scowled in response, ending their temporary truce.
“Guys, guys—”
But before I could put on my UN Peacekeeper hat again, my phone rang.
Actually, it trumpeted its custom ring that I programmed it to do when a certain archangel called: Michael.
“Hellelujah!” I cursed.
Chapter 6
That’s Captain Archangel to You
I left Tink and Marty to figure it out, fairly confident that they would adhere to the Don’t eat, don’t disintegrate with magical fairy dust rules.
I looked at the screen, still flashing Chief Michael. Once-upon-a-time the archangel was one of the highest authorities in the universe. He had been the celestial enforcer, divine judge and wrathful executor all wrapped into one ten-foot-tall, six-winged, over-powered super being. When the gods left, he gave up all those lofty titles in exchange for Paradise Lot’s police chief.
I sighed as I clicked Answer and put the phone to my ear.
“Jean-Luc,” Michael said with an ominous boom.
“Michael,” I echoed back, less ominous and even less boom-y.
Michael paused, probably considering whether or not it was worth his time to tell me to stop joking around. A heard a heavy sigh that sounded more like a truck downshifting before he bellowed, “You are needed.”
“OK,” I said. “But I have other plans.” That was a half-truth. I was kind of on call with General Shouf and her Unidentified Other. Plus I had to bake for a memorial that I didn’t want to go to and—
“Jean-Luc. Need I remind you that—”
“Let me guess. I owe you? Join the club.”
“I was going to say that the world is in a precarious balance. We are teetering on the edge and should we fall, the humans will wage war against Others. A war that cannot be ignored. A war in which none of us can be neutral. Even you.”
“Way to go for the jugular,” I said.
“JEAN-LUC.”
Michael’s thunderous voice had a way of making everything sound grave and perilous. I once heard him tell a child that Vegetables make you big and strong. You want to be big and strong, do you not? I swear that kid took one look at Michael then downed his plate of broccoli like his life depended on it. Then he asked for seconds. Somewhere out there is a mother who is begging her child to stop with the vegetables.
Still, for Michael there was grave-and-perilous and then there was This is the end, prepare your soul. The way Michael sounded on the phone right now, I was pretty sure we were dealing with the latter.
“OK,” I sighed. “What’s up?”
“There has been a kidnapping. A human child.”
“Jesus—”
“Blasphemy!”
“Jesus … wouldn’t approve,” I pivoted. “We can all agree on that, can’t we?”
Silence—if you can call heavy breathing that sounded like a Humvee idling “silence.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Please continue.”
“A child has been kidnapped. We don’t know much yet, but we are fairly confident that an Other of considerable power is behind this.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the child was asleep in a household imbued with Memnock Securities’ latest technology. Bypassing such security requires power.”
“Or a hacker.”
“And a hacker. It is likely the kidnappers employed both magical and technological measures to obtain the child.”
This was serious. A child being kidnapped was always a big deal, but if the kidnapper was an Other, that made things all the more complicated.
And then it hit me—Shouf’s rampaging Other. South side of the island. There was a connect there.
Still, what could I do? Shouf hadn’t called, so the creature must already be gone, and I was home and tired. “Michael, I get that this is a big deal, but I’m not qualified. I’m a hotelier. A bad one at that.” Guilt bubbled up in me as I tried to get out of helping, but I really was just so tired of it all.
Michael must have sensed this, because he said, “This isn’t you. Normally I would be begging you to stay out of this, Human Jean-Luc. What is ailing you?”
Oh, great. Now Michael was worried about me. Couldn’t I wallow in peace? “Don’t you have detectives who can handle this?” I tried.
“It was in a human-only compound on the south side of Paradise Lot. My Other detectives will not be welcome there. And the only human detective we have on staff is a rookie. We need someone with experience and knowledge of Other modus operandi.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, you are a Paradise Lot officer. I deputized you, remember?”
GoneGodDamn it!
I did remember. When that near-apocalypse turned my world upside-down, amongst the many topsy-turvy things it did to me, Michael—going completely against his play-it-by-the-book nature—deputized me. There was no getting out of this. Not now. Still, I could investigate the situation without contacting Shouf. Some intel, then I could pacify the Other general.
“Mainland police have already been dispatched to the scene. They’re throwing about all kinds of theories, but they have no solid leads. Not as of yet.” Michael paused. “They don’t have Other experience, Jean-Luc. They’re scared. If we don’t handle this properly, this will be another reason for the humans to fear us. Another reason for them to hate us.”
“Yeah, I got you. What do you need me to do?” I asked reluctantly.
“Officer Conner is waiting for you with further instructions. Pick him up at the St. Mercy Hospital—and do try to be more detective and less Jean-Luc.”
I paused. “Michael, did you just make a joke?” First Judith and now Michael: the world really did end.
There was a long pause before Michael’s voice boomed, “Yes. Tried and evidently failed. GoneGodSpeed, Jean-Luc. GoneGodSpeed.” Michael clicked off the phone, leaving me staring at the blank screen. Marty and Tink looked at me, both shaking their head.
“Crap,” I said. “I gotta get out of here.”
Tink took to the air and rubbed her forefinger and thumb together as she mock-swooned—the universal gesture for the world’s smallest violin. She was right. I was acting like a brat. A child was in trouble and I could help.
Come on, Jean-Luc, I thought, your misery will be waiting for you when you get home. But first, the child.
I guess while I was doing my best to not co-exist with Michael, Tink and Marty had figured out a way to co-exist in Castle Grayskull. How? I have no idea, but I had to hand it to them—their conflict-resolution skills were way more honed than mine. So with a nod in their direction and a silent sigh to myself, I went down to my 1969 Plymouth Road Runner—an old steel bucket that’s been in the shop so many times, it was a wonder that it ran at all. I patted her leather dashboard and groaned, “Once more into the fray, into the last good fight I’ll ever know,” and put her into Drive.
↔
Officer Conner was leaning against the wall of the St. Mercy Hospital, wearing a plain blue long-sleeve shirt and jeans—and despite his casual appearance, he looked like he was posing for a photo shoot: chiseled jaw, melting blue eyes, abs you could play ping pong on … He was gorgeous. A fact that was accentuated by the person whose hand he held.
Or rather—the angel.
Standing much too close to be merely friends was the angel Miral, a being of grace and beauty like few others (and Others) on Earth. She wasn’t just model beautiful. She was beautiful-beautiful. As in, the word Beautiful would lobby to have Miral as its spokesperson.
Miral put a hand on Conner’s shoulder, gesturing for him to give us a minute. Then she walked over to the driver’s side window and knelt down. Even on her knees, she was still a couple inches taller than I was sitting down. The Road Runner may sit low, but it wasn’t that low.
“Human Jean-Luc,” she said. “I tried your recipe. My cookies came out a lot softer and tastier than yours.”
“Don’t rub it in, Miral.”
She gave me a surprisingly devilish smile. “Very well, I shan’t.” She tapped her taloned fingers on the car window’s ledge before she replaced her smile with a look of concern. “Conner told me what happened. No doubt you know how serious this is.”
“I know … a kidnapping Other, and on the heels of a near-apocalypse, no less. The gravity of the situation isn’t lost on me.”
She nodded. “I’m leaving town.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
She gave me a look that said, Now is not the time.
“Fine, I’ll bite … Oh, where art thou flittering to, great angel of mercy?”
“Humans and their humor. You know, your kind are not very funny. Whales, on the other hand … they are hilarious—”
“Where are you going?”
“To the mainland. They are debating a proposal put forth by Mr. Yew. A test to determine Other intelligence and capacities.”
“What? Like an IQ test?”
“Exactly like an IQ test, with questions that are only fair to ask of other humans. You cannot ask the average Other whether or not it is acceptable to shake hands at the beginning of an encounter when most Others don’t have hands.” She raised her talons by way of example. “And social constructs such as money? Equally unfair. Not without proper education first.”
“OK,” I said. “What does that have to do with you?”
“I have been invited to challenge this proposal.” She shook her head. “This is very dangerous for us. If such a test becomes mandatory, our position in the world will diminish and it will take generations to return from that.”
“Why? It’s just a test. Let them have their test and just ignore it.”
“For a man of so many abilities, I am constantly astounded at how ignorant you can be.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tell me, how do the authorities judge human capacity now? Through similar tests. Fail them and the government c
an determine you incompetent. They can put you in the care of the state, make major decisions for you such as where you live and what you are allowed to do. Make no mistake, this is the first step to crippling us as a whole.”
My jaw dropped open. Miral was right, and I hadn’t immediately been able to see through my human privilege for what this was. Throughout history, humans always tried to assert their superiority over other cultures and races. Certainly the Nazis were the most pronounced example, but there were plenty of others. The colonists’ treatment of Native Americans, Dutch missionaries in Malaysia, the temporary ban on Muslims and Mexicans entering the US … hell, pre–World War II Japanese in both China and Korea. Terrible black marks on human history. Black marks that you’d think were severe enough that we’d have learned our lesson.
Sadly, you’d be wrong.
And these new tests—they were no more than a thinly veiled attempt by my kind to assert their will over Others. A justification for further sanctions of the formerly divine.
I pursed my lips and nodded. “I’ll do my best. But if an Other is behind this, there is very little I can do about it.”
Miral sighed. “I know.” She stood up and gestured for Conner to come over. The man strolled over like he was working a catwalk. GoneGodDamn, he was good looking! As soon as he was close, Miral took his hand in hers and said to me, “Take care of him for me. He is your responsibility when I am gone.”
“Miral,” Conner interjected, “I can take care of myself.”
“I know.” She chuckled and pulled him in close for an intense, knee-wobbling kiss that made me blush and look away. “Now, you two get to work. I’ll see you in a few days.”
Chapter 7
Men in Love and Men in Uniform
When Paradise Lot became an Ellis Island of sorts for Others, the humans who had already been living here got scared, then nervous and finally—angry. Doing what humans always do, they bundled nervous, scared and angry into one neat little package of Otherphobia. Otherphobia comes in many sizes and shapes, from mild distrust all the way to Other-hating gangs like the HuMans.
