“Choose? I still have a choice?”
“You are standing in the crossroads of life. Here we, the honored dead, can guide you to peace. . .” She closed her eyes. “Or, if you still have the strength and the will, we can guide you back to the land of the living.”
I felt an icy lump in my chest. My shoulder ached and my body grew heavy. “I’m so tired.”
“Then come with me and rest,” she said.
“No one will care . . . I was never special.” Once the sobbing started, I couldn’t bottle it up anymore. Soon it felt like a waterfall on my cheeks. My nose clogged up and I choked on snot. It wasn’t just an ugly cry. It was a sadness tsunami, and I rode the wave.
After what seemed like an eternity, Bush reached over and wiped my face with her arm. I stared guiltily at the damp fur.
“Look at me, child,” she said softly.
“I’m . . . I was nobody,” I replied, unable to lift my gaze from the ground.
“Look at me. There is something you should see.”
I finally looked up. As I met Bush’s gaze, we floated higher and higher until it seemed the whole world was nothing but a speck of light and only the endless array of stars twinkled around us. Bush gestured at the tiny, winking lights. “If you step back far enough, we are all tiny and insignificant . . . but if you change your perspective, if you just focus on what is close to you. . .”
I blinked my eyes and we were back in the clearing. Gone was the sky and the stars, the forest having morphed into a green barricade all around us.
I gasped as I saw myself lying bleeding and broken in the snow. Mr. Keyne applied pressure to the wound on my chest, while Dionaea and Boo held glowing hands over my side. Gary and Phil fretted on my other side while a tiny white Sasquatch cried alongside the braying form of Huge. Even Ash was there, kneeling and praying over her spear.
“Look closer, Jessie.”
I did and realized I could see myself reflected in all their worried gazes. Every one of them was focused on me, even Ash. The tears welled up as I thought of my cousins, Papa, Sensei McAdams. What about Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Camilla?
Above all else, what about . . . Dad? What would he do if I wasn’t there? Who would he come home to . . . to watch old movies or talk about work? Who would give him a hug when he had seen something awful but couldn’t put it into words?
“If you look close enough, you can be someone’s entire universe, Jessie,” Bush said. “Never forget that.”
“I’m tired and I hurt . . . but I can’t leave them. I guess . . . I still matter to them. I still . . . matter.”
Bush held me close. “You’ve always mattered.”
I held onto her as tightly as I could. The Jessie on the ground whimpered and the bite on her shoulder began to bleed even more. As the blood trickled out, a bit of black mist escaped as well. I looked back at Bush, but she seemed hazier, almost transparent now.
“I’m scared,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to do. I failed. I failed, and I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t do what they wanted me to do.”
“Save your strength,” Bush said, fading a little more. “You have many trials to come, little one.”
Everything grew cold and heavy. The pain started as a dull ache, but I could feel it rising by the second. I had to say it one more time. “I’m so sorry, Bush.”
She helped me lie down where the other me was. Bush squeezed my hand and smiled one last time. As she faded into the light I could just barely hear, “We all fail, we all fall. . .”
I felt a crushing weight on my chest. The pain was rushing back.
“It is how we get back up that matters.”
Chapter Forty-Six: Sick Day
“She’s reactin’ badly to the magic, darlin’. I can’t seem to get ahead of the bleeding—”
“Keep trying! I’ll help.”
“Please, Pretty, don’t die. Don’t leave Floof.”
Now firmly settled in my body again, I coughed, spitting up a mouthful of blood. Living really, really hurt.
“Maybe magic isn’t the answer,” I heard Mr. Keyne’s voice say. “Perhaps we should have a little faith in humanity for a change.”
“What? I don’t know anything about—”
“He means a hospital, Gare-bear,” Phil’s voice replied. “Good idea. You there, plant girl, help me carve a sending circle.”
A circle—that sounded nice. Not as nice as an ambulance, but then, maybe those were hard to come by in the Arctic Circle.
Yeah, I think I’ll pass out now.
♦ ♦ ♦
For the longest time I felt all . . . floaty. I kept wondering if I’d see Bush again, but then a jolt of pain would remind me I was still bound to my mortal coil, even if it all felt detached.
After a while, I could hear sounds in the fog—beeps, whooshes, faint voices saying things like “surgery” and “wait-and-see.” I’d try to wake up to tell them I was okay, but then I’d drift away again.
At one point a familiar smell caught my nose—cigarette smoke. Were you allowed to smoke in a hospital? Was I even in a hospital?
“What are you doing, Aunt Phil?” I knew that voice. It was a nice voice—wait, or was it a bad voice? It was hard to think in the fog.
“I’m trying to help her. One more dose—”
“Might kill her!” There were cojones in the—Gary’s—voice that I hadn’t heard before.
Good for you, Gare-bear.
I must’ve zoned out again, thanks to all the yummy drugs through my veins, but they were still arguing when next my mind surfaced from the painkiller ocean.
“Don’t you get it, Aunt Phil? I made it all up. She’s not the Icon and was never going to be.”
“I understand you like this girl, Gare-bear, but you need to step back, get some perspective here.”
“Perspective? Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”
“Suffered enough? Do you have any idea what’s at stake here? What will happen to us if the Icon rises and isn’t under our control? Don’t you get it? If we find the Icon first, sway her, we have a chance—”
“I don’t care. Prophecies have been wrong before.”
“Not this one. Now get out of my way.”
“I won’t let you do this to her.”
“Don’t make me say this. . . Goddamn it, Gare-bear, we both know you can’t stop me.”
“Oh no? Watch me.”
There came the sound of something being knocked over, and I felt a pull on my arm . . . my IV being ripped out. In the next second, all manners of beeps and alarms went off.
“What have you done?”
The only answer that came was a bright light I could see even through my closed eyelids, followed by doctors and nurses rushing into my room.
Nope, not dealing with this now.
♦ ♦ ♦
I was coming back up from unconsciousness, albeit I wasn’t happy about it. The drugs which kept me under also kept the pain away. With wakefulness came the ouchies, as well as the memories of how badly I’d—
I heard the sound of sobbing, but it was gruff and deep. Was that Dad? It couldn’t be. Dad didn’t cry. He—
“. . . I don’t know what to do . . . nowhere else to turn . . . loyal . . . I’ve been a loyal servant for over twenty years.”
I felt a sinking sensation in my guts. Even with all the pain and the drugs, the dread still began to override my senses.
“I wanna see her, Viktor. That’s the price for my help.”
No way. It couldn’t be him. I tried to force my eyes open, to see for myself, but the stupid things weren’t in the mood to listen yet.
There was muffled arguing amidst the beeping, and the medicine made everything so hazy. Focus, Jessie. Focus, even though you don’t want to.
“No, you can’t—”
“With all due respect, Viktor, you get a pass because your daughter is in a bad way, but if you ever try to lay hands on me again, I will open up on you full-split. We clear,
old friend?”
There was no doubt about it. Wyatt was here and he was talking to my dad, speaking like they knew each other. “Now, you heard my price. I wanna see her. I’m cashing in favors for you here, so you’re gonna step aside and go get yourself some coffee. Then we’re gonna talk a lil’ more business.”
“All right, but—”
“You’ll be right outside. I know, and I’m sure you got silver bullets in your six-shooter there along with no compunction about ending us both if anything happens to your precious baby, right? I get it, man. Believe me, I do. Now, scoot on outta here.”
Once the door shut, I could sense Wyatt stepping to my side. Whatever fantasy reunion I might’ve imagined between us didn’t involve my being in the hospital and him knowing my dad.
Did that mean. . .?
“Hey there, kid. I can hear your heart fluttering, so I know you ain’t asleep, but hopefully there’s enough happy juice in your system for you to not freak out, or whatever the kids call it these days.” I felt him lean close to me. “I ain’t gonna lie to you or pretend you ain’t heard what you just did. Yeah, I know your daddy. He’s worked for us for a long time. Now, don’t you be thinking less of him. Hell, there ain’t many cops in Massachusetts that aren’t directly or indirectly on the payroll. It’s just the way it is. When you got hurt, he reached out for our help. Fortunately for you, darlin’, you got two lucky stars looking out for you. Your daddy cares for you somethin’ fierce. As for me, well, I ain’t found anybody better yet and you ain’t dead, so you’re still my girl, which means I’ll take care of you.” I felt him back away. “You rest easy, darlin’, and I’ll see you when you get better . . . if I can.”
“Why?” I wheezed.
“You saying my name or asking a question, Jessie? I guess it don’t matter much which. Just get better and know that if I ever find whatever did this to you, there shall be quite the reckoning.”
Chapter Forty-Seven: Homecoming
“Fortunately, the human body only needs one kidney, so it’s a good thing I had a spare.” I tried to keep it as light as possible as the doc relayed exactly how bad my injuries were. I’d been right—every wound my magical hair had fixed had come right back, including ones I hadn’t even sustained. My midsection was a mess of puncture wounds and scars while my femur had to be screwed together in roughly the same place where Huge had broken his. Then there was my right arm, with enough Greek letters carved into it to put a frat house to shame and, worst of all, it really itched.
My dad kept smiling, but I could see the strain on his face as he talked to specialist after specialist. He tried to keep the worst from me, but deafness was not on my injury list. Apparently if I hadn’t been young and healthy . . . or if my heart had been just slightly higher in my chest, maybe Sasquatch size, I’d be as dead as a doornail.
Eventually I was strong enough where the small talk petered out and Dad put on his serious face. “I know this might be tough to talk about, Jessie, but I need to know what happened to you.”
Sit back, Dad, because I’ve got a story full of prophecies, death otters, and a peace conference between vampires and Bigfoot. “I’m sorry, but it’s all really hazy. I don’t remember much.” Yeah, it was a copout, but the reality was, I had no idea how to tell him the truth, even now that I knew he was aware of the things that went bump in the night.
“Why were you alone in the city at night? They said they found you downtown, but nothing was called in—”
“I don’t remember, I’m sorry.” That much was true. How did I even get back to Worcester?
“Kiddo, this might sound strange, but do you feel like somehow someone told you not to remember what happened?” Dad furrowed his brows and gave me a strange look.
I should have opened up then and there, but instead I coughed, winced, and looked pathetic enough so that he dropped it for now, allowing me to glance over at the small mountain of balloons and get well cards from my family.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the other guy?” Dad asked softly.
“Other . . . guy?”
“Does Gary know you’ve been dating that quarterback from your school? ‘Cause I sure as heck didn’t.”
“T-Tony?” In all the craziness, I’d forgotten that Other Me had been busy in my absence. The question was how busy.
“Is that his name?” Dad raised the brow. This was not going to go well. I could feel it even through the painkillers. I nodded, shamefaced. “Anything else you’re not telling me?”
Only a story so crazy you’d probably have me locked up! “Not really. And I already told you Gary and I aren’t a thing.”
“Is that why he didn’t come to visit?”
I shrugged, not caring to either talk about it, or relive the strange fever dream—if it had even been a dream—of Gary and Phil arguing here in my room.
What will happen to us if the Icon rises and isn’t under our control?
♦ ♦ ♦
Tony popped in to see me one more time before I was discharged. He didn’t stay long—not that I could blame him since my family seemed to be keeping a round the clock vigil at my side as I healed and slowly made the transition from wheelchair to crutches.
He asked me to be his date at the Christmas dance, giving me a longing glance that I wished I could return. Other Me must’ve done a hell of a job. He probably deserved an Oscar. Unfortunately, real me had changed. Even as Tony gave me a tame kiss goodbye, I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but a slight tinge of sadness. The person I once was, including all the things she was once certain she wanted, was gone . . . and I had a feeling she wasn’t coming back.
Fortunately, there was enough to keep me distracted from such dark thoughts in the days that followed, even if most of it sucked. Going home was an adventure in relearning to do all the things that had once been easy. Then there was the mountain of make-up work from school waiting for me, not to mention my family. Much as I loved them, their doting soon grew tiresome. It was all I could do to wait for the day when I could return to school and go back to sitting by myself again at the wonky table in the corner.
The only upside was that I was young, athletic, and healthy, which meant I healed quickly. It wasn’t long before I was ready to leave the couch, which I’d been parked on since returning home, and was ready to make the trek up the stairs back to the sanctity of my own room.
Opening the door to my bedroom and letting myself in, I felt like a stranger. It was as if a whole lifetime had passed since I’d been here, propped up on my bed reading and generally not worrying about anything other than my next shift at Justice Comics.
I sat down, doing what I could to keep the tears from falling, and looked around. It was weird. All at once so alien, yet so familiar. There was my Punisher poster hanging over my closet door, my resin statue of Batman fighting the Joker, and even the laundry pile was still there complete with my Rocketeer Red Panda backpack sticking out of. . .
Hold on.
That had been one of the items I’d brought with me to Canada. How had it gotten back here?
Regretting the fact that I had to move again so soon after settling down, I rolled out of bed and limped over to it. I picked it up, then plopped back down onto my bed to start digging.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting to find, but my bag’s current contents left me underwhelmed. I saw a few items of clothes along with my phone charger. Nothing remained of my trip to the Woods of Mourning—no necklace, no armor, not even the sweater made of Fluff hair. It had all been taken, sanitized of anything even remotely out of the. . .
Wait a second.
Sitting beneath one of my old sweatshirts at the very bottom was a battered packet labeled Toastee Deelightz. A sticky note had been stuck to the front.
“I was told to wipe it all, but I left you this. It’s not much, but I figured you deserved at least one souvenir—G-Bear.”
I wasn’t sure whether to cry or scream, so instead I chose the middle road—binge e
ating.
“Here’s to you, Mr. Keyne.”
Making it a point to not look at the expiration date, I tore open the packet and beheld the somewhat bland-looking morsel waiting inside. Pink and tan swirled frosting greeted me, topped by bright red sprinkles.
“Yay. It’s a Canadian party in every box,” I said to myself, taking a bite. Ah, syrup and artificial berries. The gritty pastry hit my tongue and I gave my head a pleasant nod. I had no idea how long this had been sitting up in the frozen wilderness, but the taste was more pleasurable than I expected. The generic American brands could learn a thing or two from their Canuck brothers.
“Down the hatch, eh,” I said to myself, then proceeded to wolf down the rest with no regrets.
Chapter Forty-Eight: The Last Dance
There’s nothing quite like expired mass-produced pockets of unidentifiable ingredients to make you regret your life’s choices. After suffering most of the morning locked in the bathroom, I emerged to find I had company waiting for me downstairs.
Sensei had stopped by to see me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face any magicians again so soon, but the look on her face convinced me to at least give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Jessie . . . I . . . If I had known what Philomena was plotting, damn it, I would have stepped in sooner. I . . . failed you and I’m so sorry.”
“Do you know now?”
My teacher nodded and looked away.
“Good, because I’m still not entirely sure myself, and since I’m missing a few internal organs . . . and will most likely have one leg shorter than the other, I’d really love to hear someone explain it to me.”
She nodded and then looked around, especially toward the kitchen where my dad had wandered off to give us a minute alone. “How does discussing it over coffee sound?”
Some fresh air sounded good, so I wasn’t about to argue. Dad offered to drive us, but she pulled out the girl-talk card, and he was smart enough to not want any part of that.
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