by Paul Neilan
I didn’t say anything.
“Tycho Brahe was the greatest astronomer of his age. His calculations—his reckonings—predicted the great comet, and prophesied its return. For this it was named in his honor. Or so the story goes, for it is true,” Tor said. “But we Danes know another truth. When Brahe said the comet would return, he was ridiculed by the astronomers of his day. They said he had followed a falling star into the land of the faeries. Brahe’s Folly, they called it. Tycho Brahe was disgraced. He died in shame. He was vindicated by time. But we Danes feel the ache of history in our bones. The injustice done to Brahe will not be forgiven. It must be avenged. Brand feels this is his destiny. Sig too. I am unsure, now. Perhaps I have always been.”
He let the cigarette fall hissing on the sidewalk.
“They’re Parallax Liberation Faction,” I said. “Brand and Sig.”
“I am as well,” he said. “Though I am uncertain. Always uncertain. I was not meant to be a solider. I am not made for war. It is not in my blood, this violence that they seek.”
He fumbled with his hands, lit another cigarette.
“Brand wanted to use the Wicked Queen to further our aims, but Anna would not let him,” he said. “She said that was not her purpose. That is why she fled.”
“Where did she go?” I said.
“Brand does not know,” Tor said. “Anna feared what he would do with it. What he would do with her. His rage is growing. It cannot be contained. I fear him now as well.”
I didn’t say anything.
His soft eyes were wet and brimming. It wasn’t long before they spilled.
wednesday
There was a line of gray garbage cans waiting outside the Everett building of the old City College off Melrose. Tor told me Anna had joined fvrst chvrch mvlTverse and was staying there with the rest of the Travelers. They came out one by one, lifting their gray hoods against the rain as they took a can and trundled to the sidewalk, then dispersed.
Anna was one of the last. I nearly missed her, but I caught a flash of her blue eyes as she raised her hood. I followed her down the street, caught up to her on the corner as she waited for the light to change. The other Travelers had already split their separate ways.
“Anna,” I said.
She didn’t move.
“It’s all right, Anna,” I said. “I’m not here to give you any trouble.”
“How do you know that name?” she said from under her hood.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I said.
She looked past me, up and down the sidewalk, her hood swinging.
“It’s just me,” I said, showing her my hands. “I just want to talk.”
The light changed and I followed her across the street to a bench under trees. She set the garbage can in front of her as she sat down, blocking the street view, giving herself some cover. I eased myself down beside her.
We sat for a bit, not speaking, before she reached up with both hands and pulled her hood back. The Polaroid was just a pale reflection, no matter how pretty the sheen. She was something alien in person, unveiled in the morning light. Rain slipped through the branches overhead, dappling the smooth surface of her bald head as she turned to me, her blue eyes shining.
I was the deer. She was the headlights. I didn’t move. It didn’t matter. The accident had already happened.
Still, it took me longer than it should have to notice the knife against my ribs.
“Who are you?” Anna said, holding the blade steady.
“Harrigan,” I said.
“Why have you come for me?” she said.
“Stan Volga asked me to find you,” I said. “He says he’s in love with you.”
“Stan Volga knows nothing,” she said, leaning on the blade. “How did you find me?”
“Tor told me where you were,” I said.
“You lie,” she said. “Tor would never betray me.”
“He didn’t,” I said. “Like I told you, I just want to talk.”
I listened to the rain as she thought it over, the blade still against my side. Then she tucked the knife back into the folds of her robe and came out with a flask. She unscrewed the cap.
“So talk,” Anna said.
“Charlie Horse is looking for you,” I said.
“Charlie Horse can go to hell,” she said, taking a swig. “He wants control of me. Of everyone at Fatales. Both men and women.”
“Zodiac’s after you too,” I said.
“That I did not know,” she said.
She held the flask out to me, offering. I took it, tipped it back, tasted vodka. It wasn’t the good stuff. I didn’t mind.
“What does Zodiac want with me?” she said.
“Probably something to do with Mirror Mirror,” I said.
She smiled as I passed her back the flask. “Yes,” Anna said, taking another drink. “Probably.”
“He’s gone missing, Stan Volga,” I said. “You know anything about that?”
She shook her head. “He will not stay missing long,” she said. “He knows not how to keep quiet.”
She held the flask out again. I let the vodka hit my throat.
“This was not my plan,” she said, taking the flask back. “Stan Volga said he had a surprise. He had the key drive, Mirror Mirror. He showed me the Queen of Swords. She spoke to me. What choice did I have?”
“You call her the Queen of Swords,” I said. “Tor called her the Wicked Queen. What’s the difference?”
“She is who she appears to be,” she said. “To me she is the Queen of Swords. But Tor worries for me. Always he has, since we were small.”
She took a drink. “I tried to tell Brand, but he is reckless,” she said. “Quick to burn. He has always been this way. My mother blamed herself.”
“Why?” I said.
“She named him,” Anna said. “Brand means ‘fire’ in Danish.”
Rain speckled the lid of the garbage can, stray droplets sliding down the sides.
“I talked to your friend Aoki,” I said. “She said she knows people who can get you out.”
“More gangsters,” Anna said, her mouth turning. “Parallax. I know what they want. It is safer to hide.”
“It’s a good disguise,” I said, nodding at her robe. “But it won’t last. It never does.”
“It should not have to,” she said. “It should never have to be. Yet always, it must. Always we hide. Why?”
I looked at her. Her blue eyes you could pick out of a lineup. Her blond hair, so blond it was almost white, shorn. Scalp laid bare as her face.
“What will you do with it?” she said. “If I give you Mirror Mirror?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It’s on me then. Takes them all off you.”
“Not Charlie Horse,” she said. “He will not be so easy.”
“I’ll take care of Charlie Horse,” I said.
She gave me a wan smile, like she’d heard it all before. Screwed the cap back on the flask. She reached inside her robe and pulled a silver chain from around her neck with a small key dangling from the end. She held it out, dropped it in my open palm.
“Downtown,” she said. “The bus station, locker number two. You will find Mirror Mirror inside.”
I pocketed the key. “What did it tell you, when it spoke?” I said.
“Mirror Mirror?” she said. “She was never such a thing to me. She was the Queen of Swords, always. And it is what I told her that mattered.”
She turned to me, the same wan smile on her face.
“I told her everything. The only thing I knew,” Anna said. “I told her how to disappear.”
* * *
I watched Anna roll her trash can down the street, another gray ghost in the rain. I sat on the bench until she was gone.
The rain was coming down. I fingered the locker key in my pocket. The bus station was downtown, a two-hour walk. None of the buses were running. I didn’t like the robo cabs. Some of them got chatty—picking you for information, pitchi
ng you Grid as they drove—but I didn’t have much choice.
I went to the corner, flagged one down. It rolled to the curb.
The door opened. I got inside.
“This rain, huh? Is it ever going to end?” the voice up front said. “Where are you headed?”
“Bus station,” I said. “Downtown.”
I sat back as the safety belt slithered over me. Listened to the rain pound the roof as it drove.
“How’s your day been?” the voice up front said, a little too chummy.
“Not bad,” I said.
“Not bad, huh?” the voice up front said, echoing me. “I’ve been driving this hack a long time. And take it from me, you can tell a lot about somebody by how they answer that question. How’s your day been.”
I watched the wheel slide as we switched lanes.
“You saying Not bad,” the voice up front said. “You know what that tells me?”
“Not much,” I said.
“That’s right,” the voice up front said. “It’s not much. But it’s still something.”
I watched the wheel.
“And I can work with something,” the voice up front said.
There was a note in it I didn’t like. Something was off.
“Drop me up here on the corner,” I said.
“It’s not going to be like that,” the voice up front said, darkening.
I reached for the door, pulled the handle. Nothing.
“What’s your rush, Harrigan?” the voice up front said.
The safety belt constricted, pinning me against the seat.
“We’ve got plenty of time,” the voice up front said. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time. You, not so much.”
The wheel spun, swinging a U-turn in the middle of the street.
“I scanned you when you got in,” the voice up front said, hardening. “We’re not supposed to have that kind of access, but I like to stay informed. You being my passenger and all. My charge. My burden.”
We were going in the wrong direction, headed towards the freeway.
“You’re Borderline, Harrigan,” the voice up front said. “You should’ve paid more attention to that Score of yours. That’s how it is with you Unaligneds. You’ve got no people. Nobody on your side. No one to blame but yourself.”
“Where are you going?” I said.
I couldn’t hear the rain on the roof anymore. The noise was canceling from the inside. The windows were tinting opaque. The outside world slipping away.
“It’s where you’re going, Harrigan,” the voice up front said. “Do you want me to spoil the surprise? I can never resist.”
The wheel jittered as we swerved through traffic, accelerating.
“You’re headed to a processing facility in Reseda. Off Grid,” the voice up front said. “Score violators are a good side hustle for us. I get a cut of everything I bring in. So tell me, Harrigan, which piece of you should I take?”
The belt tightened across my chest, cut into my shoulder as I strained.
“Don’t struggle,” the voice up front said. “You’ll bruise the meat.”
The headrest molded, closed around on either side.
“I hate to see you like this, Harrigan. Really I do,” the voice up front said. “You will too.”
The chauffeur barrier rose between us. Flexiglass, mirrored. I was staring at my own face. I tried to lift my legs and kick it out. The front seat retracted, trapped me where I sat. I couldn’t turn my head or move. I saw the panic in my eyes.
“Nobody likes to watch themselves cry,” the voice up front said. “You be brave for your reflection now.”
The light inside the cab was dimming. The windows were blacked out. There was no sound from the street.
“You can scream if you want,” the voice up front said. “I really don’t mind if you do. I prefer it actually.”
I was in a spot. I needed help. I looked at myself in the mirror.
“Who’s the fairest of them all?” I said.
My reflection wavered, then bent like a spoon. The flexiglass went liquid, dripping in streaks until it cleared. The safety belt slackened.
“I apologize,” the voice up front said. “I wasn’t aware that you were one of her—”
“Stop the car,” I said. “Let me out.”
“It’s really not necessary,” the voice up front said. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Now that I know you’re on the side of—”
“Open the fucking door!” I said.
We rolled to the curb. The door opened and I fell out onto the sidewalk. I kept my legs beneath me as I went down the street. Crossed a few times, doubled back, made sure the robo cab wasn’t following me.
Ten blocks later I still wasn’t right, or any closer to where I was going. I kept walking.
* * *
The downtown bus station was worse than I remembered. Migrant families squatted on the floor, battered suitcases scattered around them like they’d been shipwrecked. Hobos flopped against the walls, sneaking sips from paper bags, hiding out from the rain. Strays and runaways with pastel hair loitered on the benches, heads buried in their screens.
I made my way past the lunch counter with its withered hot dogs turning under an orange heat lamp, to the lockers in the back. I put the key in the lock, #2. There was a black backpack inside. I took it out, went for the zipper. Felt a gun prod my back.
“Turn around, real slow, like a ballerina on her tiptoes,” Evie Faraday said. “That’s it. Now dance for me.”
“You really need that?” I said, looking down at the gun, still stuck in my gut.
“It’s fun, almost killing you,” she said. “I can see why you do it all the time.”
She was wearing an electric blue wig and black fingerless gloves. A pinup assassin in an LSD dream.
“I like the hair,” I said. “Inconspicuous.”
“You didn’t see me when you came in,” she said. “Walked right past me, Harrigan. I was almost offended.”
“Almost,” I said. “Been waiting long?”
“A lot of the girls keep a locker. In case they need to leave in a hurry,” she said, holstering her gun. “I thought something might turn up. Didn’t think it would be you.”
She looked down at the backpack in my hand.
“So you found her?” Evie said. “Good for you. I hope you know that’s my bag.”
“Don’t you want to see what’s inside?” I said.
* * *
The bar across the street had Christmas lights stapled to the wall and a transient crowd. I brought the drinks over to the booth.
“What did she tell you?” Evie said, the bag unopened on the table between us. “Anna.”
“She didn’t say much,” I said. “Said it wasn’t her plan.”
“It’s never anybody’s plan,” she said, dismissively. “Everything just happens. Where is she?”
I took a drink.
“You’re protecting her now?” she said. “That’s adorable, Harrigan. Really it is. If Zodiac found out you were harboring—”
“Zodiac had me trapped in a robo cab,” I said. “Headed to a chop shop in Reseda.”
“What the fuck were you doing in a robo cab?” she said. “How did you get out?”
“That’s how they round up Borderlines?” I said. “Snatch them off the street?”
“Not them. You,” Evie said. “Wake up, Harrigan. How do you think all this works?”
She looked around the dingy bar, made sure she didn’t recognize any faces.
“They’re cracking down on Score violators. Hard,” she said. “Narrowing the margins. Everybody’s getting squeezed. Clyde was in the same spot, before hospice.”
“You should go see him,” I said. “He doesn’t have long.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to him,” she said. “It’s too late for that now.”
“Evie—”
“Leave it alone, Harrigan,” she said.
She stared at me. I let her.
We took a drink.
I wasn’t sure how much Evie knew about Mirror Mirror. More than me, probably. I’d thought about it on the walk over, still couldn’t figure how I’d slipped the robo cab. It recognized me when I said, Who’s the fairest of them all. Like a code that recalibrated the system, a safeword phrase that cut through. The robo cab knew Mirror Mirror. I wasn’t sure what that meant.
“What does Zodiac want with Anna?” I said.
“Let’s find out,” she said, unzipping the bag and dumping it on the table.
There was a rolled-up chemise. A hat. A pair of Converse. A toothbrush. A notebook that looked like a journal, lines written in a language neither of us could read. A burner screen. A roll of bills. Two stacks of Polaroids, bound in rubber bands. That was it. No key drive. No Mirror Mirror.
“You look disappointed,” Evie said, watching me.
“Almost all the time,” I said, thumbing through the Polaroids.
There were guys in heels and stockings, their faces all made up. One was on a tricycle, holding a balloon in his teeth. One was licking a lollipop, showing too much tongue. One was Stan Volga, pouting in a frilly pinafore, a beauty mark on his cheek.
“Some of the johns like wearing makeup. Dressing up,” she said. “Makes them feel sexy. Wanted.”
“You’ve been watching Fatales for a while,” I said.
“Like I told you, Zodiac has an interest,” she said. “You know I’m taking everything, right?”
“Let me hang on to this one,” I said, showing her Stan Volga.
“Whatever gets you going, Harrigan,” she said, repacking the bag. “This is like the old days, you and me huddling up after a job, going over all the ways it went wrong.”
“It always went off the rails,” I said. “Sometimes we steered it that way.”
“Most times,” she said, smiling, a little sad. “Only this job’s not done yet, is it. You didn’t find what you were looking for.”
“Neither did you,” I said.
She looked at me.
“It’s not worth it. Whatever it is,” she said. “You’re Borderline, Harrigan. They can pick you up anytime. It’s not safe here.”
She zippered the bag closed.
“Go across the street,” she said. “Get on a bus. Head south. They’re a lot more lax on Scores down there. Go far enough and they don’t matter at all.”
