by Jim Stein
The candy helped, as did a cold washcloth on my neck. My body ached like I had been the one run over by a truck. About the time Piper returned, my stomach took to rumbling for real food.
“Good news and bad,” my sister said. “On the bright side, no one saw you trash the parking lot. But they need a structural engineer to check things out, so tonight’s concert is off.”
“That’s terrible,” Pina said.
“Yes and no. Double M has extended us for a week here in Milwaukee. The last engagement at Indianapolis is on hold.”
“I didn’t do that much damage.” I swung up to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Not you. They’ll reschedule the next concert as soon as engineering gives the all clear. This is about Randy and the empty drummer’s seat. Except for a couple free shows, we’ll have another week to kick back and”—she cast a sideways glance at Anna—“figure things out.”
The afternoon took some juggling. When I moved to take Max out, Anna grew anxious to the point of hysteria. Mom’s hospital occasionally used dogs to help patients recover. Max would be a natural. The Bright needed whatever therapeutic brainwaves he transmitted, which made keeping to a schedule difficult.
The solution proved simple. Anna came along for walks and feeding. As long as my dog was with her, she wasn’t inclined to dash off. I had to give up my roommate for the next few days, but on the bright side I gained an imp.
Ralph stuck to me like glue, which was fun—at first. It wasn’t long before my room felt more like a cage. When I finally stumbled outside in search of air and conversation, my supernatural sidekick trailed along. Once around the arts center was the best I could do, then my prison door beckoned, but Billy caught me halfway back. My gaze snapped down as I scrambled to fabricate some fantastic explanation for Ralph, but the imp was nowhere in sight.
“Lose something?” Billy scanned the ground then shrugged. “We’re getting everything this trip. Storms, earthquakes, what’s next?”
“Freaky stuff.” I needed to change the subject. “What’s with the tour delay?”
“Well.” He scratched his beard, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “It isn’t for public release yet, but…”
“Come on, out with it.”
“They’re looking for someone to replace Randy.”
“A drummer?” I choked on the word. “We’re only a week from the end of the tour. Is Manfred insane?”
The recorded tribute worked fine. More importantly, the band understood Randy’s technique, how transitions were paced, and when the recordings would give way to epic solos. Bringing in a new drummer would be more than disruptive. It could fracture the whole that was the A-Chords’ sound.
“Ain’t Manny.” He shook his head, and I saw my confusion mirrored on his face. “He fought it, but Double-M Records is adamant.”
“They can’t just pick a new member for the band!”
“Apparently our contract says they can.”
My jaw ached as my back teeth ground on the ridiculous notion. The sudden red haze could have been due to the setting sun, but my Tokpela shields were whipping up a storm. Randy’s memory wasn’t even cooling, let alone cold. Pushing something like this on the band was an affront to the man—and his friends. I found myself storming into the building, calling for the road manager.
“Manfred!” I poked my head into the main office, then worked down the line of auxiliary administration areas.
“I understand, but…” Manfred gripped the phone with white knuckles. “If you would just listen.” He clenched his teeth, clearly unhappy with the party on the other end, and hopped up from the edge of the desk to pace as he listened. “There’s no need! We’ve done the accounting.”
The manager was too absorbed in the discussion to notice me. At first, I assumed he was talking about finding a new drummer. I stood there, shamelessly listening in and silently applauding his pushback.
“The demographics are complete. We might pick up a few more in Indy.” Buzzing speech from the far end. “Fine, but I want credit.”
This sounded like something else entirely.
“Say, Manfred,” I interjected, getting a satisfying start followed by an angry glare.
“Listen, we’ll do it, but I disagree with these measures.” Manfred cut in on the person he spoke with. “I need to handle something here. I’ll attach notes to my next report.” He hung up and turned on me. “What do you want?”
“The band to continue using Randy’s tracks. A new drummer will hurt the sound, not to mention the people.” My face flushed and cold sweat clung to my palms. It just wasn’t right.
“I totally agree.”
“They just lost a friend. If you force a replacement down the A-Chords’ collective throat…well, it just won’t work.”
“Unfortunately, I have no say in the matter.” He dropped into a chair, kicked his legs out, and shrugged. “We all have a boss. Maybe they won’t find anyone.”
His body language and tone had me convinced he was sincere. But my guard snapped up immediately at that last statement. Something about his inflection left no doubt he knew Double M would indeed find a replacement drummer, that he or she was likely already en route.
“Sure.”
My sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. He narrowed his eyes and drew a sharp breath to speak, but cocked his head as though listening. His gaze swung from one corner of the room to the other. I looked too, worried I’d spot Ralph sitting on a filing cabinet or squatting beneath the desk. Nothing. I didn’t know if the imp used illusion or simply disappeared, but he was good at vanishing when I wasn’t alone. Though he did let Piper, Pina, and now Anna see him.
“Billy shouldn’t even have told you.” The nasty gleam in his eye promised trouble for my friend.
“He had to.” I thought fast. “I’m the sound guy. We’ll need to baseline this new person’s playing to get the mix right. Plus I have to know when and where these free concerts are so we can line up the right material and equipment.”
As an excuse, it sounded pretty thin to my own ears, but Manfred relaxed and grudgingly supplied a few more tidbits of information. The free shows would be community events in the park. I’d need to work with Billy to build two half-hour sets that were scaled-down versions of the full show. We had to lay out the material and ensure everyone was on the same musical page. It was a good thing I went to Manfred, even if the answers he had were not what I wanted to hear.
***
The spoiled brat stalked out, taking his invisible spy with him. Manny never did spot the thing, but he’d definitely felt a presence skulking around the office, poking into his desk drawers.
He’d marked Ed as a problem since day one. Nobody traveled across country just to see friends. There was more there, especially with Quinn. The kid followed the bassist around like a puppy scraping for attention. Every time Manny got that girl alone put a burr under the kid’s saddle and made the day a little brighter.
Of course they traveled to follow the tour, these people his superiors were so keen on documenting, tracking, and who knew what else. Keeping the operatives under control was draining. But the company kept sending more, many more than were needed to do the accounting and gather a bit of intel on the damned hippies.
“Boss, you in there?” Rhonda called from the hallway.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Heard you talking to Ed.” The woman leaned in the doorway, her customary smirk firmly in place as she looked him up and down. “He getting under your skin?”
“No.” Manny ran a hand through his hair and scowled. “Nobody’s happy about the delay and the inbound drummer.”
“Tough shit. We’re in charge now.”
Manny nodded, wondering who exactly Rhonda meant. To outward eyes, she was his brash and confident assistant. But lately, she bucked his authority and hinted of connections within Double M. Manny didn’t know exactly what lay beneath his assistant’s glamour. Maybe he didn’t want to.
“Yeah, we are.” It was ti
me he got better answers. “The boy has something with him, a presence. See what you can find out.”
“Now we’re talking.” Sharp mischief glinted in her eyes.
“Try to be discreet,” he added, then had another thought. “Bring me Dan—and Jim if you can find the buffoon. I won’t have them terrorizing the patrons.”
Rhonda’s grin fell into a frown, and a growl rumbled at the back of her throat. “Careful, boss. The company gives them autonomy. They don’t strictly…answer to you.”
“Bring them in.”
Manny ground his teeth and glared, refusing to be intimidated. Their staring contest only lasted a moment. Rhonda nodded and turned away, looking more amused than cowed.
“Whatever you say…boss.”
The last word hung in the air after she left, half-question and half-challenge. Something was brewing, but specifics were just beyond his grasp. Rhonda had her secrets, the company people were not all on the same page, and then there was the killing. The authorities blithely marked that up to an animal attack and the drummer’s pre-existing condition.
But the thing hanging on the fence was no mountain lion. Water panthers hunted specific prey. Perhaps it had been out of its mind in pain or shock. The burns along half its body were weeks, if not months old, but may have driven the creature insane. The panther called up the living mud within the man, killing him as surely as if it had disemboweled the hapless drummer.
How and when Randy managed to run afoul of the water spirit remained a mystery. Manny should have recognized the signs of his infection weeks ago, but had chalked the coughing up to simple pneumonia. There were ways to clear out such corruption, but how had the idiot been tainted in the first place? Too many questions.
Manny sagged into his chair and pulled open the bottom desk drawer. He grabbed his lunch bag and groaned. Same as always: catering truck sandwich, bag of greasy chips, and a box of raisins. He rummaged deeper into the crinkling brown paper and frowned. No cookie?
21. Just Out of Reach
B ILLY GRABBED me as soon as I left the offices. He’d been worried about stirring up trouble, but not worried enough to come in or try to stop me.
“Jinx has Hassan on the radio,” Billy said as we made a beeline for Pioneer.
The motorhome gleamed in the sun at the end of the complex, far from this morning’s destruction.
“I thought David was the shortwave master.”
“He’s out working some emergency.” Billy grimaced and took the steps two at a time.
Jinx waved us over to the alcove across from the kitchen. Quinn and I exchanged nods. She was scrunched into the dinette on the other side of Jinx, so Billy and I took the bench opposite.
“We’ll get the new schedules out over the airwaves.” Hassan sounded like he was at the bottom of well—whispering, and eating potato chips. “Just let me know if dates or times change again.”
“Copy that. You’re coming in weak and barely readable.” Jinx fiddled with the gain and nudged the frequency for a clearer signal, but the portable gear didn’t have all the bells and whistles of the base station back in New Philadelphia.
“Bad time of day,” Hassan crackled. “If David gets the Eastons’ generator running, I’ll have him dial in better settings.”
The Eastons’? I leaned in and keyed the mic. “Why’s he at Pete’s place?”
“Whole crew is out there.” We all strained to make out Hassam’s words. “They just keep coming…big news, so…until we have to. David’s just helping…of mechanical break downs that…”
“Main Line, do you read?”
The static modulated as Jinx tried to reestablish the connection. After a couple of minutes, he gave up and clicked the radio to standby.
“Does anybody know what this big farm story is?” I asked.
“Gotta be crop issues,” Billy offered.
The locusts devoured a chunk of the young soybean plants, but the damage wasn’t extensive enough to warrant mid-season reports. Heck, Pete had already replanted by the time the band headed west.
In addition to the mysterious discussion with Hassan, Jinx had news from the engineering inspection. The music and arts center had not sustained damage during the earthquake, and the A-Chords were free to perform the following night.
We spent ten minutes picking songs for two short sets to play at the promotional concerts. I promised to pull drum tracks for practice before Thursday’s first concert in the park.
Quinn walked back to the rooms with me. I wanted to tell her about Ralph, but it was too loud on the short walk. A bulldozer and steamroller attacked the broken pavement, hauling out jutting chunks and flattening others. They already had the street open with caution signs at either end of the bumpy surface.
Quite a bit of green got scraped under by the heavy machinery. Shoots and a few purple flowers lay among the debris. I didn’t recall destroying any of the grassy median strips Max coveted, but my memory remained fuzzy. The revving engines and pungent exhaust dwindled as we approached my sister’s room.
“You expecting company?” Quinn asked.
I followed her gaze down past the row of doors. People milled about at the end of the sidewalk, lots of people. They spilled into the parking area and perched on the railing. The buzz of hushed conversations drifted to us. A small knot sat in the narrow strip of grass, singing a cappella accompanied by bobbing heads and clapping hands.
“Why are there so many Brights outside my door?”
“I think I’ll just duck in to see the girls.” Quinn stopped at Piper’s room and knocked.
“Coward. Just so you know, Ralph showed up yesterday.”
“Hmmm, curious.”
I steeled myself and headed toward the crowd. Aarav and Claude turned to greet me with nervous smiles. Several folks held picnic baskets, and the smell of fresh bread made my mouth water.
“Got a minute?” Aarav asked.
“Um…I’m not sure a minute’s gonna do it.” There had to be at least twenty Brights, maybe thirty. “What’s going on?”
“That…information you shared has a lot of us curious.”
“It’s spreading like wildfire!” Claude added, then lowered his voice. “So has what happened to Anna.”
“We’re worried and want—” Aarav looked around at the crowd that now hung on every word. Even the singers stopped. “We want you to teach us.”
“The Grims are a mystery, and I’ve told you what I know about Koko.” I opened my door and flipped on the light. “You’re welcome to the information I have on him, but you’ll find the same stuff in any library.”
“Not that, man,” Claude whispered. “The magic. Teach us to use magic.”
I laughed, startling them both.
“He’s serious.” Brights didn’t scowl very often, but Aarav gave it a shot as he swept an arm out to encompass the crowd. “We need help. Anna is just the tip of the iceberg. Did you know Patty started hanging with them?” Aarav continued when I nodded. “We’ve been comparing notes. Other friends have…I don’t know the term, but they’ve changed.” Solemn nods backed up his statement. “Acting different, dressing different. They don’t speak to us anymore. Most still follow the show with them.” He meant the Grims. “A couple have just gone missing. It’s unnerving and…Ed, we’re scared.”
I scrubbed my face, wishing I’d slept more last night. The eager faces tugged at something deep inside. If more of them were targets, the Grims had larger scale plans in play. Blood ties were a rarity in the world. Impossibly, these hopeful faces belonged to my half-brothers and half-sisters. They deserved help.
“We don’t even know if any of you have abilities.” Yet their stories gave clues. At least some of them had access to power.
“What’s that?” Claude yelled right into my ear.
I looked into my cramped room. A small figure clutching a giant chocolate chip cookie blinked back at us from atop the stacked nightstands masquerading as my dresser. Ralph smiled wide, exposing fangs
in an easily misunderstood greeting. Gasps escaped from all around as the Brights huddled in for a closer look. The imp bit off another chunk, apparently at ease revealing himself to these people.
“Ralph’s harmless.” I shook my head at the little piece of solid evidence we weren’t all insane. “We’re going to need a bigger room.”
***
“You feel the music here, right?” I tapped just below Claude’s sternum.
“Yeah and there’s a little sort of glimmer.” Claude sat cross legged, clutching my Spirit token.
“Try to wrap the song around that glimmer. Ask the feather to find Aarav.”
Claude turned back to his exercise, and I moved on to a long-faced woman in her early twenties. She showed a bit more promise and strained to make her feather float without the benefit of the token. She didn’t call out a question, so I simply nodded encouragement.
“Do you really think this will work?” Quinn asked as I walked over to the bleachers. “I wasted days before making a breakthrough.”
“Worth a shot. Things are getting too real too fast, and they each have an affinity for at least one element.”
Brights were scattered in pairs across the wood floor of the small recreation area. Others sat in the bleachers waiting their turn or simply grooving to the music. Quinn got us into a multi-purpose room that once would have accommodated everything from small concerts to basketball games—perfect for our needs. “Mental Requiem” pumped in from the A-Chord’s practice room next door. The bluesy instrumental felt perfect for working with Spirit.
The three tokens proved invaluable. I’d long suspected someone with potential power sensed it through the old coins. Early on, Quinn said my Spirit token felt warm, and we later discovered she could work with that element. Normal people like Pete found the tokens cold.
After I’d explained the basic principles of Spirit, Fire, and Earth, we passed the tokens around as a litmus test. Every Bright found at least one coin warm, and several could relate to two elements. Aarav and the long-faced woman, Clara, claimed all three grew hot in their palm.
“You need Piper,” Quinn said. “She has this stuff wired.”
