Welcome to Bordertown (10 page)

*   *   *

“Did you hear?” a kid in the next booth was saying. “There’s a new monster in town.”

Trish was getting breakfast in the Hard Luck Café. She had a whole booth to herself, and she’d just spread out a copy of
Nightlife
to read with her eggs.

“Oh, that’s just the noobs being dumb,” another kid sneered. “Every time one sees Wolfboy out buying groceries, they go completely splaa.”

Trish was a little worried about Gurgi. She hadn’t seen him for nearly a week. But if he wanted to find her, he’d find her. Magical creatures were like that. Maybe if she went back to Riverside, he’d be there. She hated cleaning fish, but she needed the money. She
still didn’t know if she should stay or go home, but she was going to need cash either way.

Cam came over with more toast for her, and Trish decided to ask her about the other thing on her mind: “Hey, Cam? Remember that Harvard guy, Anush?”

“I haven’t seen him since the Split. Maybe he went Worldward. A lot of people are leaving.”

“No, I saw him after the Split. He was at the Chimera the same night I was.”

Cam raised one eyebrow. “With or without the elf babe?”

Trish felt herself flush. She didn’t want to, and she certainly didn’t want Cam seeing it. So she pretended to blow her nose. “Without. We talked. He thinks I should go to college. But I don’t know.…”

“Well, while you’re thinking about it, I wonder if you could do me a favor? We’re putting on
Mary Poppins Goes to Mars
at the Changeling Theater next month, and I really need to put in more time there if the show’s going to work. Do you think you could pick up some shifts here for me? The pay is lousy, but the tips—”

Trish leaned across the table and hugged her.

*   *   *

Widdershins is playing The Ferret again tomorrow night. It’s going to be a terrific gig. Althea Windbreaker is the opening act (doing some kind of a capella thing with Nightingale and Wicker Leaf-and-Tree), and Widdershins has some new dance tunes that are sounding great in rehearsal. Spider wants to use some of our new special effects. I don’t think we’re ready yet—I’m not convinced we’ve worked out all the bugs—but Spider says the only way that we’re going to find out is to try.

Maybe I’m just a “nervous old nanny goat” like he says, but I
want the effects to work perfectly. This will be the first time Widdershins uses stuff that I helped make, and I
am
nervous, but also excited, and I want it all to run like clockwork. So I’m up half the night tinkering with the very last bits, trying to leave nothing to chance. Okay, it’s only a few new effects in the whole show, and if they’re not perfect, no one will notice but me … but I’m proud of them. And Spider, of course, doesn’t fail to notice.

“So tell me again how you’re not an artist, you’re just the fix-it guy,” he says smugly. He laughs as he dodges the roll of gaffer tape I throw at his head.

I finally go to bed at four a.m. Calculations are still running through my head, but I think that Spider’s right: It’s all going to work fine. I fall asleep to the sounds of Rosco snoring and the music of the party below me. Then, this morning, I wake in panic. I’m shivering, in a total cold sweat, thinking,
What the hell is going on? What on earth am I doing?
I came to the Border for one reason only: to find my sister and to bring her back home. My mother and family are waiting for me. Real life is back there in Milltown, not here. I can’t just turn into somebody new. Mom is counting on me. Trish is counting on me. I didn’t come here to join a rock band.

I find Spider in the kitchen in his threadbare bathrobe, striped socks, and curly toed slippers, his long silver dreads sprouting twigs and leaves as though birds have been nesting in the coils. He is cooking for a small army as usual—squat members, band members, assorted waifs and strays, and one very drunk elf lord. “Morning, sunshine,” he says when he sees me. “You’re just in time for some grub. Grab a plate.”

I don’t know how Spider comes up with this food, but there is always just enough somehow. The table is crowded, but everyone scootches around it to make a place for me. And then suddenly I am fighting back tears, and it’s stupid, I know, but
I want it so
much.
This place at the table. It feels good. It feels right, this sense of belonging.

But I am the dependable one in the family. Not the one who disappears on the Border.

*   *   *

The sun was slanting in the windows to the west.

“I hear,” Anush’s lady said, “that there is a half-breed who plays the Trueblood music with your kind and ours, and makes a kind of magic with it. Widdershins. The people dance, and even rock out, they tell me. Why do you laugh?”

“Never mind,” Anush said. “Go on.”

“Poor, cast-out, deluded Farrel Din keeps the club where they play. It’s called the Dancing Parrot.”

“The Dancing Ferret. I know it.”

“Good. You will take me there tonight. For, sweet as our nights together have been lately, I feel the need of more company. And pure Trueblood conversation is still a bit … above your head.”

“Whose fault is that?” Anush said bitterly. “You could teach me.”

“Teach you?” She turned an opaque gaze on him. “Are your kind capable of learning?”

“I’m not an animal, dammit.”

Her silvery laugh cut like a knife. “Aren’t you? Take a look in the mirror.”

“That’s it,” he said. “I’m out of here.”

No knowledge was worth this—not even his delectable, firsthand, up-close-and-personal intimate knowledge of the sexual practices of Trueblood ladies fresh from the Realm. She was great at night—but did she ever ask him any questions? She didn’t give a damn who he was or where he was from, what he knew and what he wanted. That schoolgirl, Trish or Tara or whatever her name was, was worth a hundred of her.

He was going home.

“Farewell,” the lady said. “And best of luck to you. Be careful as you leave the Borderlands.”

Something in her tone made him pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Magic is chancy on the Border,” she said, avoiding his eye, stroking the links of the silver chain belt that girdled her slender waist—one of her truth-telling postures. “I know that once you return to the World, you will no longer change shape. But who can say, at the moment when you quit these lands, what shape will be yours?”

“Who can say?”
Anush exploded. “
You
can, right now! Quit messing with me. Undo your spell.”

“Who are you to command me?”

But she didn’t sound very sincere. And indeed: “Oh, all right. This is getting boring. The sun sinks low. As soon as you’re in manly form, we’ll go out clubbing, and then, in the morning, I’ll undo the curse.”

“Undo it now. I want an extra hour to primp.”

“What will you give me if I do?”

“I’ll buy you a beer.” He was in an agony of anticipation. “Come
on.
”

“I shall miss your funny squeaking,” she said. But she raised her hands and did her twisty thing, and spoke some words.

His back itched. He reached around to scratch it.

“It didn’t work.”

“Of course it worked,” she said. “It just isn’t sunset yet.”

But sunset came and went, and nothing changed.

“Fear not,” she said. “It is, perhaps, some strange phase of the moon at work. Tomorrow we will try again.”

“Tomorrow,” Anush growled, “I am going to strangle you with my bare hands.”

“I can change them,” the lady said silkily. “So I suggest you be on your best behavior.”

He shuddered to think what another of her attempts might bring.

“Now come, my pet. Let us go out and hear sweet music.”

Anush buried his head, his unspeakable head, in his huge, hairy hands.

*   *   *

Trish tried hard not to think of Anush. But every time she caught a glimpse of a dark-haired guy just a little taller than she was walking into the Hard Luck, she had to check to see if it was him.

It never was. So probably he hated her. He’d thought she was all smart and collegey, but then she must’ve said something wrong that night. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him about her parents. Maybe he couldn’t deal with them not being high school graduates. His parents were the kind of people who told him stories about magical princes and who thought going to college was, like, his actual job.

Plus, he was really into elves. He had that amazing girlfriend. He was getting to
live
the story, the
right
story, here in Bordertown. Why should he bother with her and her stupid dreams?

“Check, please! Hold the mayo!”

For once it was Trish who was serving Cam at the Hard Luck. It felt funny, but kind of nice. Cam and Seal sat at the counter, sharing a single milkshake with two straws. They were both dressed up to go out.

“The Dancing Ferret,” said Cam. “Come when you get off shift. You might miss part of the opening act, but the real show will be Spider’s band. He’s found this new guy to help Widdershins with tech. One of the noobs, but he’s super-nice. We want him to help us with special effects at Changeling, if we can pry him away
from Spider long enough. They’ve been cooking up some secret wahoo for tonight they swear will blow us all out of the water.”

“I don’t really like loud music,” Trish said.

“Me neither,” said Seal, “but this is different.”

“Real music out of Elfland,” Cam cajoled, “but it has a good beat, and you can dance to it!”

“Okay, I’ll think about it. If I’m not too tired.”

Trish had no intention of going to The Dancing Ferret. She was saving her money and was not in the mood for a Saturday-night club crowd. Besides, she wasn’t dressed for it.

But when she picked up the glass, she found for her tip that Cam had left a red disk on a silken string. It was stamped with the words “Widdershins Guest Pass: Flashing Eyes, Floating Hair … and Others. Enter if you dare.”

She put the string around her neck. She dared.

*   *   *

I’m following Spider, Yidl, and the others into The Dancing Ferret when a bouncer stops me with a hand on my chest. “Where are you going?” she says suspiciously.

Okay, I don’t exactly look like the others, but before I can draw a breath to explain who I am, the Queen of Elfland appears and says, “Relax, Laura, he’s with the band. Let him in.”

I’m probably wearing a big, stupid grin, and I don’t know which one tickles me more: my second smile from the green-haired waitress or hearing those words:
He’s with the band.

It takes us an hour to haul in the equipment, set up the spell and audio amps, cast the illusions, test the sound, and make sure everything is in the right place. Meanwhile the club is filling up. There are people here for the a capella set, and people here for a Widdershins stomp, and people here just because The Ferret’s the place to be on a Saturday night. The gig starts promptly by Ferret
time, which means an hour later than advertised, and by then the place is packed and the bouncers are turning folks away at the door.

I’m so nervous I can barely sit still long enough to listen to the opening set. Althea Windbreaker is probably every bit as good as everyone says she is, and her backup singers, too, but I couldn’t tell you—I don’t hear a single note. I’m as restless as a tomcat.

Spider puts an ice-cold peri into my hands. “Relax, my friend. It’s going to be a good night.”

He’s not nervous at all. He’s enjoying himself, enjoying the scene, enjoying the anticipation of making music. It’s all good to Spider, who must be the single happiest person I’ve ever met. Whoever said you have to suffer to make art clearly doesn’t know squat.

“Thanks for this,” I say, and take a steadying gulp of my favorite elfin brew.

He grins. “It’s not from me, dear boy. It’s from that green-haired nymph behind the bar. Like I said, it’s going to be a good night. Now pick your jaw up off the floor and pay attention to those nice ladies on the stage.”

*   *   *

The red disk was a magic token that let her sweep through the door of the club like a princess. The club was hushed; three women were onstage, singing so beautifully, their voices entwined, that Trish felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. She stood by the door, unable to move, as though the singing were a spell they held her in.

There was a long hush when they finished. And then the room broke into wild applause. There were encores, and flowers flung through the shifting club light, flying through the air like strange birds. At last the singers left the stage, and the crowd headed
toward the bar. She wondered if the disk would get her a free drink, too, or if she’d have to use her tip money to pay for one. The place was so crowded there was barely room to stand. Trish couldn’t see Seal or Cam, or anyone else she knew.

Then, behind her, she heard someone cry, “
Eeeew
—monster!”

In the doorway stood the elfin lady, Anush’s girlfriend, magnificently dressed in a silver gown. But it wasn’t Anush beside her; it was Gurgi, shrinking from the staring eyes of those close enough to see.

The bouncer said, “You can’t bring that thing in here.”

“Oh, please,” said the elf, proud as Lucifer. “He’s with me.” As though that were enough.

The bouncer shrugged. “Can you keep him under control?”

The elf woman smiled a smile Trish did not like one bit. “Can I not? Come, my pet.”

Gurgi flinched but came in with her.

And then Trish knew.

She’d gotten the story all wrong.

*   *   *

It is finally time for the Widdershins set. As the band prepares to go on, I whistle for Rosco and head for the wings, double-checking the spell amp cables as I go. The house lights dim and the crowd begins to quiet, and I’m so excited that I’m almost feeling sick.

Spider now stalks to the center of the stage, a long-legged crane in a flapping velvet coat, with his
krel
(as I’ve learned the instrument is called) and his long bow in his hands. He starts, as always, in the traditional elfin manner: with a single long, low note that rises slowly, filling the room like mist rising. And indeed, there
is
mist rising; that’s one of our cool new special effects. It rises through the forest that now appears, with birds (improved) flitting
overhead and animals (new) rustling in the undergrowth … and it’s all so real you can feel and smell and taste the magic in the air. This time I’m ready for the waves of emotion that the music of the
krel
stirs up in me: that rising, rising, the agonizing rising, bringing everyone’s emotions to a fever pitch … and then the break of the wave … and the joyous relief … and that sparkling feeling of lightness after. Now the drums, the fiddle, the other acoustic instruments, each weaving into and adding to the sound, forming a rich, dense tapestry of music, emotion, and illusion. And now this music, too, is rising, rising.… It will build up to another wave, sounding stranger and stranger, louder and faster, until the guitars come crashing in—but wait! Not yet! The wave will reach its crest, and then comes the effect that I have been waiting all night for.… Here it comes. Here it comes. I suck in my breath as the fiddle and the
krel
chase each other up and up and up and then … stop. And in that sudden shocking, sweet silence, Spider whirls, dreads flying, and holds up his instrument … and it turns into a flock of birds that lift and disappear into the trees.