Blood & Flowers (18 page)

T
onio talked to Floss, and I worked on Lucia's dance hall stage. And since I was working on said stage in Floss's workroom, I listened too. At first Floss was reluctant. She said, “I like the idea of Elbe's, but I hate the idea of changing things at the last minute. They'll think it's a trick and they'll dislike everything we do even more.”

Tonio slapped her on the shoulder. “That's the way,” he said in a perky cheerleader voice. “Let's keep that positive attitude going.”

To make Lucia happy I'd decided to make her stage opening more three-dimensional than one. I was twisting wires together to give the curtains a
little swing when Tonio pep-talked Floss, and I almost stabbed myself, I was trying so hard not to laugh. Even though I kept my head down and focused on my curtains, I could feel Floss narrow her eyes at me. But all she said was “Get Fred to ask. They'd never listen to me anyway.”

Whatever happened between Tonio and Fred, between Floss and Fred, between Fred and his parents, I never found out. But it was something positive because two hours later Elbe's front porch had become our stage and Elbe had “absolutely, positively” guaranteed that the Emporium wouldn't budge for the duration of the show, for one hour before and for forty-seven minutes after.

“Forty-seven minutes?” I asked Fred.

“Elbe said he wants to help all he can, but he does have a schedule to keep.”

“Sure. Of course. And it's a huge favor to go out of his way like this. But forty-seven minutes?”

“He's very precise, is Elbe.”

Nicholas looked up from the faerielight he was working with. It was glowing a soft, steady yellow red
spotlighty kind of color. “So anything we can't get pulled down gets left behind?”

Fred nodded.

“Right,” Nicholas said to us. And to the faerielight he said, “You're the first thing I take with me, then. Because you'd think,” he added, talking to us one more time, “once you'd gotten one to work, you'd be on top of the situation, but no. When you get one to cooperate, I think the rest work that much harder to fight against you.”

“Depends on the faerielight, I'm beginning to think,” Fred said. “It seems that some are more malleable than others.”

“Whatever you say. I just know this one and I seem to be getting along quite nicely. For tonight, it's the star.”

I gathered up my books of song lyrics and my posters. As I left to get the proscenium opening, I said, “I'm putting everything behind the bar downstairs. An hour isn't anywhere near long enough for a setup, especially since most things will go wrong. It's a dress rehearsal after all. I'm prestaging.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Fred said. “For all I know about any of this, that is.” He began breaking down his faerielight platform. “I'll follow you. And then I need to make sure Max found the candles.”

Dau Hermanos was spinning with activity, and none of it had to do with tacos or head cheese. The Outlaws seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. Everywhere because I felt like there was always someone on my heels. Nowhere because whenever I needed one particular person they seemed to have just gone the opposite direction.

I ran into Lucia on the stairs, her arms draped in floppy socks, black, gray, and one red, decked out in cancan skirts. She had the stick-puppet chorus line, too, but I was looking for Floss.

I saw Nicholas at the end of the hall headed for the stairs, faerielight cradled in his arms like a baby, but I needed Max.

Tonio moved past me so fast he generated a breeze, but I wanted El Jeffery.

So far, this looked like a typical Outlaw production. The random chaos made me breathe easy, but
I caught a glimpse of Bron and Rohan, eyes wide, as they tried to get out of the multiway traffic that had taken over their place of business.

“It's okay,” I assured them as Max and I dropped off several boxes of pillars, tapers, and tea lights. “We're just prepping so that when Elbe comes we can move fast.”

“But Persia,” Bron protested, “it's pandemonium.”

“Yeah. We're getting ready for a show.” And I left, dodging El Jeffery and his drum, to find matches because no matter how we'd tried, mortals couldn't seem to light candles any other way.

 

There'd been minuscule amounts of discussion about whether anyone other than Floss's family and whomever they brought with them (and I assumed, of course, that that would be Major) should be allowed to see this thing I insisted on referring to as a dress rehearsal. Minuscule because Floss had said, in a flat no-argument voice, “No,” and Fred, when asked, said, “Floss is right. Don't bring in anyone else.”

“But if we have outsiders, we'll have more help in
audience participation,” I'd said. “I'm pretty sure you were right when you said your family won't play.”

“Like I said before, we'll do the participation ourselves if we have to,” Floss had responded.

Fred's elbows had been on the table when he pointed one long index finger in agreement. “We can't ask anyone else because Mother won't let them in. Father will go along with her just because he usually does.” Fred stopped and took in an audible breath. “She's a strong personality, is mother.”

Floss had snorted. “To say the least.”

“Exactly.” Fred had raised both shoulders, then dropped them. “Feron is anyone's guess, but if he's there I'm sure it's safe to say that he won't be on our side. My suggestion is to pretend that Bron and Rohan are part of all this and let them be the audience plants.”

“So this is all more dangerous than I'm pretending it is?” I'd asked.

“Are you pretending?” Fred had sounded interested.

I'd looked around the dinner table, looked at all
my friends, and said, “Of course I'm pretending. I'd never get anywhere otherwise.”

Floss had nodded. “You're absolutely right. Just don't forget which part is true and which is the game.”

“If games are supposed to be fun I'm not sure this qualifies,” Tonio had said.

“It does if you pretend hard enough,” Lucia had replied. “And remember, that's what we're good at.”

“So, no other audience,” I'd said, just to clarify.

“Right,” various voices had assured me.

 

So, while we'd generally discussed this, and made a decision, in the end it didn't matter one bit. When Elbe and his rainbow-bedecked Emporium appeared in the field next to Dau Hermanos there were at least thirty assorted beings gathered on the porch. I saw two who looked like they were related to Reginald, a tall, tall thin woman dressed in sheer blue, a tiny brown person in a pink sprigged dress and Wellington boots, and an identical trio with purple hair, nose rings, and pointed ears. And that was just my first look.

On my second look I saw, off to my left, what must have been some of Lucia's eye-corner creatures. I couldn't quite get a read on them, but an aura of danger dangled in that direction. Every time I tried to face them head-on, they disappeared.

While I was trying to catch a glimpse of the eye-corner creatures Fred said, “Elbe brought an audience.”

“Yeah,” I said. I was still trying to turn the flickers in my eyes into something substantial. “And maybe more than we can see right now.” I looked past my shoulder again and caught an outline, nothing more. “Are those things dangerous?” I asked.

Fred said, “What things?”

Floss, coming up behind me with her arms full of Edgar, stopped and stared hard at Elbe's porch. “I thought we said no company,” she growled.

“I certainly didn't invite them,” Fred said.

“And Elbe said he wasn't political,” I said, “so it couldn't have been him.” I'd given up on finding what I couldn't see. There wasn't enough time to chase illusions. Instead I tried to keep my lyric lists and posters
from tumbling into a pile of talus on Elbe's front lawn.

El Jeffery stopped trundling his unicycle. He had a marching band snare hung around his neck. “Elbe not political?” He laughed. “Of course he's political. He plays all sides against one another every day. He just pretends that he doesn't.”

I widened my eyes at the griffin. “You were there, earlier today. You heard him say he's apolitical. You even asked how he'd get himself into trouble if he helped us.”

El Jeffery shrugged. “Two different issues, I think.”

“No, they're not,” I muttered.

“None of that matters now,” Tonio said. “They're here. We're here. Let's move them so we can get to work.”

A voice behind us said, “This should be fun, shouldn't it? It's so nice to have everyone together again, too. Like Homecoming. Plus.”

The voice was weaker than it had been the last time I'd heard it, but the poking, prodding nastiness made it easy to recognize. Major.

Tonio didn't stop walking, didn't stop balancing
his boxes of candles. Floss didn't turn, just kept going toward Elbe's, holding Edgar. Lucia, Nicholas, Fred, and El Jeffery moved forward, although I noticed Nicholas's armload of faerielight shiver and shift. But I stayed where I was, rooted in the moment. So I was the one who heard Max say, “I do so hope it was the rough crossing that put you in the shape you're in. You look like hell.” He examined Major critically, then added, “But damn it, you look so much better than I'd hoped.”

That, coming from Max, who was usually so gentle, shocked me. I turned a full 180 degrees. Max stood like he would have if he'd been in a boxing ring. He looked ready to start sparring, looked like he would have already smashed a fist into Major if he hadn't been carrying my stage. The little red and gold curtains quivered on their wires. Somehow, with that puppet in his hand, he looked more dangerous than I'd ever seen him.

Major looked close to dreadful. He was pale, his hair was long and uneven, and there was stubble on his cheeks. His clothes looked like the same ones he'd
been wearing when we'd left the chocolate factory that last late night, and they looked like they'd seen a lot of wear since then. There were deep rings under his eyes, the kind that came with weariness and pain, and one arm was in a sling. When he moved he moved stiffly, using the kind of moves people make when everything hurts. His eyes traveled up and down Max and he said, “You look absolutely adorable with your little puppet stage.”

The fingers on Max's free hand clenched. I stepped in front of him and said, “Actually, it's my little puppet stage. I just didn't have a carrying hand. Max, could you make sure that Lucia knows it's here? She was worried about it.”

He breathed deep enough that I could see his chest rise, nodded, and left.

Major said, “Ah. Defending him. How sweet.”

“Actually, I thought I was defending you. You look like you could be blown away by a light breeze, and Max is ever so much more than that.” I shrugged. “But, if I think about it more, maybe you're right. Max would probably just kill you, and that might look
a tiny bit bad for him. Even here.”

Reginald came up and stood close to Major. His own protection. In his irritating rumble he said, “I can take care of her for you.”

Before all of the words were out of Reginald's mouth, an older version of Fred materialized. “Materialized” because at the beginning of the sentence he wasn't there and at the end of it he was. Simple as that. It was like watching a magician at work. The newcomer was as blond as Floss, and taller and heavier than Fred in a way that suggested brute strength. He had an air of entitlement to him too, as if he were the kind of person who was used to getting just what he wanted without having to work for it.

“Now, Reginald,” he chided. “Remember, we're only here as observers. You, me, and my good friend Major.” He raised his voice on the last three words, which had to make them carry to Elbe's porch, had to make them float right over to Fred and Floss.

I saw Floss stiffen, but she didn't turn around. I saw Fred's hands hesitate as he helped Nicholas with the faerielight platform, but he recovered and
straightened a piling. And I knew, without a doubt, that I was meeting Feron for the first time.

I looked at Reginald; I looked at Major. Then I looked at Feron. Similarities between them were plain, but it was obvious who was in charge here, and it wasn't Major. Feron smiled at me, a dragon smile. “I'll leave you to get reacquainted,” he said, and he walked away from us, headed to a grove of trees a small distance away from Elbe's.

I looked one more time at Major and, for a flash of a second, I wondered what we'd all been so scared of for so long. With Feron there, it was as if I'd seen Major for the first time as exactly what he was—someone with a modicum of power who had dreams of grandeur. But it was only for that second. As soon as Feron was seven long, graceful strides away, Major was in charge again. Maybe Major was all an illusion, but if he was, he was a particularly well-imagined one. He still made me feel ripples on my skin, as if someone was scratching a blackboard.

“I can take care of her,” Reginald growled again, and this time he sounded hopeful.

But Major shook his head and never looked at the troll. “I'm fine. Go with Feron.”

Reginald shrugged, a movement like a large stone being tumbled by a very fast-moving stream, turned on his heel, and left.

“Why are you here?” I asked suddenly, and I really wanted to know. “You've been after us all this time. I know Tonio's great, but really, give it up.”

Major chuckled, but there wasn't any humor there. He said absolutely nothing, just watched me for what felt like hours, then shrugged. “I can tell you because there's not a thing you can do to stop it. Not now. Tonio's the least of it.”

“Yeah. Right,” I said.

“No. You obviously don't understand. It's all about me. It always has been. Tonio was the add-on. The frosting on the cake, so to speak, but with what's available to me now, he's nothing. I followed you here, yes, but by the time I did that, you were all practically incidental. I must admit, after multiple trips with Feron, I thought it'd be easier to get through on my own. That was my biggest miscalculation because, as
you can see, I met up with some damage. But I made it. And Feron and I are working together again, just like we did in our world, making sure there are drinks and dust enough for anyone who wants them.”