Helen and Troy's Epic Road Quest (6 page)

She didn't get it, but she decided that she didn't care anymore. As for Troy, he only sat there, smiling too. As if he were in on some joke that everyone got but her. Even Campbell sported the barest hint of a grin.

Waechter and Campbell escorted them back to the lobby. They were met there by a pair of agents who presented them with the confiscated sword and wand the Lost God had given them. Helen was given the wand, Troy the sword. The sword was sheathed in a scabbard. Not too fancy, but more heroic than the old shoebox the wand came in.

“We get these back now?” she asked.

“We had to make sure they weren't too dangerous,” said Waechter. “They checked out. They're dangerous. Just not too dangerous.”

Troy tested the weight of the sword. “Do we need licenses for these?”

“Comes with your NQB agent status.”

“We aren't agents,” mumbled Helen. “Agents have training.”

“Now, there's one more thing,” said Waechter. “After you leave here, you're going to want to get on the freeway, take Exit 42. Look for a sign. The rest is up to you.”

“Is that it, then?” asked Helen. “We're not going to see you again?”

“Oh, we'll be in touch. Somewhere down the road.”

Helen and Troy drove away.

“She seemed annoyed,” said Agent Campbell.

“She had every right to be,” replied Waechter.

“I think she suspects we aren't exactly on their side. The young man too, even if he was less obvious about it.”

“We don't take sides, Campbell. You know that. We just help them on their journey. Reaching the right destination, that's up to them. Cleaning up the mess if they take a wrong turn, that's our job.”

“Does that last part ever bother you, sir?” she asked.

“Every day. But greater good and all that, right?”

She frowned.

“Yes, sir. All that.”

Their briefing at the NQB hadn't filled Helen with confidence.

“They're hiding something.”

“Probably,” agreed Troy.

“And doesn't that bother you?”

“Hel, they're the government. They hide stuff all the time. But it's not like they forced this quest on us. And they did give us the sword and wand.”

“Yeah, and that's another thing. Why did I get stuck with the wand?”

He shrugged.

“It's because I'm the girl,” she said.

“Do you want the sword?”

“Waechter gave it to you.”

“Who cares?” he replied. “You said it yourself. You don't trust the guy. Just because he handed me the sword doesn't mean we have to stick with that arrangement.”

“I didn't know you had such a rebellious streak.”

“I have my moments. I used to sneak grapes to feed my pet turtle, even though Mom told me not to.”

“Ne'er-do-well.”

“I prefer the term
scofflaw
, thank you very much.” He ran his fingers along the flat of the blade of the sword beside him. “But I'm thinking they gave me the sword because, in our pairing, I'm the little guy, and the NQB thought I'd need something to keep up with you.”

She grinned. “You always know the right thing to say, don't you?”

“Not always. But usually.”

She waved the wand around. “Alakazam! Presto! For the honor of Grayskull! It's clobberin' time!”

Nothing happened.

“Careful where you point that thing,” said Troy. “You don't know what it does.”

“Would've been nice if it came with instructions.” She shoved it back in its box, leaned back, and decided to enjoy the ride. The situation wasn't ideal. She was probably going to die on this quest. But maybe not. If she did have only a few days to live, it would be foolish to waste them being grouchy. She gave herself permission to enjoy the ride.

There was an incredible sense of freedom and adventure that came with riding in the Chimera, the top down, the wind blowing in her hair, the freeway open before her like a doorway to the world beyond.

That faded a bit when they were caught in a traffic jam five minutes later. The road that had seemed so welcoming before now only felt like a sizzling, sucking slab of asphalt doing its best to keep them from leaving town. That was only her imagination, though she was on a quest, so maybe a wizard had used a curse to close the two left lanes and bottleneck the flow of traffic. Or maybe it was just the regularly scheduled construction that had been going on for weeks now. But she couldn't dismiss the evil wizard idea. Wizards were tricky like that.

She stifled her annoyance. Troy didn't seem to have any annoyance to stifle. He signaled a car ahead of them that it was safe to merge.

“You don't have to keep doing that,” said Helen.

“Doing what?” he asked.

“Letting everyone in.”

“It's called being a courteous driver, Hel.”

“One or two cars is being courteous,” she replied. “That's your seventh.”

“You're counting?”

“I'm estimating.”

“Seven's pretty specific for an estimate.”

“So I was counting,” she said, “and maybe you don't care, but the people behind us are probably getting a touch irritated.”

Troy nodded. “Good point.”

He pulled ahead. The car moved a few feet before having to stop again.

“There. Happy now?” he asked.

She laid her head back on her seat and stared at the blue sky above. “Ecstatic.”

“Is something wrong, Helen?” he asked.

“Just seems like a lousy way to start a quest,” she said. “Being swallowed alive by traffic.”

Troy chuckled. “And they were never heard from again.”

She closed her eyes. “Wake me when the dragons show up.”

Once Troy got serious about it, he guided the Chimera through clogged traffic like a ship in choppy waters. They didn't get above thirty miles an hour, but given the circumstances, it seemed as if they were soaring. The strangest part was that Troy managed to do this while remaining a courteous driver. He didn't cut anyone off. He didn't ride anyone's tailgate. It was proof to Helen that he'd been born under an anti-curse, chosen by the gods above to do great things, and while she was just along for the ride, she wasn't complaining.

He worked his way across two lanes of traffic to their exit ramp. By all logic the Chimera should've come out with a few bumps and scrapes. But the ride had been effortlessly smooth, almost as if the other cars weren't even there. If morning traffic was the first beast encountered on their legendary journey, Troy slipped from its jaws with such skill and grace, it was probably worth a sonnet or two.

They pulled off the exit ramp and into a downtown neighborhood that she couldn't tell much about except that it was gray and dingy.

“Waechter said there would be a sign,” he said.

She pointed to a street sign reading
AUGURY AVENUE
. “Does that count?”

“It's a little literal, isn't it?”

Helen said, “Depends. How many people do you think know the definition of the word
augury
?”

“Well, there's the two of us, obviously.”

“Obviously. So either we're just two people who took Honors English together or it's our sign.”

He drove down Augury Avenue. In the space of a few blocks, a subtle shift transformed the neighborhood around them. They couldn't say exactly when the transition had happened. It wasn't as if they had felt the crackle of electricity down their spines or noticed all the people disappearing one by one. However it had happened, it had happened unnoticed, and they found themselves driving through an empty neighborhood.

Their curse marks stopped itching.

Cars were parked on the streets, but none moved down the road. The brisk pedestrian traffic had vanished. While the sounds of a bustling city could be heard, they didn't have any visible source. The brick buildings all looked several decades old but in pristine condition. There was a smattering of graffiti, and a few scraps of litter blew through the streets, but it all seemed meticulously placed.

Troy rolled the Chimera to a slow stop. “Weird.”

Helen stepped out of the car. When her hoof hit the street, a tingle ran up her leg, the sense that they weren't in the world they knew anymore.

“I'd call this a sign,” she said.

“Yeah, but of what?” asked Troy.

A breeze kicked up, blowing a piece of wrinkled paper past Helen's face. It snagged on her right horn. She pulled it off and read it. It was a crude photocopied advertisement for a lunch truck: “The Meat Wagon. We got what you need.”

She handed the paper to Troy. “What do you think it means?”

“Probably means we should find this thing.”

Helen sighed. “Great. So the first leg of our quest is all about finding a lunch truck. Where do we start?”

“How about over there?” Troy pointed to a lunch wagon parked just down the block.

Helen hopped back in the car. “That was easier than I expected.”

As they approached the Meat Wagon, they spotted the first people they'd seen since entering this mystical street. The single customer was a woman, perhaps forty, dressed in a bathrobe and disheveled. The guy behind the counter was a hairy, thick fellow in a fez.

The truck itself sparkled like a polished diamond. If that diamond were made of aluminum and smelled of grease.

Helen and Troy parked beside it and approached. They kept their distance, but still caught the tail end of the current customer's conversation.

“What you're going to need to do,” said the truck operator, “is get on the first flight to Galveston you can book. Then you're going to check into the hotel at this address…” He scribbled something on a napkin. “Tell them Castor sent you and they'll give you a discount rate. Then, on the night of the next full moon, take a swim in the pool. Enjoy yourself. Eventually, you'll notice some flowers on the bottom. Take one—and only one—and get out of the pool and walk back to your room without looking back.”

She reached for the napkin, but he pulled it away.

“This is very important now. Because you'll be tempted to take more than one flower. And you'll definitely be tempted to look back. If you look back, then it's done. The flower will disappear. Your journey will be over. There won't be any second chances here. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?”

She nodded vigorously.

He looked unconvinced but handed the napkin to her. “I'm serious about this, Jillian. Game over.”

She mumbled something before turning and jogging down the street.

“Good luck with…all that,” shouted the cook insincerely.

Troy and Helen stepped up to the counter.

“She'll look back,” said the cook.

They glanced to see the woman looking over her shoulder at them.

“Everybody looks back. Welcome to the Meat Wagon,” said the cook. “What can I get you? Might I recommend the brisket? Got a pretty good ham sandwich too.”

“Agent Waechter sent us,” said Troy.

“Never heard of him.”

Helen and Troy flashed their badges.

“Put those things away,” said the cook. “Never could stand those NQB suits. Did they give you the Greater Good speech yet? If they haven't, they will. Biggest load of bull you're going to hear. Mortals who think they're smarter than the gods above. Not that the gods are any better. Bunch of clueless morons, every single one of them.”

Helen and Troy were unsure of what to say, so said nothing.

“Ah, hell. Sorry for the rant. I've been on this job too long. You can only gaze into the future and all its possibilities for so long before it gets to you. Now why don't you give me a minute to fix up an order of brisket. And some French fries for the lady. Sorry, but it's about the only thing I got suitable for vegetarians.”

“How'd you know I'm a vegetarian?” she asked.

“Knowing things is my thing,” he said. “Pollux Castor is the name. Seeing is my burden. I see what even the gods cannot see, know what even the Fates are uncertain of. I've also mastered the art of barbeque, but nobody ever seems as excited about that.”

“Where are we?” asked Troy.

Pollux disappeared into the shadowy regions of his vehicle, but they could hear his voice. “We are currently in a sacred glen, a hidden place where neither mortal nor immortal treads lightly. Many years ago, civilization succeeded in doing what the gods never could and paved over it. But you can't destroy something like that. So it returned as this hallowed city block, this perfect realm between.”

“Between what?”

“You name it.” Pollux shuffled into the light and dropped a paper plate of meat. “But it's lousy for business, so I'm going to have to charge you for the meal. That'll be three bucks. Also, you might want to remember that the future of your entire quest depends on what I say in about four minutes when you consider the tip.”

Troy was worried Pollux might not take their NQB credit card, but money was money. The oracle didn't discriminate. He informed them it would be a few minutes on the fries, and that while they waited they should get their sword and wand out so that he could explain how to use them. They had no place to sit and leaned against the Chimera while Troy ate his late breakfast.

“How is it?” Helen asked.

“Good. Kind of greasy.”

A three-legged dog trotted up and sat before them. The fluffy brown-and-gray mongrel lowered its floppy ears and whined.

Troy put down his plate, and the dog wolfed down the meat.

The back door to the Meat Wagon opened, and Pollux exited. He was a short, hirsute man. Not fat but certainly stout. He thrust a cardboard tray of fries at Helen. “No charge, miss. They aren't very good.”

“Uh, thanks?” Helen looked at the soggy planks of undercooked potatoes but didn't take a bite.

Pollux wiped his hands on his stained apron and studied the dog eating brisket.

“I had a big breakfast,” said Troy.

“You paid for it. You can throw it in the garbage for all I care.” Pollux held out his hand. “OK, let me see the sword.”

Troy gave him the weapon.

“What you got here is a standard enchanted weapon. Supernatural sharpness, of course. That's a given.” He took a mighty swing at a lamppost and felled it with one stroke.

“Also, if you're holding it and both your feet are on the earth, nothing can hurt you. But pay close attention to that sentence because it'll matter later on.”

He gave the sword back to Troy.

“Finally, if you tap the point of the blade against the ground three times, you can summon an animating elemental spirit that will obey a single command. But—”

Troy smacked the sidewalk three times rapidly. The ground quaked, and chunks of concrete and asphalt ripped free and shaped themselves into a ten-foot hulking humanoid shape. Two lights glimmered in its approximation of a head.

“But you can only do it once a day, so you should probably think ahead,” said Pollux.

The elemental spoke with a slow, rumbling voice. “What is your first command, master?”

Troy sucked a breath through his teeth. “Oh, sorry. I was just testing it.”

The elemental shook its head. “You realize that you called me away from my kid's birthday party for this?”

“Elementals have birthdays?” asked Troy.

“No, but I'm trying to put it in terms you understand. I've got better things to do than a twelve-hour commute across the cosmic void just so you can see if your magic sword works.”

“Aren't elementals timeless?”

The elemental shut its glowing eyes and rubbed its face. “Human terms. Again.”

Pollux stepped between Troy and the creature. “You can yell at the kid later. We're in the middle of something.”