Welcome to Bordertown (32 page)

Analise caught Leather Boy’s eye. “So,” she asked, “know where we might find a guy named Lankin?”

The boy choked on his drink. “You’re
looking
for Lankin?”

The girl drew a fuchsia scarf closer around her, as if she were cold. “You’re new, aren’t you? You don’t want to mess with that shit. Trust me.”

Analise kept her gaze on them both, looking as determined as the time she’d decided to fight the school when they wanted to ban black clothes, claiming it was a new gang color. She’d told me once that people always tried to warn you away from the vampire, not only in her favorite book but in others, too. That was just part of the story.

The boy tilted his chair and took a deep swallow of beer. “Not like it’s hard to find old Corwyn’s nephew. Just follow Ho Street east to the old city wall, where all those old mansions used to be.”

The girl slammed her bottle down. “You
asshole.
”

The boy’s chair thumped back to the floor. “What? If I didn’t tell her, someone else would. It’s not as if Lankin’s location is some deep, dark secret, whatever the Silver Suits say.”

The girl grabbed her bag and her beer and got to her feet. “You”—she pointed at her companion—“can sleep outside tonight.” She stormed to the door, stopped, and looked back—at me, not Analise. “If you made it to Bordertown at all, you’re smarter than this. Find a job, get a squat, get a life. It’s not as hard as it seems at first. My name’s Janet. I run with a gang called the Bards—if you need a friend, they’ll know where to find me.” Silver acorns jangled as she slammed the door shut behind her.

“Hey, thanks,” Analise told the boy.

“Don’t thank me, newbie. Not for this.” He turned back to his drink, more intently than before.

I thought about what Janet had said. All my life I’d heard about how smart I was, but smart didn’t mean shit to Homeland Security. My 4.0 average and that art award I won last year were worth less than which side of the border I was born on. The
other
border. You’d think that invisible line through creosote and cholla—between the U.S. and Mexico—wouldn’t matter so much now, with Bordertown’s return reminding us that all our human countries are part of the same magicless World. But while the Worldside elves and halfies still had the amnesty the U.S. gave them when the Way back to their Border disappeared, there was no amnesty for me, never mind that I’d been living in the U.S. longer than most of them had, so long I couldn’t remember living anywhere else.

At the hearing, after the judge refused to let us stay, Papá and Mamá had agreed to voluntary departure instead, though as far as I was concerned, there was nothing voluntary about it. My parents said at least he’d given us a little time, to get things in order and sell what we could. My little brothers, who were born in America and were U.S. citizens, could come back one day if they wanted. But though I’d grown up right beside them, I couldn’t return, not for at least a couple decades, and even then only if one of them filed for me.

If I had to leave everything behind, without finishing high school or getting an art degree or doing anything else I’d planned on, I wanted at least to decide on the place. I wanted it to be somewhere with magic.
I
wanted to do the choosing this time, instead of always being dragged across borders that other people chose for me.

The cayenne tasted stale at the back of my throat. I wondered
whether Papá and Mamá and the boys were gone yet. I wondered whether I’d see them again, and whether they’d ever forgive me.

*   *   *

“How’re the burritos?” The kid waiter was back at our table.

I shrugged, trying to be polite. “They’re okay. Could use stronger peppers, though.”

The boy’s eyebrows rose toward his blue-streaked hair. “I do believe you’re the first person to say that. I’ll tell Mingus—oughta scare him good, knowing someone asked for more melt in her Meltdown. He’ll think he’s slipping.” The boy flashed us a smile. “You two new?”

“No,” Analise said.

“Yes,” I said at the same time.

“First drink’s free if you’re new,” the boy told us. “Make me an offer on the food.”

Analise reached into her backpack and pulled out a twenty. The boy rolled his eyes. “New,” he declared. “The green stuff might be worth something in the World, but it won’t pay Mingus’s bills.”

I’d told Analise that Soho didn’t run on money, but neither of us had really believed it. Still, I’d come prepared. I pulled a ziplock bag full of brownies from my pack—the water hadn’t gotten through the plastic—and offered a couple to the kid.

The boy frowned. “Those made with real chocolate? Or that fake carob crap?” He pinched a small corner from one of the brownies and tasted it. His eyes went wide.

Analise laughed. She loved the effect my habanero brownies had on people. I’d started making them after we became friends, because they had a little of something each of us liked: hot habanero peppers for me, bitter dark chocolate for her.

Our waiter not only accepted the brownies as payment; he told
us our next meal was on the house. Back outside, Analise and I exchanged high fives.

“Your brownies
rock
,” Analise said.

“They do, don’t they?” I scanned the street for the trolley, but I saw no sign of unicorns, only of something halfway between an old-fashioned stagecoach and a squashed Sun Tran bus. Bells made of silver and bone and who-knew-what-else clanked from black posts as the thing lurched along, heading in the wrong direction. Looked like we were going to have to walk.

I didn’t really mind. Walking had gotten us this far, after all, at least once I’d figured out the washes were the closest thing Tucson has to a yellow brick road—especially that one wash with “Bordertown LIVES” spray-painted under a bridge. I was here now, my clothes were mostly dry, my backpack was filled with brownies, and I was with my best friend. It was enough to make me feel just a little bit invincible, you know?

In Analise’s and my books, no one’s invincible, not even the immortal vampires, but before I could remember that, my best friend jabbed me in the ribs, hard, and I saw a werewolf heading down the street, straight toward us.

He wasn’t in full wolf form—he walked on two legs, not four—but his fingers all ended in claws, and his arms and face and especially his very wolflike ears were covered with reddish fur. He was real; that was the main thing. The first real magic I’d seen outside the river.

In the stories, of course, not all werewolves were safe, any more than all vampires were. We’d come prepared for that, too. For the vampires we’d brought holy water (until we got so thirsty in the washes) and still wore silver crosses—Analise had the one I’d gotten for my confirmation, while I had the one I’d worn as a baby, during my first border crossing, though I’d put it on a longer
chain. Werewolves were harder, because no one in Tucson actually sells silver bullets, at least not to sixteen-year-olds who aren’t willing to present proper ID. Analise had stolen her mom’s silver-plated letter opener instead. It was the best we could do.

This werewolf didn’t look very dangerous, though. He mostly looked interested in the slice of mushroom pizza he was digging into with his gleaming fangs. Weren’t werewolves supposed to be carnivores? I realized I was staring and turned away. He had better things to do than talk to me, I was sure.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Sometimes Analise knew me a little too well. She turned me around and pushed me back toward that werewolf. I tripped over the uneven pavement and bumped right into him. His pizza fell cheese-side down on the pavement.

“Sorry!” I said, even as the werewolf stepped back, holding up his hands in apology, like he didn’t know his lost pizza was entirely my fault. Or maybe when you were a wolf it was better to apologize anyway, so that people knew you weren’t going to eat them. Definitely not a dangerous wolf, then.

I looked up into his golden eyes. “Umm, hi.” My hand strayed toward his fur, and I pulled it back before I could pet him without thinking.

The wolf nodded politely, walked past me, and kept walking.

“Wait!” I ran after him. “You’re—” I had trouble getting words out, but I couldn’t blow this chance. “You’re a—”

The wolf sighed and turned back to me. He looked less polite than before—not I’m-a-werewolf-about-to-go-on-a-killing-rampage impolite, but more like seriously-now-not-
again
impolite, which made no sense since we’d only just met. He pulled a small square of paper out of his pocket.

I read it.

Sorry. Not a shape-shifter. Welcome to Bordertown.

Was he in denial? That happened sometimes in stories. Pretty hard to deny all that fur, though. “So, umm, want to—do something?” My voice squeaked. “Like—a movie?” Stupid, stupid,
stupid.
I knew there were no movies in Bordertown, unless you counted the Magic Lantern, which the
Guide
didn’t.

He handed me another square of paper.
Also, I have a girlfriend.

My face burned. I wasn’t sure how I kept speaking. “Well, do you—have a brother? Maybe?”

The werewolf rolled his eyes, and I didn’t need a square of paper to read
that.
I looked down before he could hand me another piece of paper anyway, one telling me just how much of a loser I was. When I looked up again, the wolf was a full block away, walking fast.

“I am an idiot,” I announced to Analise.

“We should stalk him,” my best friend said helpfully. “I can do the talking this time, if you want.”

I would sooner have died than face him again. “Let’s find your vampire.”

Just because I’d blown it with the wolf didn’t mean Analise shouldn’t still have her chance at true love, right? That’s what I told myself then.

Now I tell myself that even Analise would agree werewolves are better than vampires after all.

*   *   *

We followed Ho Street east past the bars and music clubs and through blocks of derelict buildings turned to squats. Eventually, the crumbling apartment buildings gave way to the ruins of old stone mansions, which meant we must be getting close. Beyond them, the old city wall was crumbling as well, the sun growing low behind it.

Analise rubbed at her calves. “Why would a vampire live
here
?”

My legs ached, too, by then, and I felt the cobblestones through the thin soles of my sneakers. I scanned the cracked masonry and broken glass around us.

Wait—over there. Something flickered against the old city wall, like the bright spots left behind after you look at the sun. The air wavered, and a grand old mansion came into focus, peaked towers and wraparound balcony and all.

“Magic,” I whispered as the sky settled into the deep blue-green it takes on before full dark.

“That’s it,” Analise whispered back, her voice sounding as awed as the time she’d learned the author of her vampire book had written a sequel. “It has to be.”

Because I’m telling this true, I’ll admit it: I felt a twinge of jealousy, imagining the long flowing dresses and grand balls that went with such a mansion. Werewolves weren’t much into parties and pretty clothes; they were too busy hunting down game and getting leaves tangled in their fur.

We walked up the path to the mansion together, crosses hidden beneath our shirts, holding hands like little kids. The stones beneath us glittered in the failing light as we climbed the stairs. The faintest of winds rippled over us, raising goose bumps beneath my fleece and T-shirt, and the door blew open, as if it were light as paper.
This is too easy.
I pushed the thought aside, afraid of letting my jealousy get in the way of Analise’s happiness. Just because I’d messed up with the werewolf, did I want the vampire to be hard, too?

Analise released my hand at last and strode through that doorway, head held high, as if she were born to this. Not like me—what had I ever been born to, except for dangerous journeys to places that could never really be home in the end? I hurried after my best friend, past the statues of giant hounds on either side of
the door and into a huge marble hall. A chandelier filled with lit candles hung from the ceiling, and more glitter sparkled in the air around us. Several tall elves stood guard along the walls, so still I couldn’t tell if they were real or only more statues.

I didn’t belong in a place like this. Analise grabbed my hand again, and I wondered if she felt it, too, even though she mostly did belong in the place she’d grown up, and maybe would have stayed there if not for me.

I pulled away first, afraid of holding her back. “Go on. You’re better at this than I am.”

Analise lifted her head and walked up to one of the elves. “I’m looking for Lankin.” Her voice didn’t squeak, not even a little.

The elf didn’t move, but from the center of the room a soft velvet voice said, “And so you have found him.”

I flinched; I hadn’t heard him enter the room. But there he stood beneath the chandelier, an elf in a black velvet jacket, tight leather pants, and a frilled silk shirt. Silver hair fell loose over his shoulders. He looked exactly like the vampire in a story
should
look, complete with the faintest glimpse of fang showing over his lower lip. I hadn’t known elves could be vampires the way humans could.

Analise caught her breath. Even I wondered—just for a second or two—what it would be like to run my hands through that hair. Then I caught his silver eyes regarding me with the same amused curiosity a cat regards a rolled-up ball of paper, and I stepped back. I’d stick to werewolves after all.

Analise’s eyes were bright. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“Indeed.” He held out his hand. “Will you come?”

Analise walked the distance between them. “I will.” She took his hand—the cross beneath her shirt didn’t seem to trouble him—and together they strode across the room.

“Wait!” My voice echoed after them. It wasn’t supposed to be
like this. We were supposed to—what? Wander off together with Analise’s future vampire lover? How did I expect this story to go?

Lankin turned gracefully around, his fingers wrapped around Analise’s. Analise gazed up at him, as if there were nothing else in all the universe, as if she’d gotten glitter dust in her eyes. True love was supposed to be like that, wasn’t it?