Magic Street (31 page)

"Why not?" said Ceese. "Nobody's biting them."

Mack held up a hand. "Stop."

Ceese stopped. He saw Mack simply disappear.

Then he looked closer and realized that they were at the edge of a chasm. There was a fast-moving river at the bottom, and Mack had swung down a little way, clinging to a complicated root system.

Ceese saw the other side and it didn't look so far off. He extended his huge arm to reach for the opposite bank. But inexplicably he couldn't quite touch it. It was as if it kept retreating just enough to be a half-inch out of reach.

"I can't bridge it," said Ceese.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," said Mack. "I think it's part of the protection of the place.

You can't cross over the chasm, you have to get down to the river's edge."

Ceese crept along the edge. "All right, I'll climb down over here so I don't accidently kill you by brushing you off the wall of the canyon."

Ceese swung a leg down over the edge.

"Stop!" screamed Mack.

"Just a second," said Ceese, meaning to drop down to the bottom before he stopped.

"Stop now! Get your leg back up! Now!"

Ceese stopped. But he still felt an overwhelming desire to jump down.

The same kind of desire he felt that day Yolanda tried to get him to throw baby Mack over the stair rail. So maybe it was an impulse he ought to ignore.

Ceese pulled up his leg.

Mack ran over to him. "Your leg was shrinking. As soon as it went over the side, it was getting down to normal size. What if you aren't big when you go down there?"

Mack pulled the film canister out of his pants pocket and held it up by his ear. "What should we do?"

Ceese didn't bother getting Puck out of his pocket. It was Yolanda in charge of this expedition.

"She says she has no idea what happens, she's never been here before. But maybe it's time to let them out."

Ceese pulled the canister out of his pocket. It was easier to get the top off without Mack's help.

Ceese saw Puck stick his head out. He was drenched with sweat, panting. "I want air-conditioning before I go back in there."

"Watch out for birds," said Ceese.

"Not so many around here," said Puck.

"Only takes one."

"At this point I don't care. It can't be any worse inside a bird's gut."

Ceese saw that Mack was perching Yolanda inside the collar of his shirt. A killer squirrel leapt for the spot. Mack dodged and the squirrel plunged over the side. Ceese had never heard a squirrel scream before. Now he knew why Wile E. Coyote never made a sound in the Road Runner cartoons. An animal screaming all the way down a cliff was a chilling sound.

"No way in hell I'm getting inside your collar!" shouted Puck.

"Where then?"

"Your jacket pocket."

"What if you get big real fast?" said Ceese. "I don't want to have to replace this jacket, it's real leather."

"Now it's mesh," said Puck.

Sure enough, the birds and squirrels and who knew what other creatures had pecked and torn holes all over the leather. Tiny ones, but holes all the same. Ceese realized his neck must look like that, too.

Mack called out. "Yo Yo says to go slow, and hold on to vines and roots the whole way. Plants don't obey Oberon the way animals do. Especially trees. Very stubborn. They won't let go of us."

Then he added, "Nobody ever called a tree a pushover."

"Maybe it's turning over a new leaf," said Ceese.

a child getting a piggyback ride.

"That shirt's going to rip, you get any bigger," said Ceese helpfully.

Puck was out of his pocket now, holding on to his shoulders. And by the time they reached the bottom, Puck was as heavy as the slightly overweight older man that he was, while Ceese was just a normal-sized LAPD cop.

Also, Puck and Yolanda were stark naked.

"Our clothes didn't grow back to normal size," Puck explained. "Oberon's sense of humor."

"But my clothes shrank back to normal size with me," said Ceese.

"No way did Oberon make up this place in the split second when he realized we were imprisoning him," said Yolanda. "Not with all these complicated traps. He was already plotting this. I think we got him just in time."

Puck smiled wickedly. "Well, that's my beloved master. Mayhem with a dirty twist."

"I was counting on Ceese still being a giant when we got to the grove."

"Maybe he will be, when we go up the other side," said Mack.

"If there's any chance my clothes will get exploded when I get bigger, I'm taking them off down here," said Ceese.

Since nobody offered him any guarantees, he took off everything except his underwear. Then he jumped over the water, with Puck holding his hand. Mack brought Yolanda over the water, too.

By ten feet up the cliff on the other side, Ceese's underwear had burst open. He was growing again. And the two fairies were shrinking. Only there weren't any pockets this time.

"You're sweaty and you stink," said Puck.

"You want a bath," said Ceese, "we got running water down there."

"I was just saying: Wear some cologne."

"I do."

"What, eau de pig sty?"

"It just said 'toilet water.' "

Puck laughed—well, chirped, his voice being very high by now.

Of course, to a naked guy—even a giant—any size cat was plenty dangerous. Those claws.

Those teeth. Ceese's scrotum shriveled. "What if he goes for my dick?" asked Ceese.

"Then ten thousand women will mourn!" shouted Puck. "Let's get a move on!"

"It's not fair that Mack gets clothes and I don't," said Ceese.

"What are you, six?" asked Puck.

Ceese didn't bother answering. The birds were really going at him now, and with no leather jacket to protect him the branches were almost as bad.

They were at the edge of the clearing.

The two lanterns were still there.

"There I am!" shouted Puck.

"Wait!" cried Yolanda. "Let me at least look for traps."

In reply, Ceese handed Puck to Mack and crawled into the clearing.

The panther leapt.

Ceese swatted it away. It struck a tree trunk and dropped in a heap at the base.

Ceese reached out for the nearest floating lantern. It shied away from his hand. When he tried for the other one, it did the same.

"All right, Miss Fairy Queen, what do I do now? Keep playing this game till I die of old age?"

"Be patient," said Yolanda. "When I say the counterword, they'll stop evading you. But the moment I say it, you have to get them both at once. One can't be opened without the other. That's the way Oberon thinks. He'd make sure we can't figure out which soul is mine and then leave Puck imprisoned. So if I get free, Puck gets free, and then my darling husband will try to make Puck do something."

Puck just stood there and grinned.

Ceese asked him, "You couldn't just tell us what will happen, could you?"

"Of course he can't," said Yolanda. "He is not his own fairy. Don't worry. Now be ready, because as soon as I say the counter-word, we have to move very quickly."

"I'm ready," said Ceese.

Then she slumped to her knees and her voice also became audible as the scream lowered in pitch and faded to a sigh.

Ceese reached out both hands at once and snatched at the lanterns. They held still. He caught them.

Kneeling in the grass, he got his thumbnails under the lantern roofs and tried to pry them off at exactly the same moment. "Somebody needs to bring pop-top technology to Fairyland," he said.

"Just break them. Crush them," whispered Yolanda, exhausted for the moment by the word she had uttered. "You can't hurt us. That's our most immortal part inside that glass."

"How can one part be more immortal than another?" grumbled Ceese as he pried.

"Immortaler," said Puck, correcting him like an English teacher. "Do what the lady said."

Still kneeling in the grass, Ceese pinched both lanterns between thumb and forefinger and crushed them.

With a sharp crack and a crunch of shards of glass rubbing together, the lanterns exploded.

Two tiny lights arose from the lanterns' wreckage between Ceese's fingers.

There must have been a thousand birds waiting in the trees. And now they all swooped out and down, darting for the lights.

Mack moved just as quickly. Holding Puck in one hand and Yolanda in the other, he thrust their tiny bodies toward the hovering lights.

As they neared each other, they became like magnets. The lights crossed each other's path and caught the bodies of the fairies in midair.

There was an explosion of light.

The birds veered and now were circling the clearing, around and around, like a whirlpool of black feathers. But as they flew, their colors changed, brightened. Suddenly there were as many red and blue and yellow birds as black and brown, and among them were fantastically colored parrots, and their calls changed from harsh caws to musical sounds.

The leaves on the trees changed, too, from the colors of autumn to a thousand different shades of green, and many of the trees burst out in blossoms.

In the middle of the clearing, Yolanda stood, normal size again, with her head bowed and her arms folded across her chest. Then, as she raised her head, moth wings unfolded from her back, thin and bright as a stained-glass window. She opened her eyes and looked at the birds. Then she opened her arms, opened her hands, and the birds rose up again into the green-covered branches and sang now in unison, like an avian Tabernacle Choir. The Fairy Queen opened her mouth and joined in the song, her voice rising rich and beautiful like the warm sun rising on a crisp morning.

Mack took a step toward her. She smiled.

Then she whirled toward the strong and tall young black-winged manfairy that Puck had just become. With a quick movement of her hand and a brief "Sorry, doll," she shrank him down and her finger hooked him toward her as surely as if she had just lassoed him. As he approached, he shrank, until he was grasped in her hollow fist, the way a child holds a firefly.

"Give me a film canister," she said.

Mack had them in his pockets.

She held the open canister under the heel of her fist and then blew into the top. In a moment she had the lid on.

She blew another puff of air onto the film canister, and it became a small cage made of golden wire, beautifully woven.

Inside, Puck leaned against the wires, cursing at her.

Another puff of air and his voice went silent.

Then she turned to Ceese and offered him the golden cage that contained Puck. "Oberon is free now," she said. "And Puck is his slave. He must have known I'd have no choice but to do this."

"If Oberon is awake," said Mack, "we don't have much time."

"Take it," she said to Ceese. "Take him back to the house. Don't let him out of your sight. I don't want anybody stealing him and trying to control him like the poor fairies that gave rise to those genie-in-a-bottle stories."

Ceese took the cage, looking at the raging fairy whose wings fluttered madly as he ran around and around inside the cage, treating the walls and ceiling of the spherical cage as if they were all floor and there were no up and down.

"Be gentle with him," said Titania. "I owe him so much. And when this is over, he will be free.

Not just from that cage, but from Oberon as well. His own man again. A free fairy." And softly, tenderly, she leaned toward the cage. "You have my word on it, you nasty, beautiful fairy boy." She looked up into Ceese's face. "Get going. The animals should leave you alone now, but you want to be out of Fairyland before the dragon comes."

"Good idea," said Ceese.

As he neared the place where the brick path began, he stopped one last time to look around over the beautiful green of springtime in Fairyland. He knew that he would probably never see this land again. Nor would he ever be so tall, or see so far.

When he looked south, toward where Cloverdale climbed the mountain in his home world, he saw a hot red shaft of light shoot upward, surrounded by smoke.

And in the shaft a huge black snaky thing began to writhe upward. Even at this distance, Ceese could see how the creature's slimy skin shone in many colors, like a slick of oil on a puddle.

Two great wings unfolded, shaped like enormous bat wings, but webbed like the wings of a dragonfly. They kept unfolding until they extended to an impossible span.

And two red eyes opened and blinked.

From the cage in Ceese's hand, a tiny high voice cried out. "Here, Master! I'm here! She went that way! She's over there! Head for the temple of Pan! Set me free to help you!"

Ceese dropped to his knees and closed his fist over the golden cage. Then he crawled onto the brick path until he was small enough to stand up and walk.

He strode across the patio and opened the back door. The golden cage now was the size of a grapefruit in his hand. Inside the lacework of golden wires, Puck hung by his hands from the wires, his body racked with great sobs. "God help me!" he cried, again and again. "I hate him! I hate him!" And then, more softly, "Beloved master, beautiful king."

SLUG

As soon as Ceese left the clearing, bearing away Puck in his golden cage, Titania flung her arms around Mack and clung to him. "He's coming," she whispered. "I can feel him rising."

"We've got to go," Mack said. "It's a good long run."

"You forget that I'm in my power now." She kissed him. "I'm so afraid."

"There's a chance that we'll lose?"

"If he wins today, I'll win tomorrow. No, I'm afraid that if I win, he won't love me anymore. You won't love me anymore."

"But he does," she said. "The only reason you don't love me is you're upset because you think I betrayed Puck. You're so good and pure, Mack. But if you were a little more wicked and selfish like me, you'd realize that Puck was a tool that Oberon could have used against me. Now he can't."

"I understand that," said Mack.

"With your mind," said Titania. "But in here"—she touched his chest—"you would never be able to do such a thing. So loyal and true. Fly with me, Mack Street."

"I can't fly."

"But I can." In a quick, sudden movement she swung herself around behind him, gripped him across his chest and under his arms, then wrapped her legs around him. All the while, she was beating her wings, so she weighed nothing. Less than nothing: Under her wings they both rose from the ground.

In a moment they were above the clearing. She took one soaring circle. No birds came near them. Mack could see the glorious spring forest spreading in all directions. Only now did he realize that in all his wanderings, he had never seen spring. Perhaps there was no spring when Titania wasn't free in this world.

Not so far away, smoke was rising from a gap in the hills—the place where the drainpipe rose in the other world.

"He's coming up now," said Titania. "Away we go."

He was surprised at how fast she flew. Like a dragonfly, not a moth. She could hover in one place, then dart like a rocket. He could feel the muscles flexing in her chest and arms as they balanced and responded to the exertions of her wing muscles. As womanly as this fairy queen might be, she was also a magnificent creature, overwhelmingly strong.

"So the pixie dust thing is just a myth," said Mack.

She laughed. "J. M. Barrie knew boys. But he didn't know fairies. Not like Shakespeare. He glimpsed Puck once, and one of my daughters. He thought the sparks of light were fairy dust. He had no idea what was going on."

"What was going on?"

"Oberon's first attempt to make you," said Titania. "Using Puck as the father. And no humans at all. It didn't work."

"How many tries?"

"Four. Five counting you. The last two could have done it, but they were never able to connect with the people around them. Never able to catch the dreams. It takes a village to raise a changeling."

"That's what humans never understand," said Titania. "They're so seduced by the material world, they think that's what's real. But all the things they touch and see and measure, they're just—wishes come true. The reality is the wishing. The desire. The only things that are real are beings who wish.

And their wishes become the causes of things. Wishes flow like rivers; causality bubbles up from the earth like springs. We fairies drink wishes like wine, and inside us they're digested and turned to reality. Brought to life. All this life!"

"More to the right," Mack directed her. "That hill over there. You're heading for Cheviot Hills."

"I never did get the grasp of LA. Too much asphalt. Tar smeared over the face of the earth."

"On which you rode that motorcycle."

"It was the closest I could come to flying like this. Only they would never let me ride naked."

"So the dreams that I absorbed and stored—they're real."

"Dreams are the stuff that life is made of," said Titania.

"And what am I made of, then? Coming into the world after gestating only an hour?"

"You're Oberon's wish. All his wishes for beauty and truth and life. For order and system, for kindness and love. Poured out into the body of a woman and allowed to grow in the form that she dreamed of."

"So she really was my mother."

"The mother of your shape. But Oberon was father and mother of your soul."

"I thought I didn't have one."

Titania laughed lightly, like music in the hurtling wind.

"So," said Mack. "How are we going to fight him?"

"I don't know," said Titania.

That was not good news. "I thought you had a plan."

"I have a plan to make me as strong as possible. And him a little weaker. But once you start hurling unformed causality around, you never quite know what's going to happen. I'll do some things.

He'll do some things. The things we do will change the way things work. So we'll do different things.

Until I'm strong enough to bind him."

"What does it mean, to bind him?"

"So it's all about you and him."

"That's right. I draw power from the fairy circle. And he can't see it. He won't know they're there. At first, anyway."

Mack thought about that. "What am I here for? Why didn't you send me back with Ceese?"

No answer.

"Yo Yo?"

No answer.

"Titania, tell me. I should know."

"You're his fairy circle," she said. "The power he's been storing up for years. Storying up, so to speak."

"So I'm on his side?"

"In a way," she said. "But by having you near me, he can't do anything really awful to me."

Now he understood. "I'm your hostage."

"It's a similar relationship. Except that normally, hostages don't get eaten."

"You're going to eat me?"

"No, silly. I love you. He wants to eat you. Or the dreams stored in you, I mean. He'd spit the rest of you back out."

"So I'd live?"

"It won't happen, so don't worry about it."

"Why won't it happen?"

"Because he knows that while he's eating the dreams out of you, I would reunite you with him.

I'd restore the virtues he drove out of him."

"And he doesn't want that?"

"Suddenly he'd have a conscience again. He'd remember how much he loves me. It would completely ruin his side of this little war."

"What would happen to me?"

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she said. "Like I told you, baby. I don't know how this will all come out. We just play with the causalities he gives us, and throw our own realities back at him."

She settled lightly to the ground in the middle of the henge of seventeen columns. She unwrapped herself from Mack's body. "Time to do your art, baby."

Mack set to work at once with a red magic marker, drawing a small heart on each column and moving quickly on.

Word was exhausted at the end of his sermon. His listeners weren't—after all, it was still daylight when he finished, and they were all hoping that his healing touch would come into their lives, too. But he was finished because the invisible hand down his back had finally let him go. He had nothing left.

He would have gone into Rev Theo's office to rest, but he remembered the use it had been put to so recently. He sat down in one of the folding chairs at the back of the sanctuary and closed his eyes.

Whatever possessed him had spoken again. This time Word wasn't taken by surprise, and he was fatalistic about it. Either it would come or it wouldn't. Either he'd be given words to say, or he wouldn't.

But by whom? He didn't like the sense that it was linked to Mack and Yolanda. What went on with them was not from God—he knew that much, at least. So why did the spirit only start working through him when the two of them emerged from their semi-holy tryst? Whatever spirit it was, it still worried him that it might not be the Holy Spirit of God.

If I don't serve Jesus with what I do, then whose service am I in?

All the things I said to people. Were they true? Or did they become true because I said them?

That was what Word had come to believe when he studied psychology as an undergraduate. He came to the conclusion that Freud wasn't discovering things, he was creating them. There were no Oedipus complexes until Freud started telling that story and people started interpreting their own lives through that lens. Like neuralgia or the vapors or UFOs or humors or any of the other weird theories—once the story was out there, people started believing it.

So now, am I doing the same thing? Do I say things, and then they become sort of true because I said them? Or are they already true, and this spirit that possesses me reveals that truth and heals whatever can be healed? Am I giving peace, or creating chaos?

Is any part of this from me, my own wish to make sense of things? Or some even deeper need that I didn't know about—a desire to dominate? Because that's what's happening. The way they look at me. Worshipful. Grateful. It's the look of faith. I've given them something I don't even have myself—certainty. Trust.

"Some sermon tonight," said Theo.

"I don't know when it's going to happen," said Word. "For all I know, this was the last time."

"You doing fine before the spirit come into you tonight."

"You could tell when it came?"

"You turned around and looked back at the door, like you heard the Spirit of God coming up behind you, and then you turn around and tell that woman her son lying to her. I say it don't get much clearer than that."

"I didn't hear the Spirit of God. I heard Mack and Yolanda come out of the church."

"Well now," said Rev Theo. "How did you hear that? So much noise, and the door already open, and they didn't walk heavy."

"I don't know," said Word. "I don't even know if it's the Spirit of God that comes into me."

"It's the spirit of truth. Spirit of healing. Have some faith."

"It falls too close in line with the kind of thing I want and wish for," said Word.

"It's right in line with the ministry of His Majesty King Jesus," said Theo. "He said come follow me, and you doing it, Word. Even your name. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and—"

"Don't finish that," said Word. "Or I'll change my name."

"I ain't saying that last part is about you. But it's a sure thing that Word is with God. Don't you doubt it."

"Rev Theo, I don't trust it."

"If it comes, it comes," said Rev Theo. "When it doesn't, you just tell them, the Holy Spirit comes when he comes, but the words of Jesus are always with us. We not in this to put on a show, Word. We in this to save souls."

"I know that," said Word. "What I don't trust is... I don't know whether it's good or not."

"Oh, it's good, Word."

"In the long run. They worship me, Rev Theo."

"The thing that's inside me—I think it's their worship that it's after."

"Of course it is," said Rev Theo. "Didn't he say, Love the Lord your God with all your—"

"No, Rev Theo. What it wants is for them to worship me. To obey me. To elevate me. To give me power in this world. It wants me to rule over people because they think God is in me. It's lust.

Ambition. Pride."

"If you got those sins, we can work on repentance—"

"I don't have those sins, Rev Theo. Or if I do, I don't have them so bad. It's not my feeling. It's what I get from the thing inside me. It doesn't feel good. It feels malicious."

Rev Theo didn't have a comforting word for him. Not a word at all.

Word opened his eyes. Rev Theo was leaning back, studying him. "You a complicated boy, Word."

"Not so complicated," said Word. "I just want to do good. For good reasons."

"Sometimes people do bad for good reasons, and God forgives them. And sometimes they do good for bad reasons, and God forgives them. And when they do bad for bad reasons, God will forgive them if they repent and come unto him. You got nothing to fear, Word."

Word pretended that this was the answer he needed, because he knew that wise as Rev Theo was, he didn't understand. He hadn't felt that hot hand down his back. He hadn't felt the glee that radiated from it when people wept as they called out: Word, Word, Word.

It's the beast, and I'm the prophet of the beast. I know that now. It's pretending to be the Holy Ghost, but it isn't. So I'm not serving God, even though that's what I meant. I'm serving... someone else. Maybe someone like Bag Man. Except it's not the way Dad said it was for him. Bag Man made him want things he didn't want. This thing inside me doesn't change what I want. I'm still the same person I was.

Word let Rev Theo take him partway home in his rattletrap ministry car, an ancient Volvo that looked like a cardboard box with wheels and rust spots. "Thing that makes me most proud of this car," Rev Theo liked to say, "ain't a mechanic left in LA knows how to fix it. So you know it runs on faith alone."

Rev Theo dropped him at the bus stop and not long after, Word got on the bus that ran down La Brea and dropped him at Coliseum. Word insisted on that—no need for Rev Theo to take him all the way in to Baldwin Hills, it was too far out of his way. Even though it did mean it was nearly midnight by the time Word wound his way into the neighborhood.

Walking up Cloverdale, Word saw Ceese Tucker's patrol car and Yolanda's motorcycle parked in front of Chandresses' house. But the house looked dark, like nobody was there, or at least nobody was up.

A lot of them greeted him, but they didn't volunteer any information and Word didn't ask.

Maybe they could see on his face how distracted and worried he was. Whatever they were doing, Word wasn't part of it.

He got home and Mother was drinking tea in the kitchen. "Your father's in his office and he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"I'm tired myself," said Word. "He still upset about those poems?"

"Actually, he got some complimentary emails today. There are people out there who like the kind of old-fashioned poetry your father has apparently been writing for twenty years without ever giving me or anyone else a hint."

"Well that's good," said Word.

"So his wish came true, I guess," said Mother. "I wouldn't mind a few of my wishes coming true."

Word sat down across the table from her. "What is the wish of your heart, Mom?"