This Broken Wondrous World (9 page)

“Uh, sure,” I said. “Come on, Henri, let's—”

“Alone,” Ruthven said. “Liel, if you'll entertain Henri for just a few moments.”

“You bet, boss,” she said. “Come on, Henri, let's take a peek in the theater while they're getting ready for tonight's show.”

“I'll, uh, come get you there in a minute,” I said.

Henri nodded, but I could tell he was now much more focused on Liel. I tried to turn my attention away from any weird feelings of knee-jerk jealousy, with some success, and headed for Ruthven's office.

“Thanks, Boy, this won't take a moment,” said Ruthven. He sat at his desk. Charon stood to one side.

“What's up?” I asked.

“I've heard a few odd rumors from my friends at the NYPD concerning the citywide blackout that happened when you put the original Vi out of commission a while ago. I just want to make sure that
new
Vi is still monitoring government channels for any sign that the blackout has been linked back here.”

“She's been on it,” I said.

“Good. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that this was my condition for supporting your choice to re-create her. There were a lot of company members who were against it. She needs to prove herself to be as constructive as she was destructive. Are we clear?”

“Yeah. I'll, uh, follow up with her. Just to make sure.”

“Do that.”

I stood there for a moment.

“That's all,” said Ruthven. “You may go collect Henri now.”

“I was wondering if you've heard anything more about Robert. How he escaped, where he is, that kind of stuff.”

“If I have something to share, you'll be the first to hear it,” said Ruthven.

“Uh, thanks.” As I left his office and headed across the lobby to the theater doors, I thought about the fact that “knowing something” and “having something to share” were not exactly the same thing.

Inside the theater, they were running through the sound cues for The Show. Random voices, brief instrumental interludes, and odd sound effects came and went. I saw Henri and Liel sitting in seats near the stage. Liel was saying something to him, but I couldn't hear what it was until I got closer.

“So then he shows up the next day with these gigantic legs!” she said. “Everything else is still kid-sized, but now he has these massive
man
legs!”

“No!” Henri's eyes were wide.

“I know, right? They're so out of proportion that he can't even reach his shoelaces! The poor guy has to—” She glanced over and saw me. “Oh, hey, Boy.”

“Are you seriously telling him about my transition to adult parts?” I asked. “Seriously?”

“That's what old friends do when they meet new friends. Fill them in on all the embarrassing childhood stuff.”

“Whatever,” I said, trying to cover my irritation. She was joking around like we were old buddies. Even if I was completely over what had happened between us the year before, that didn't make us friends.

I dropped into the seat next to Henri. “My parents had to go to work, and my dad's usually too tired after work to be social. So we'll meet up with them tomorrow. But he did say we should
see The Show tonight. Sound cool?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Great idea,” said Liel. “I should probably start getting ready, too. Why don't we all meet up at the Cantina after? I'll have the dryads hold us a table.”

“Oh,” I said. “Uh . . .”

“Claire's coming, too, right?” she asked.

“Of course!” said Henri. “We will all come!”

“Awesome. See you guys after The Show.”

She jogged up the aisle, her white ponytail bouncing as she made her way to the exit.

Henri's eyes followed her all the way out, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, trolls are not so awful after all, eh? In fact, I can understand why you found her so attractive. There's really something very . . .”

He glanced over at me and caught my expression.

“What? Did I do something bad?”

“I don't know. Why don't
you
explain to Claire how you've made plans for us to hang out with my ex-girlfriend tonight, and see how she reacts.”

“Oh, yes, probably not good.” Henri frowned, suddenly looking nervous.

“Can I talk to Vi for a minute?” I asked.

“Of course,” said Henri, handing me the phone.

“Hey, Vi,” I said.

“Hi, Boy! Isn't it great to be home?” Her face appeared, smiling wide.

“Uh, yeah, great,” I said.

“Oooh, that was sarcasm, wasn't it? I could tell by the way you rolled your eyes!”

“That's pretty good,” I said.

“And now you are impressed!”

I smiled. “I have to admit, this was a really good idea Henri came up with.”

“I think so, too!” She nodded vehemently.

“So, I hate to nag about this, but Ruthven wanted me to ask if you've caught any chatter about the FBI or Homeland Security tracing the blackout back to The Show.”

“Nope, nothing.”

“Great. I guess he's a little edgy right now for some reason. Just keep an eye on it.”

“You can count on me, Boy!” She gave me a military salute.

“Thanks.” Her little manga act was growing on me. And it made a certain amount of sense. When you're first learning facial and body expressions, it probably helped to study a model that was a little exaggerated.

“Boy,” came a familiar lilting voice. “What is this gorgeous creature you've brought home?”

I looked up at Laurellen, who stood in the aisle, leaning against a seat back with his arms folded across his chest. He had a bit more glamour on than he usually did in the theater, probably for Henri's benefit. He could be a bit vain, even for a faerie.

“Hey, Laurellen, this is Henri Frankenstein. But I'm guessing you already knew that.”

Laurellen shrugged. “I do try to stay informed. I knew you were bringing a human home. But I didn't know he'd be so pretty.”

I turned to Henri. “Laurellen runs the lights for The Show. Don't worry. Ruthven told him he can't steal humans back to the faerie realm anymore.”

“Oh. Good,” said Henri, his eyes slightly glazed from the glamour.

“Honestly,” said Laurellen, “I haven't been back to the faerie realm in
years
. It's such a dump these days.”

The stage vibrated with a kettledrum sound cue that was way too loud. I nodded up to the booth.

“Mozart not back yet?” Mozart was the werewolf who taught me how to hot-wire a car. He used to run sound for The Show. When I'd run away from home, Ruthven had sent him to track me down. But once he got out there, he decided instead to take me on a road trip that ultimately led to me meeting Claire and Sophie, The Commune monsters, and The Studio monsters. I owed him a lot.

“He's still out traveling around,” said Laurellen wistfully. “God knows where. Every once in a while he'll send me a little something—some local delicacy or bit of art from wherever he is at the moment. He drops Ruthven a line now and then, too. But still no word on when he might be coming back.”

“Do you think he will come back?” I asked.

He sighed. “I hope so. This new guy is nice, but it's just not the same.” He stared at the stage for a moment, frowning. “None of it is.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Are you watching the performance tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then you'll see what I mean.”

Song and Dance

“
I THINK WE
have the best seats in the theater!” said Henri.

The usher had shown us to front orchestra, row G, dead center.

“Your little fangirls hooked us up,” said Claire.

“Emergency house seats,” I said. “Charon always holds these until the last minute in case someone important shows up.”

“Like us,” said Henri.

“Just keep telling yourself that, mate,” said Claire, patting him on the top of his head.

As we settled in, I noticed that everyone else in our section was wearing suits and fancy dresses. Furs, diamonds, the works. We were just in jeans and T-shirts. I knew these tickets were really expensive. I wondered what all the nicely dressed people thought of us.

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen The Show from a regular theater seat,” I told Claire.

“Where do you usually sit?”

I pointed up to the booth window in the back of the house. “Back there with Mozart and Laurellen.”

“Is old Wolfie still out traveling around?”

“I guess. Hopping trains, hot-wiring cars. Who knows? I kind of miss that sometimes, don't you?”

“Not hardly. Sophie's the one who likes road trips.”

“When will I get to meet Sophie?” said Henri.

“When it's her turn,” said Claire, her tone flat.

“Eh, yes, of course.”

He glanced at me and I shrugged.

The truth was, I wanted to see Sophie, too. I still hadn't seen her since last summer. But I knew that when they didn't keep to their monthly on/off routine, the careful balance they maintained would start to skew one way or the other and things could get tense between them. That was something everyone wanted to avoid. So I just had to wait patiently. Sometimes it was frustrating that I didn't get to choose which one I hung out with on any given night, but I'd pretty much known from the beginning that was what I'd signed up for.

The house lights went down and I settled in to my seat, ready to be swept away from all my worries like I always was when I watched The Show.

Except, I wasn't. I kept noticing things. Little slips, missed cues, bad timing. I really wasn't trying to catch them, but it kept happening. Even my favorite numbers seemed like they were lacking something. Liel wasn't the lead dancer for the trowe number anymore. Maybe it was because she was dance captain now and couldn't do both. But the new girl just didn't have the same charisma. The Fates seemed almost bored as they built up and then tore down yet another human's hopes and dreams for the future. Even the Siren, who always seemed like she was one step away from completely losing control and driving the entire audience into a stampede, looked like she was just going through the motions. I hoped that at least Ruthven's closing speech would give me some of that old, warm fuzzy glow. But after the final number, the lights went up in the house and that was it. The
audience clapped for a while, but then gradually stopped as they realized there would be no curtain call.

After Vi version one had wrecked the theater and killed some of the company members, we'd repaired the theater and eventually gotten The Show back up and running again. I'd seen some of the final dress rehearsals before I'd left for Geneva, and they'd been a little flat. But I had assumed they just needed an audience back in there and they'd snap back to their old lively selves. If anything, it seemed even worse than before.

I thought about what Dad had said to me earlier.
We still do good work here.
I wondered now who he was really trying to convince—Henri or himself.

“That was great!” said Henri. He didn't know any better. Probably if you didn't have anything to compare it to, it was still a decent show.

Claire looked a little confused. She'd seen it a few times last summer after we got the theater fixed back up.

“Doesn't Ruthven usually do a little thing at the end about how there isn't a curtain call, but we wouldn't want you to think us ungrateful, blah blah blah?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

She frowned. “I wonder why they cut it. That was my favorite bit.”

“The whole show felt different,” I said.

“A lot of new numbers?” asked Henri.

“No new numbers, actually,” I said. “But it just felt . . . kind of phoned in. Like it's lost its heart.”

As we filed out of the theater with the rest of the audience, Henri asked, “So where is this Cantina we're going to?”

“We're going to the Cantina tonight?” asked Claire.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said. “Guess I forgot to mention it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Forgot?”

“Well . . .”

“It is all my fault,” said Henri. “I was caught up in the enthusiasm of the moment and agreed we should all meet up after The Show.”

“With Liel,” I said.

“Oh, really?” said Claire. Then she slowly smiled, and it was not a nice smile. “Excellent.”

“Um, why are you happy about this?” I asked.

“I have been waiting for a long time to give that slag a piece of my mind. She was smart enough to avoid me the last time I was here. I guess she's gotten cocky. Thinks she can handle me now. She has no idea.”

“Can we please not start a brawl on our first night back home?”

She hooked my chin with her finger, leaned in, and gave me a quick kiss. “I make no promises, sweetie.”

THE CANTINA WAS
really just the mezzanine lobby bar. Still, it was the most popular place for company members to hang out after The Show. And for people who didn't look human enough to pass, the lobby was the closest they could get to leaving the theater.

When Henri, Claire, and I showed up, we were greeted immediately by a dryad nymph.

“Boy, welcome back! We have a table waiting for you. Right this way.”

We followed her over to the large corner booth. This was where the cool kids usually hung out. Before I left The Show, I wouldn't have even rated a hello from a dryad, much less the
corner booth. And when I'd come back the first time, Vi version one had temporarily turned all the dryads into mindless killing machines who had attacked me and I'd basically had to beat the crap out of them. So I was surprised that this one was being so friendly. Of course, it was probably Liel's doing. She'd always been pretty tight with the dryads.

“Liel and Bakru will probably be here in a bit,” said the dryad. “They said go ahead and get started without them. Here's the specials for tonight. Someone will be by in a minute to take your order.” She handed me a handwritten drink menu.

“Thanks, uh . . .”

I'd never really been able to tell the dryads apart. They all looked more or less the same, like a group of stereotypical Hollywood models who'd all used the same plastic surgeon. And they didn't really have distinct personalities, as far as I could tell.

“Sequoia.” She smiled her Hollywood actress smile.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“It's totally fine. Happens all the time. You just need to get to know us better.” Then she turned and headed back to the bar.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Henri said, “
I
would like to get to know her better.”

“Keep it in your pants, Frankenstein,” said Claire.

“She was a nymph, yes?”

“A dryad,” I said. “A forest nymph. They run the bar for the audience before The Show and during the intermission, and then they open it back up for monsters once all the humans are gone. Individually, they're not real bright. But they have a sort of hive mind or collective consciousness, like bees or ants, which makes them really efficient at things like serving drinks to a large number of people in a short amount of time.”

“She is absolutely gorgeous,” said Henri admiringly.

“Who is?” asked another dryad now standing at our table, this one with a ponytail.

Henri didn't skip a beat. “Why, you, of course.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened. “You really think so?”

“Think so? I
know
so! I've never seen such perfection in the female form before in my life.”

She stared at him like there was suddenly nothing else in the room that mattered.

“Weeeell,” said Claire. “I don't know about you lads, but I'm awful thirsty.”

“Oh, right.” The dryad smiled but it seemed a little forced now. “What can I get you all?”

“I'll have a cider,” said Claire.

“Red wine for me,” said Henri.

“Uh, we can have alcohol?” I asked.

“You bet,” said the dryad.

“Okay, then can I get an IPA?”

“Got it. Those'll be up in a minute.” She turned to go.

“Wait!” said Henri.

She stopped and turned back, looking a little confused.

“You didn't tell us your name.”

“My name?” she asked, and again she stared at him with an intensity I'd never seen in a dryad before.

“Yes, of course,” he said.

“Iris.” Then she turned abruptly and headed back to her post at the bar.

“You're freaking out the dryads,” said Claire.

“Sorry, I can't help it,” he said. “Beautiful ladies! Everywhere I look! How many are there altogether?”

“Ten, I think,” I said. “It's weird that they're openly serving alcohol now.”

“It's great,” said Claire.

“Yeah, but Ruthven was never cool with underage drinking. It had to be all on the down low and only for the cool kids. And I was never one of those kids.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Ruthven was a bit of a control freak?” asked Claire. “So he's relaxing a little. That could be a good thing.”

“Maybe,” I said. “He did let Henri in here. I'm not sure he would have done that a year ago, either.”

“Drinks are served!” said a dryad with pigtails, taking glasses from a tray and placing them on our table.

“And what is
your
name?” asked Henri.

“Meadow,” she said, clearly not as thrown by the question as Iris. Or maybe since they shared a collective consciousness, she was just ready for the question this time. “And you must be Henri Frankenstein.”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“Ruthven told us about you,” she said. “Although he did not tell us how strikingly handsome you were.”

“Strikingly handsome?” he asked. “I like that . . .”

“Do you? Perhaps you would like—”

“Meadow!” Liel came over, clapping a hand on her back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can you put in an order for us?”

They stood there staring at each other for a moment. Both of them were smiling, but I felt like there was something else going on there, too. Then Meadow nodded sharply.

“Yes, of course. What would you like?”

“Two vodka tonics, thanks.”

Meadow nodded again. She glanced briefly at Henri, and then turned and left.

“Well, here we all are,” said Liel, smiling down at us. Next
to her stood the new lead trowe dancer that we'd seen in The Show that night. She was a little shorter than Liel, and she had sapphire eyes instead of diamonds. The two of them sat down in the booth with us.

“Yes, we are,” said Claire.

“Claire, I don't think we've ever actually hung out before.” Liel frowned like she was trying to remember.

“No, we haven't,” said Claire. “Can't imagine why not.”

Liel smiled at that. Either because she didn't notice the hostile tone or because she didn't care.

“Have you guys met Bakru?” she asked. Then she put her arm possessively around Bakru's waist and pulled her in close so that their hips touched. “My girlfriend.”

“Sorry,” said Claire. “When you say 'girlfriend,' you mean . . .”

“Can I just get the awkward part out of the way?” asked Bakru. “Yes, we're dating.”

Henri had been right in the middle of taking a sip of his wine and he started choking.