Wood Sprites (27 page)
Authors: Wen Spencer
No, she couldn’t warn the
sekasha
. She could do nothing to save Windwolf.
Louise could barely breathe as grief and fear formed a huge burning knot in her chest. She felt like she was teetering on a crumbling edge and any moment she was going to go crashing down.
“Why,” Stormsong whispered in Elvish, “do I feel so alive?”
Louise blinked back tears and realized that the female had stopped pacing right in front of her.
Suddenly her box slid upward, exposing Louise.
Stormsong held the box over her head, gazing down at Louise with confusion.
Louise gazed up at her in utter terror.
For an eternity they looked into each other eyes. Louise knew not what the warrior saw within her, but Louise saw grim determination settle on the face of the female.
“Go,” Stormsong whispered in English. “Quietly. Now.”
And she settled the box back over Louise.
Louise gasped, startled back into breathing.
“Now,” the warrior growled lowly and gave the box a slight nudge.
Louise bolted, running blindly to the stairs and then down, and around, and down, and around, flight after flight until she was in the Grand Gallery of the first floor. They’d assumed that they wouldn’t be able to get out the way they’d come in. The backup route took her through the Northwest Coast Indians and the Imax Corridor and then to the glass-walled Weston Pavilion. It wasn’t until she was at the Columbus Avenue Entrance that she realized she had done the entire run completely blind.
Was she really in the museum’s proverbial back door?
She flipped her phone to the GPS screen and checked.
She was.
How had she managed that?
And where was Jillian?
She checked her twin’s coordinates. According to Jillian’s phone, she was just a few feet away.
“Are you okay?” Jillian texted.
Louise had to try three times to type a simple “yes” and then twice to send “here.”
“Me or you?” Jillian texted. They both had an exit kit just in case they were separated and needed to escape quickly.
“You,” Louise tapped in. She was so rattled that she screwed the spelling up, but autocorrect fixed it.
“Okay. Keep watch.”
As far as they could determine, the museum had a maze of office areas and work spaces tucked between the windowless visitor areas and the building’s façade that showed four stories of windows. They had picked their exit point because it was one of the few places where they were sure that the interior wall actually gave direct access to the outdoors and not into “staff only” areas. The sleek modern pavilion was one giant cube of glass.
With muffled thumps and quiet mutters, Jillian got the Hoberman megasphere out of her backpack, shoved it under the bottom of her box, and flicked it to expand the tight bundle of plastic into a bright-colored, four-and-a-half-foot-wide, loosely woven ball. Louise winced slightly as the sphere seemed to appear out of nowhere on the museum security monitors. They had practiced this, but they weren’t totally sure it would work. They hadn’t used it to get in, since they hadn’t figured out a way to keep the sphere invisible while using it to breach a wall.
Jillian reached out from under her box to adjust the megasphere. Her disembodied hand turned the ball so that the loop threaded with wire was lined up with the window. With the soft murmur of Elvish, Jillian activated the spell. Another slight push, and the loop slid into the glass and the glass temporarily vanished. Then came the scary part, actually stepping through the loop, box and all. The spell affected only what it was touching at the moment of activation, but Louise couldn’t help but imagine that they would end up in the quantum space where the glass molecules were suspended.
“I’m through,” Jillian called from outside.
Louise carefully lined her box up with the loop and stepped through. “Okay, I’m out.”
Jillian’s hand appeared and jerked the loop out of the glass and canceled the spell. “It’s out. Let’s go!”
Louise checked the security camera feed. It showed the glass back in place and the multicolor ball bouncing away as it trailed behind Jillian, still connected by the wire. With a quiet thud and a muted “oomph” Jillian hit a tree and bounced off it.
Wincing, Louise checked the other security cameras. There were no guards heading toward the Columbus Street exit, so no one must have noticed the ball for the minute it was inside the museum. Breathing out with relief, Louise followed after Jillian into the wooded safety of Theodore Roosevelt Park.
April Geiselman jerked open the door. She was in a bathrobe, and her makeup was weirdly smeared. She glared down at them. “What are you doing here? It’s after dark. Do your parents know where you are?”
“We need help.” Jillian slipped past her into the apartment. Tesla followed Jillian in, unstoppable as a tank. They’d safely retrieved him from Jin Wong’s statue. The mini-Tesla was still in school, broadcasting from their locker.
“Alexander is in big trouble. We need to warn her!” Louise ducked around April the other way.
“Some people want to kidnap her!” Jillian cried as Louise dumped the flattened wardrobe boxes on the floor.
“Hey! Wait!” April cried. “You can’t come in; I have—what?”
“We were at the museum . . . and we heard these people talking about Alexander.” Louise realized that they probably shouldn’t dwell too much on where they heard all this and certainly never mention when. “They said they’re going to kidnap her! We need to warn her, but we don’t know how!”
“Okay, okay, calm down.” April made calming motions with her hands. “Who are ‘they’ and where is she? I thought she was still on Elfhome.”
“We don’t know who ‘they’ are!” the twins cried, and Louise added, “At least not all of them.”
A tall figure in the hallway brought the conversation to a halt. The shirtless man had lipstick smeared across part of his face and his hair sticking out every which way. “April? What’s going on? Whose kids are these?”
They all gaped at him for a moment.
April finally broke the silence by pointing at him. “Stephen! They’re—they’re . . . It’s complicated. Look, I’m really sorry, but this is going to be a while. Can—can we do this another time?”
April herded the man into her bedroom, where the muted conversation continued in awkward and embarrassed starts and stops. Mostly it was April apologizing and Stephen saying that he understood. Since they’d missed dinner, the twins raided April’s fridge for Diet Coke, still-warm Chinese takeout, and three different types of pickles.
April had changed into a tank top and yoga pants when the two adults emerged from the bedroom. There was an awkward good-bye at the door, where both adults seemed hyperaware that the twins were watching closely.
“I feel like I’m in high school again,” Stephen whispered.
“I’m sorry,” April said for tenth time since the twins appeared on her doorstep. “It’s a family emergency.”
“So they’re family?” Stephen asked.
April shot the twins a cryptic look. “Yes, it’s complicated, but they’re family.”
“With family, is it ever anything but complicated?” Stephen hesitated and then kissed April good-bye before allowing her to shove him out the door.
“Call me,” April cried and then slammed shut the door and chained it. She leaned her head against the door for a minute. “I just knew the negative karma was going to bite me in the butt one day. Walk away from one kid and two will come breaking down your door.”
“Sorry,” Louise called.
April pounded her forehead against the door a few times before joining them in the kitchen. “Okay, let’s start at the top. You found out that someone is going to kidnap Alexander. Who?”
Since Louise was the only one who had actually seen and heard the elves, she told the story without explaining where they were when they overheard the conversation. April got out a cold Diet Coke, poured it into a glass, and added rum to it.
“They were just standing out in public, planning this out loud?”
Put that way it did seem unlikely. Sparrow’s movements, though, were highly publicized, as hordes of fans and protesters followed her. If someone came to the Waldorf Astoria, the
sekasha
would have paid more attention to the individuals. The Lost Treasures gave an excuse for the group to gather in relative innocence.
“They were talking in French,” Louise said.
“So how did you understand them?” April asked.
Jillian slurped down the chow mien noodle she’d been fighting with and explained. “We’re fluent in French.”
“And Spanish—but in New York, how could we not be?” Louise felt that confessing to trivial things made up for leaving out the whole museum robbery thing.
“And Low Elvish.” Jillian apparently felt the same way.
“And Hindi and Mandarin.” Louise started to tick off on her fingers the languages they knew.
Jillian waved her chopsticks to negate that claim. “That’s more ‘limited working proficiency’ than fluent.”
“Hindi and Mandarin?” April added more rum to her drink.
“We learned Hindi by watching Bollywood musicals,” Louise said.
“And Mandarin from Chinese historical dramas,” Jillian said. “And a smattering of Korean, for the same reason.”
“But that doesn’t matter,” Louise said. “I was hiding, so they thought they were alone while they planned to kidnap Alexander and kill Windwolf.”
“Whoa! Wait! Kill Windwolf? Holy shit! You said this was Sparrow and Windwolf’s bodyguards!”
“Well, that’s why Sparrow was talking in French. None of the
sekasha
understand it, so even if they overheard her—and they did—they didn’t know what she was planning.”
“Who cares what language they were speaking in?” Jillian cried. “We have to warn Alexander!”
“We can’t.” April took a big swallow of her drink. “At least, not until Shutdown. Are you sure about this?”
“Yes!” both girls cried.
“We can’t call her because we don’t have a phone number for her,” Jillian said. “And we haven’t been able to find a Pittsburgh directory.”
“Oh, I have one,” April said.
“You do?” the twins cried.
April went to her bookcase and pulled out a paper book. “Pittsburgh is completely last century. They do old-fashioned paper directories.”
The twins leapt at her with a cry and snatched the book from her hands. “Bell, Bell, Bell.” They chanted, flipping pages. “Bartley. Bowles. Bruton. Burger. There’s no Bell!”
“Their number might be unlisted.” April got out another Diet Coke.
“Why would anyone do that?” the twins cried. “What’s the point of having a directory if everyone isn’t in it?”
April shrugged and added rum to the new soda. “I don’t know. My folks are in it. They mailed me that copy as a hint to call more often. Maybe the reason Tim Bell’s phone stopped working was because they moved to Earth.”
“No, on the application to CMU, Alexander said she lived on Elfhome.” Louise flipped to the
W
section. “Maybe Orville is listed.”
“Well?” April asked as the twin frowned at the only Wright listed.
“There’s an Oilcan Wright. Who names their kid Oilcan?” Louise stared at the simple listing of name, street address, and phone number. “How are you supposed to cross-reference this?”
Jillian gave a small scream of frustration. “We can’t call him and say ‘If you have a cousin named Alexander, Sparrow is going to try to kidnap her and kill the viceroy.’ What if it isn’t him and we just told a stranger this secret that could get him killed?”
April motioned for her to stay calm. “Are you really, really sure that you understood what they were saying—in French?”
“Qu’est-ce que vous ne comprenez pas dans je parle Français couramment?”
Jillian shouted.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” April said. “Look, there’s nothing we can do today. It’s probably too late for me to get train tickets to Elfhome; normally the seats are booked months in advance. I can try, but we shouldn’t count on it. Usually if I want to go home for Christmas, I have to get the tickets before March. I’ll probably have to drive down a few days before Shutdown and hope I can get through.”
“Couldn’t you fly in?” Louise knew that the airport still operated, but she’d never heard of flights into Pittsburgh. Airports equaled planes, though, didn’t they?
“No. Passenger flights aren’t allowed in the airspace during Shutdown. Everything in and out is either cargo or military planes, and that’s only after dawn. There’s always some residual magic in the zone, and it wreaks havoc on mechanical systems. The risk is too high for passenger flights.”
“They have to let you through, don’t they?” Jillian asked. “You’re a native Pittsburgher!”
April added more rum to her drink. “Yes, but this isn’t driving across the river to New Jersey. This is going to another planet. Elfhome. The world of elves. Different stars. Different moon—well—looks the same, but it’s not the same moon. Totally different sun. Not our world.”
“Yes, but you can drive to it,” Jillian pressed.
“It’s like going to another country.” April took a drink and shuddered slightly. “Canada or Mexico—if they dropped off the face of the planet for thirty days at a time. There’s only four highways still connected to Pittsburgh. A concrete trench and three fences topped with barbwire surround the rest of the area. Even returning residents need a passport, and all vehicles are searched for stowaways. Trucks start to line up two days before Shutdown in special parking lots, and they have first priority for getting in and out. New EIA employees are second-level clearance, and scientists are third. I’ll be last in line.”
“So you might not get in?” Jillian started to cry. Louise struggled not to start, too.
“Oh, oh, don’t do that. Here, have ice cream.” April pulled out several pints of Häagen Dazs, three bowls, and a half dozen spoons.
Louise couldn’t see how ice cream could help, but April did have exotic flavors like Bananas Foster, Caramel Cone, and Midnight Cookies and Cream. The last proved to be fudge and chocolate wafer cookies in chocolate ice cream. The twins were distracted by sampling each of the flavors.
“I have one edge: I’m a native Pittsburgher.” April hunted through the freezer and added Dulce de Leche and Rum Raisin to the selection. “Normally the last hour or so, the only vehicles they let through are the returning residents.”
Louise gasped as she realized that if April went to warn Alexander, she probably would have to stay until the next Shutdown to come back. “What about your work?”
“I might lose my job over this.” April took a big swallow of her Coke and rum and winced. “Oh, that’s strong.”
“I’m sorry,” Louise said.
“It’s okay. It’s a crappy job. I’ve been meaning to look for another.”
“We could call . . . someone,” Jillian said. “There’s Esme’s sister, Lain. She’s in Pittsburgh. She could warn Alexander.”
“I don’t know if Lain knows about Alexander.” April waved her spoon loaded with Bananas Foster. “Esme didn’t want me to tell her family. And phones are very unreliable during Shutdown. All of Pittsburgh tries to call out to do business that one day a month. You basically start dialing at midnight and listen to ‘all connections are busy, please try again later’ for a couple of hours. No, no, don’t cry! I’m going to drive to Pittsburgh!”
“You said you might not get through!” Jillian wailed.
“I can call people while I’m waiting at the border. I won’t have anything better to do. My whole family still lives in Pittsburgh. My mom and dad, my uncle and three cousins—I’ll call them all. They still live just across the river from Old Man Bell. I’ll have one of them go over and warn Alexander and see about maybe getting her to Earth. She can stay with me.”
“Really?”
“It probably would have ruined both our lives if I had tried to keep her when she was a baby. I was stupid young and had a lot of growing up to do. I couldn’t even keep a plant alive. Old Man Bell, he has a world of patience and was ready to make Alexander his entire world. But I always regretted having to let her go.”
If or rather when they found surrogate mothers for the babies, would they be able to let them go? April had done the hard thing because it was better for Alexander. Whatever they chose for the babies, they had to remember to do what was best for them.
“We should go home,” Jillian announced, pushing away her empty bowl.
April snagged her purse from off the floor by the couch. “Okay, I’ll take you home.”
“We can take the train.” Louise wasn’t sure how sober April was.
“What kind of mother would I be if I let you go home on a train alone at this time of night?”
“You’re not our mother,” Jillian pointed out.
“I could have been.” April was completely right there. A fraction of an inch in the right direction and they would have been born eighteen years ago. “Come on.” April paused at the door, wavering. “Remind me to let the car drive itself.”
