Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free (49 page)

Silene sat, her back against the yarn-wrapped trunk of her cedar tree, shaded from the late afternoon sun and watching the river flow by. Sal sat cross-legged downriver a little ways, knitting with yarn from his satchel. Challa stood thigh-deep in the river near Sal, snagging passing fish and tossing them to the shore.

I knelt beside Silene. “I want you to know, whether I win or lose this duel, your clan will be safe.”

“And leaves are green, today,” Silene said. She gave me a doubtful look. “You must be a good dancer to have made such a challenge?”

“I'm good enough,” I said defensively.

“As you say,” Silene said. “I shall have my clan ready should the Shadows betray the peace of the duel.” She closed her eyes as if nodding off while she spoke. She looked thin, exhausted.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I healed all those I could, until I collapsed. But I am recovering slowly.” She placed a hand on her tree. “And with the alchemist's help, hopefully more of our clan will be able to stand in time to fight should the Shadows attack.”

“I appreciate you giving her a chance,” I said. “I know alchemists are not your favorite people.”

Silene shrugged, watching Challa. Whenever Challa tossed a fish to shore, Silene's eyes followed its arc, then flicked over to Sal before quickly looking back to Challa. “Your friend is here to help. And Flidais said she sensed your friend is also … damaged.”

“You do seem to attract those in need of healing,” I said. “Challa. Sal.”

“Sal?” she asked, looking up to me.

“Yeah. Not everyone affected by the mana drug are the ones addicted to it,” I said. “His sister was used by the Arcanites, and died because of it. I get the impression he spent pretty much his entire life just trying to keep his sister out of trouble, taking care of her, and in the end he couldn't save her. He's still hurting from that.”

Silene watched Sal knitting for a minute. “He should be seeking the comfort of his kin and kind.”

“What he's seeking is a partner, someone who will judge him by his heart, not his physical appearance. Someone he can trust to return his love, and not just take it.”

Silene looked back out at the river. “Perhaps he and Challa will be good for each other, then.”

I looked at Challa. “I'm sure they could help each other,” I said. “But I don't think they'd love each other, not as mates. Seems to me that Challa is still trying to figure out who she is. She doesn't want or need a partner right now confusing that. And I don't think Sal's ever had an easy time with the other Seeahtik, because of his feet.”

“In time then,” Silene said.

Merlin's balls!
I thought to Alynon.
Are all brightbloods this stubborn?

*Dryads live long lives,* Alynon replied. *For Aalbrights, sometimes long life means wisdom, and sometimes that just means you get really good at putting things off, since you'll always have more time. Perhaps 'tis true for dryads as well.*

I don't think this is procrastination. I think it is fear.

*Sometimes they are the same.*

I sighed. “It seems a shame if Sal had to just hold onto all that love he's got, waiting for a future that may never happen.” I looked at my Pac-Man watch. “Shoot, I need to go practice before it is too late.” I straightened.

“I wish you luck. Whatever aid we can give, just ask Flidais.”

“Thanks. And good luck to you, too.” I looked from her to Sal.

I walked over to the giant bare-skinned sasquatch, hunched over his pile of cedar threads. “Hey big guy,” I said, stealing a glance back at Silene. She quickly looked away, but not quickly enough. “So I take it you haven't told Silene you like her yet?”

He lowered his head over his knitting, but I could see his blush nonetheless. “Herself is not looking for love.”

“Everyone wants love,” I told him.

He shrugged. “Herself keeps pushing Challa at I.”

“Yeah, well, that's because she's being as dumb as you,” I replied.

Sal looked up at me and growled. I shrugged. “Hey, you asked me to find you your true love. Well, I'm pretty sure Silene is the one. But you're not going to find out unless you take a chance and tell her you like her.”

“I protect herself's heart tree, give Iself's own fur. I give herself brightlily. Herself still push Challa at I.”

“What can I say, Sal. Never underestimate a person's ability to believe they're not good enough, or attractive enough, or interesting enough, to be loved.”

Sal knitted in silence a minute, then said, “Is youself ready for the duel of dancing?”

“I think so. I just need to go loosen up.”

“Youself a great dancer?” Sal asked, giving me the skeptical up and down.

Come on! Did I really look that uncoordinated or uncool? “I've got some moves,” I said, perhaps a bit angrily.

“Is maybe goodsmart that youself go practice?” he suggested.

I sighed. “Yep. Okay. Fine. Take care, Sal. And good luck.”

I whistled for the fairy, and had her lead me to a small glade in the forest that was nice and secluded.

Flidais watched as I practiced my dancing. She, at least, seemed to appreciate my moves. We chatted as I consumed a Subway Veggie, several Munch bars, and a couple bottles of Mountain Dew for fuel, and took frequent stretch breaks. It turned out Flidais was a distant cousin of the fairy whose wake my family was hosting. I promised her I would take special care with her cousin's body, and winced as I remembered removing the wings for donation.

Don Faun entered the glade several hours later. “The clans are gathered, the circle is set. I hope you are ready.”

I grabbed my boom box. “Let's boogey!”

 

33

Rhythm Is Gonna Get You

Elwha Dam RV Park was a magicals-friendly campsite near the Elwha path trailhead, where a large Greenman totem signaled the site as neutral territory. Near an ancient metal playground set was a small field where the Shadows and Silver brightbloods had gathered, two half circles facing each other. It was not an even match. The Shadows still had greater numbers, and the Silver side had many brightbloods obviously still recovering from illness or injury. But the Silvers had their home territory at their back.

Barry waited in the center of the circle, on a field of trampled grass, wearing his designer-distressed jeans and a faded brown flannel shirt that looked custom fit. He spotted me, and I couldn't wait to wipe that cocky grin off his face, with his perpetual five-day growth, and artfully messy blond hair that probably took an hour and a crapload of mousse to shape into that “I don't care how I look, I just look good” look, and—

I entered the circle with my boom box. Willem the redcap, Georgio Waerjerk, Minerva, they were all there leading the Shadows side. As was Kaminari, wearing a dress as shimmery black as her pigtails. She glared with frightening intensity at me as she gripped her gossamer jump rope in two white-knuckled fists.

Silene and Sal stood front and center for the Silver. Silene wore what looked like a green bodysuit covered in thorns. Sal had found a red plaid jacket just large enough to wear, at least once the sleeves had been ripped off. Between that, his fur kilt-like fringe, and combat boots, he looked like some mad Scottish giant.

And beside them stood Pete and Vee.

“What—you guys shouldn't be here!” I said, setting my boom box down beside them. Neither stood as tall as Sal, but still they were a head taller than most gathered there. Both wore jeans and leather jackets, and held hands. I would have found them adorable if we weren't surrounded by brightbloods on the verge of war.

“You can't make me go,” Pete said, putting on his stubborn scowl.

Vee let go of his hand and slipped her arm around his waist. “What Petey means is, you shouldn't face this alone. And this affects both of us.” She blinked and looked at the space beside her. “Yes, sorry, all of us.” She looked back at me. “We're here, and we're staying. Deal with it.”

I sighed, but it was as much from relief as resignation. “It
is
nice to have you here,” I said. “Thank you. Wait. You didn't tell Dawn, did you?”

“No,” Pete said, though he didn't sound happy about it.

“Okay, good. I don't want her distracted from her big show.” I pointed down at the boom box. “Push play when I give the signal?” I asked Pete.

He nodded. “Good luck, Brother.” Then he grabbed me in a sudden hug that felt like he was trying to squeeze the juice out of me. He let me go, and I almost fell backward.

“Uh, thanks, Brother.”

Silene held out her hand, palm out. “Blessings of the Bright on you, Gramaraye.”

“Thanks,” I said. I fetched the two Mountain Dew bottles out of the duffel, the contents replaced with truth potion. “Okay. Guess it's time to boogie.”

I turned, and crossed the grass to face Barry.

“Clay couldn't make it?” I asked, glancing past him at the gathered Shadows brightblood.

Barry shrugged, and announced loudly, “The local Archon for the Forest of Shadows regrets he could not attend, but it would be inappropriate for him to be directly involved in such an affair.” He leaned in a bit, and said quietly, “I think it's just to cover his ass if things go sideways, dig?”

I glanced past him.

“Uh, if Clay's not here to control Kaminari, what's to keep her from throwing one of her temper tantrums?”

“Excellent question. If you somehow win, I guess nothing.”

I frowned. “Are you telling me to throw the contest?”

“Naw. I wouldn't do that, brah! I'm just psyching you out. Papa Clay gave me a sleep potion to use on her if she goes all Veruca Salt again.”

“Okay then. Did you bring the other potions?”

“Minerva's got 'em.”

We each had brought two truth potions in matching sixteen-ounce Mountain Dew bottles. After checking the bottles for marks magical or otherwise, we mixed them up randomly, and handed them out to two of the Shadows brightblood chosen by Barry, and two of the Silver brightblood chosen by Silene.

“Okay,” Minerva called out, her eyes glinting as they went wolf-yellow. “The four judges will drink the potions. Then the two champions shall dance for the length of a song. When the song ends, the judges shall pick which champion they felt was the greater dancer. If there is a tie, they will dance for another song, and shall continue to do so until a winner is chosen. The first dancer to win a majority of votes will be the victor. The one who does not shall lose his head. Any protests or questions?”

The gathered brightbloods shifted uneasily, but nobody spoke out.

“Ready to be schooled?” Barry asked.

“Go for it,” I said in my best Stallone. I looked at Pete, and gave him the nod.

Pete pushed play.

There hadn't been much to look forward to at Port Townsend High except for the dances, at least in my day. And in one of the better periods of our relationship, Mort had convinced me to join him in his love of break dancing, determined that we would be the next Boogaloo Shrimp and Shabba-Doo. But more importantly, I had my mother's love of dance in my blood.

Salt-N-Pepa's “Push It” began playing, and I let the music flow through me, move me. My head shook to the beat, my arms pumped, I began running in place, like a maniac, a maniac, exploding out of the gate.

I spun away, throwing my arms out to my sides, faintly aware of Barry doing some kind of “sexy dance” undulation as I left him behind.

I stopped, pulled into myself, then exploded outward with my arms, and went into animal clawing motions dancing side to side, as though an animal spirit had burst out from within me and wanted to get down tonight.

Yeah yeah yeah. Mock if you want, but here's the thing. I wasn't dancing in a club trying to look good for the ladies, nor applying to a prestigious dance studio. I was dancing for a bunch of brightbloods, most of whom had animal or nature spirits of some kind within them. They were driven by instinct, by feeling, much more than the average human.

I danced for
them,
like a mill-town boy in a fight for his life.

I dance-skipped around the clearing, clawing at the air to the rhythm of the music. I leap-dove forward, rolling up onto my feet and jumping, pumping my fist into the air. I fight-danced.

I howled.

And the crowd loved it. I could tell the energy was with me, the Silver brightbloods whooping and shouting, the Shadows more watching me than Barry and nodding their heads despite themselves, lost in the emotion and energy of it all.

As I passed Silene, I saw her starting to move to the music as well, but she caught herself, her hand going to her chest.

I spun, round and round, and round again. And found myself facing Barry.

We squared off.

I gave him my best pop and lock. I started with a chest pop, looking down in feigned surprise as my heart seemed to be bursting out of my chest, and then moved into some waving, moving my body through imaginary hoops. I ended with some tutting, moving my hands through a rapid series of puzzle-like formations, before giving Barry the “in your face.”

Barry smiled, and went into some kind of pop and lock that seemed to defy physics.

*Dubstep,* Alynon said. *Welcome to two thousand eleven.*

The crowd soon cheered more loudly for Barry than me. And I couldn't blame them. The way he leaned and floated and locked as he moved, it was impressive. Perhaps it was his brightblood strength that allowed him such feats, but even so, what he did with that strength was pretty frakking cool, even I had to admit.

I tried to take it back, to regain the crowd. I spun away from Barry, ran around the perimeter, pumping my fist in the air, spinning, whooping, giving the occasional jump kick, but they had seen that, and now my raw emotion was being outshone by Barry's technical mastery.