Emerald City Dreamer (14 page)

"
Yeshua loved his disciples," he went on. "We see this when he fed thousands of them with only a few loaves and fishes." Maybe he would get through this. Maybe more than that, maybe they'd get a convert!

But as he began telling about the miracles of Yeshua, something changed.

Oh no, not now
.

He felt something like a battery burn on his wrist, the bracelet no longer comforting, but surging with charge. His hands began to shimmer with an unearthly light. Although he knew no one else could see it, he cringed.

If this feeling continued to build, something terrible would happen, something they
would
see. Memories of embarrassing moments pressed through his mind.

Why now?
Things had been going so well.

The crowd had grown a little larger, by five or six people, and more were craning necks as they passed. They were suddenly very interested in what he had to say. So many people were here, watching. He panicked, yet his words and the attention of his audience propelled him forward.

"
He would not let his followers starve. Even in the absence of supplies, he gently found a way to feed them all..."

The clouds broke and a small shaft of sun lit up the square. The glow from his hands intensified, and the students gathered.

No, no no not now
. He wished they would all just go away, or that Elder Noah would say it was time to go home. He wished more than anything that he would fall over dead.

"
Thus the power of His love multiplied the bread, and they were filled with sustenance, loaves and fishes, and also with love and spirit."

He never knew exactly what would happen when this glow came over him. One time, flowers sprung up all around him in mid-December. Another time, the person he was with fell asleep and didn't wake up for two days. The last time, there had been a small explosion after which chocolate chips had rained down on his head.

Whatever happened now, it couldn't be good. Everyone would see him for what he was: a demon, crazy, stupid, ugly, horrible Ezra. The
Wanderers
would kick him out, and he'd be alone again.

His wishes were not coming true. The people were not going away. Elder Noah was not going to take him home, and he did not fall over dead. They all hung on his words, as if he were a prophet.

The clouds spread apart even further, and a beam of noonday sun shown directly down on him. He felt his feet lift off the ground.

Oh no...

He wasn't even sure what he said anymore. Something about what Elder Isaiah said concerning church buildings and how God is everywhere and how you don't need a fancy chapel to worship Him. He spoke about clearings in the woods and more about the love of Yeshua and his miracles. And then strange words he didn't understand, like Wodan and Valhalla. Why was he talking about magic and daydreams? Had Lucifer finally taken him?

And now he rose, like the Devil himself, two feet into the air, then three feet. Light flew from his fingertips in all directions. The crowd gasped, so he knew it wasn't just in his mind. They had seen him for the monster he was.

Words streamed out of him, a mixture of biblical quotes, fairytales, and babble. Was he speaking in tongues? Or was he speaking in English and hearing himself in tongues? His message now focused on the power of love and the pursuit of beauty. And he told a strange story about a little girl and her mother giving grace to a poor old man in the forest. He barely heard it. The words just poured forth like a river through a broken dam.

The crowd was in thrall. He could see their faces, gaping, as if what he said made sense. As if they wanted to hear what he had to say. He could feel their love. They loved... him? They wanted more, so he gave it to them.

And then he got one of his three wishes. He didn't exactly die, but he felt himself falling, and the world disappeared.

SANDY RUBBED HER EYES and adjusted her glasses re-read the logs from her latest experiments. Her training was in history, not experimental science, but the nightmares and memories drove her on. The question was, how do you design a valve ward that let the glamour out, while keeping the faerie in?

She shoved aside the notebook and swirled Lonach, the good stuff, listening to the ice clink against the sides of the glass. She took a sip and let the warm glow seep through her limbs.

Even though she felt at home in her office, she found it harder and harder to concentrate. Her body felt distant, disconnected, her mind hovering, unable to focus on the simplest tasks. The Scotch helped. It was both grounding and numbing at the same time.

Hollis had emailed her pictures, and she pulled them up on her laptop again. She'd been alternating between both problems all morning. Her screen needed dusting but the red building showed clearly enough behind the specks of lint.

Jina had been busy this week, hoping to a band rehearsal, some kind of social event last night in Pioneer Square, and then to a couple of bars on Broadway. Between the two friends, Jina had always been the extrovert, never able to sit still for three seconds.

Hollis had caught sight of their target last night, following Jina through Pioneer Square. Then lost sight of him. Then caught up to him again when Jina came back up to the Hill, to a bar close by. If Sandy knew a faerie was following her, she never would have left the house in the first place, but Jina had been all over before finally coming home.

And Scarf had followed her here.

From here, Hollis had shadowed him back to this red structure, speckled with graffiti, on the south end of the neighborhood. Sandy flipped through a few more images until she stopped on a spray-painted outline of a comical face.

That was his door. The door to his lair.

It was an elf door, Sandy knew. She wasn't sure how to open it, but that would surely be no obstacle. She had him. She knew where he lived, and all they had to do was wait outside until he showed up.

But Hollis had seen other things, too. He'd seen Scarf yelling at a bunch of unseen nykks. He'd seen him start a bar fight outside Cuffs. He'd seen him flip off a police officer. Clearly, this Scarf wasn't afraid of anybody.

This was why she'd started the Ordo. She had him. They could do this.

But for some reason, she couldn't convince herself to take the first step...

She tried to imagine the inside of his lair. What if he overpowered them with magic they didn't understand? What if he grabbed Gretel or Jina or... or herself... and dragged her through that elf door, forever?

Another sip of Lonach would snuff out these worries, give her the courage she needed. And then she'd--

A knock sounded on the door, insistent and repetitive. Her hand jerked, flinging the glass away from her as if it were filled with crickets. For a moment, she thought it was. Then reality returned, and she grabbed a tissue to mop up what had sloshed onto her desk.

The knock repeated, persistent and loud, until she remembered what had startled her. "Come in," she said, her voice quavering.

Gretel burst through the door. "Sandy, there is turbulence. A strong flavor of fae magic is coming from north of here. Wild fae magic."

Sandy jumped up. This sort of thing didn't happen very often. Gretel had explained her experiences and sensations before. Sandy had grilled her at length and recorded her every word. It meant a faerie had released a tremendous amount of glamour. That it was wild indicated the faerie didn't know how to use glamour yet. At least, according to Gretel. The books didn't always agree with Gretel, and neither fully matched her own experience.

"
Can you still feel it?"

"
Yes. We must hurry; it is so strong I do not expect it to last."

"
Let's go." Sandy ran for the garage, grabbing her jacket and keys on the way. Gretel followed and got in on the passenger side of the white Lexus sedan.

"
North you said?"

"
Ja
."

"
How far?"

"
Not too far. Probably across the water. This break in the weather - it is his doing."

It had been raining all day; now the sky only made idle attempts to spit an occasional droplet at the windshield.

Sandy chose the University Bridge rather than the freeway, which would give her the most flexibility. The bridge was a mile from her house, and at this time of day there wasn't much traffic. In minutes she reached mid-span. The freeway bridge towered above her to the left.

"
Am I still headed the right way?"

"
Yes," Gretel answered. "We're close, but it has started to fade."

Sandy swore, and it suddenly started raining again, hard. She flipped on her windshield wipers and they squeaked across the glass. "The University?"

"
Possibly. Take a right here. Yes, the University or someplace nearby."

Gretel led them down 41st, then continued over a winding side street that ran through campus. Suddenly Gretel pointed south. "There."

Sandy jerked the wheel to the right; instead of parking lots, she found
No Parking
signs. She pulled to the side of the road in a roundabout, close enough to the edge to be out of the way. If it came to it, she could afford to pay any fines. As long as they didn't get towed.

"
It is almost gone," Gretel said, shoving her door open.

"
We'll find it."

They ran down the wide brick sidewalk which dumped them out into Red Square. Sandy started to ask Gretel which way. She didn't need to finish. At the edge of the square, a small crowd had gathered under the broken obelisk statue. It wasn't far. She'd chosen a good parking spot.

The rain poured down again. A group of drenched students huddled around two figures dressed in old fashioned clothing. Were they some kind of Ren Faire people? Amish? One lay in a heap, unconscious. The other knelt, fending off the crowd.

"
No medical help!" the man shouted, waving off concerned onlookers. "Yeshua will keep him safe. No doctors, please!"

Gretel took a step back and put her hand over her mouth.

"
What is it?"

"
The boy," she breathed, "the one on the ground. He is one of them."

"
It's okay, Gret. He can't hurt you. Let me take care of this." Sandy barged forward and knelt next to the strange pair. The boy looked so fragile, so helpless. So unlike Scarf. "What's going on?" she asked them.

"
No doctors," the old man replied. "His body will not be corrupted with your medicines."

"
Don't worry, I'm not a doctor. But I'm sure a doctor is on the way. What happened?"

"
No... He can't go to the hospital. That is man's way."

Sandy couldn't believe her luck. If she played this right, she'd have a specimen. An
easy
specimen.

"
I can get him out of here before an ambulance arrives," she said. "I have a car. Where do you want me to take him?"

"
No doctors, just take us home?"

She fought back a smile. "Wherever you want."

The man lifted the boy in his arms. "Which way?"

Sandy pushed her way back through the crowd. "Move aside!" she shouted. "Make way!"

No one questioned her. Sandy found that most groups wanted a leader. They were easy to order around. The crowd opened up, and they rushed to her car. Talk about a perfect parking spot.

It looked like the man was planning to come with them. Of course he would. She couldn't easily take this kid home with this guy in tow. She had to get rid of him.

They also had a few followers from the crowd. They had serene looks on their faces, blissed out, enthralled. They wanted to touch the boy, like some kind of goddamned cultists. Had this beast been using some kind of entrancement magic on them? They swarmed around the car like zombies, reaching out, trying to touch them.

"
Everyone!" Sandy exclaimed. She made herself sound as confident and commanding as she felt. "Go back to class."

The old man seemed a little uncomfortable around the car, yet he put the boy in the backseat. One of the worshippers said, "Don't go!" Someone else said, "We want to hear more. Isn't that why you came here, to teach us?"