Valiant (6 page)

“Don’t eat or drink anything or you’ll be more fucked than you already are,” Dave whispered to Val as he followed the woman into another room, leaving his salvaged box of romance novels on the floor. Val scowled and walked over to a display case. Inside the glass door was a large, solid chunk of something like obsidian. Beside it were some other things, equally odd. A bit of bark, a broken stick, a sharp burr in the shape of a pinecone, each fold razor sharp.

A few moments later, Sketchy Dave and the goat-footed woman returned. She was smiling. Val tried to stare at her without catching her eye. If someone had asked Val what she would do if she saw some supernatural creature, she wouldn’t have figured she’d do nothing at all. She felt unable to be sure of what she was seeing, unable to decide if there really was a monster right in front of her. As they walked out of the apartment, Val could hear her blood thundering in her head to the speeding beat of her heart.

“I told you to fucking stay over there,” Sketchy Dave growled, gesturing across the street, toward the fountain.

Val was too flustered to be angry. “I saw something—a statue—moving.” She pointed upward, to the top of the building and the almost-night sky but she was incoherent. “And then I came over and…what is she?”

“Fuck!” Dave punched the stone wall, his knuckles coming away raw and scraped. “Fuck!
Fuck!
” He walked away, head hunched as though he were leaning into a strong wind.

Val caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm. “Tell me,” she demanded, her grip tightening. He tried to jerk away from her, but he couldn’t. She was stronger.

He looked at her strangely, like he was reevaluating them both. “You didn’t see anything. There was nothing to see.”

Val stared at him. “And what would Lolli say? A faerie, right? Except faeries don’t fucking exist!”

He started to laugh. She dropped his arm and shoved him hard. The box of novels fell, scattering paperbacks into the road.

He looked down at them and then back at her. “Fucking bitch,” he said and spat on the ground.

All the rage and bewilderment of the last day boiled up in her. Her hands balled into fists. She wanted to hit something.

Dave bent down to pick up the cardboard box and replaced the fallen books. “You’re lucky you’re a girl,” he muttered.

We must not look at goblin men,

We must not buy their fruits:

Who knows upon what soil they fed

Their hungry thirsty roots?

—C
HRISTINA
R
OSSETTI
, “G
OBLIN
M
ARKET
”

On the train ride back, Val sat in a plastic seat far from Dave, leaned her head back against a Plexiglas-covered map of the subway, and wondered how a person could have hooves. She’d seen shadows move on their own and bottles of brown sand that had something to do with make-believe gossip about murdered tree people from weird, Upper West Side ladies. What she did know was that she didn’t want to be blind and dumb, the kind of girl that didn’t notice that her mom and boyfriend were having sex until she saw it with her own eyes. She wanted to know the truth.

When Val got close to the concrete park on Leonard Street she saw Luis sitting on a ledge, drinking something out of a blue glass bottle. A bird-boned girl with mismatched sneakers and a swollen belly sat beside him, trembling fingers holding a cigarette. As Val got closer, she could see sores on the new girl’s ankles, leaking pus. The streets were nearly deserted, the only person close by a security guard across the street who walked out to the curb every now and then before she disappeared into the building.

“Why are you still around?” Luis asked, glancing up at her. She was unnerved by the stare from his cloudy eye.

“Just tell me where Lolli is and I won’t be,” said Val.

Luis gestured with his chin to the grate in the ground as Dave walked up to them both.

The girl dropped her cigarette and then reached for it, her fingers grazing the hot end without her seeming to notice as she fumbled to put it back in her mouth.

“What did you do?” Luis asked Dave, his jaw tightening. “What happened?”

Dave looked at the parked cars that lined the street. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Luis closed his eyes. “You are such a fucking idiot.”

Dave said something else, but Val had already started walking toward the service entrance, the grate that she and Dave had slid out of that afternoon. She got down on her hands and knees, pulled up the unhinged end of the metal bars, and lowered herself onto the steps.

“Lolli?” she called into the darkness.

“Over here,” came the drowsy reply.

Val waded across the mattresses and blankets to where she’d slept the night before. Her backpack wasn’t where she’d left it. She kicked aside some of the dirty clothes on the platform. Nothing. “Where’s my bag?”

“You trust a bunch of bums with your stuff, I guess you get what you get.” Lolli laughed and held up the knapsack. “It’s here. Chill.”

Val unzipped her pack. All her stuff was inside, the razor still choked with her hair, the thirteen dollars still folded up in her wallet right beside her train ticket. Even her gum was still there. “Sorry,” Val said and sat down.

“Don’t trust us?” Lolli grinned.

“Look, I saw something and I don’t know what it was and I’m done getting fucked with.”

Lolli sat up, hugging her legs to her chest, eyes wide and smile stretching even wider. “You saw one of them!”

The image of the goat-footed woman moved uneasily behind Val’s eyes. “I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t think it was a faerie.”

“So what do you think it was?”

“I don’t know. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me.” Val sat down on an overturned wood tangelo box. It made a cracking sound, but supported her weight. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Believe what you can handle believing.”

“But, I mean—faeries? Like ‘clap if you believe in faeries’?”

Lolli snorted. “You saw one. You tell me.”

“I did tell you. I told you I don’t know what I saw. A woman with goat feet? You shooting something weird in your arm? Paper that dances around? Is that supposed to add up?”

Lolli scowled.

“How do you
know
it’s real?” Val demanded.

“The troll tunnel,” Lolli said. “You won’t be able to explain that away.”

“Troll?”

“Luis made a deal with him. It was when Dave and their mom got shot. Their mother was dead when the ambulance came, but Dave was in the hospital for a while. Luis promised the troll he would serve him for a year if he saved Dave’s life.”

“That’s who Dave was doing the delivery for?” Val asked.

“He took you on one of those?” Lolli blew out a breath that might have been a laugh. “Wow, he really is the worst spy in the world.”

“What is the big deal about telling me? Why does Luis care what I know? Like you said to Dave, no one is going to believe me.”

“Luis says none of us are supposed to know, not even Dave.
They
’d be mad, he says. But since he started doing deliveries for Ravus, some of the other faeries have him doing errands for them. Dave does some of the troll’s jobs.”

“My friend Ruth used to make up things. She said she had a boyfriend named Zachary that lived in England. She showed me letters full of angsty poetry. Basically, the truth was that Ruth wrote herself letters, printed them out, and lied about it. I know all about liars,” Val said. “It’s not like I don’t believe what you’re saying, but what if Luis is lying to you?”

“What if he is?” asked Lolli.

Val felt a burst of anger, the worse because it was directionless. “Whatever. Where’s the troll tunnel? We’ll find out for ourselves.”

“I know the way,” Lolli said. “I followed Luis to the entrance.”

“But you didn’t go inside?” Val stood up.

“No.” Lolli stood, too, dusting off her skirt. “I didn’t want to go alone and Dave wouldn’t come with me.”

“What do you think a troll is?” Val asked as Lolli scrounged through the cloth and bags on the platform. Val thought of the story of the three goats, thought of the game
WarCraft
and the little green trolls that carried axes and said, “Wanna buy a cigar?” and “Say hello to my little friend” when you clicked on them enough times. None of that seemed real, but the world would certainly be cooler with something so unreal in it.

“Got it,” Lolli said, holding up a flashlight that gave off a dim and inconstant glow. “This isn’t going to last.”

Val jumped off onto the track level. “We’ll be quick.”

With a sigh, Lolli climbed down after her.

As they walked through the subway tunnel, the failing flashlight washed the black walls amber, highlighting the soot and the miles of electrical cording that threaded through the tunnel. It was like moving through the veins of the city.

They passed a live platform, where people waited for a train. Lolli waved to them as they stared, but Val reached down and picked up the discarded batteries of a dozen CD players. As they moved on, she tried each battery in turn, until she found two that strengthened the beam of the flashlight.

Now it lit piles of garbage, catching the green reflection of rat eyes and the moving walls of roaches that throve in the heat and the dark. Val heard a thin whistle.

“Train,” Val yelled, pushing Lolli against the gap in the wall, a shallow crevice thick with grime. Dust gusted through the air a moment before the train barreled past on another track. Lolli cackled and pressed her face close to Val’s.

“One fine day in the middle of the night,” she intoned. “Two dead boys got up to fight.”

“Stop it,” Val said, pulling away.

“Back to back they faced each other, pulled out their swords and shot one another. The deaf cop on the beat heard the noise and came and shot the two dead boys.” Lolli laughed. “What? It’s a rhyme my mother used to tell me. You never heard it before?”

“It’s creepy as shit.”

Val’s knees were shaky as they resumed walking through the endless twisting tunnels. Finally, Lolli pointed to an opening that looked as if it had been bashed through the cement blocks. “Through there,” she said.

Val took a step, but Lolli made a noise. “Val,” she started, but she didn’t continue.

“If you’re scared, you can wait here. I’ll go in and come right back out.”

“I’m not
scared,
” Lolli said.

“Okay.” Val stepped through the rough concrete doorway.

There was a corridor, murky with water, with calcium deposits hanging down in brittle, chalky stalactites. She took a few more steps, cold water soaking her sneakers and the hem of her jeans. The light from the flashlight lit torn, ragged strips of plastic sheeting directly ahead of her. They shifted with the slight wind, like gauzy draperies or ghosts. The movement was unnerving. Splashing along, she ducked through the plastic and into a large chamber choked with roots. They dangled everywhere, long feathery tendrils dragging in the deeper water, thick root trunks cracking through the concrete ceiling to thin and spread. But the strangest part was that fruit hung from them as from branches. Pale globes grew from the hairy coils, warmed by no sun and fed by no soil. Val walked closer. The skin of each was milky and translucent, showing a rose blush beneath it, as though their centers might be red.

Lolli touched one. “They’re warm,” she said.

It was then that Val noticed rusted stairs, their railing wrapped with sodden cloth.

She hesitated at the bottom of them. Glancing at the inverted tree again, she tried to tell herself that it was just weird, not supernatural. It didn’t matter. It was too late to turn back.

Val started up the steps. Each one echoed and she could see a diffuse light. As trains rumbled above them, a thin, powdery dust fell like rain, catching and streaking the weeping walls. The girls spiraled up, higher and higher until they came to a large casement window shrouded by old blankets hung with nails. Val leaned over the railing and pushed aside the cloth. She was surprised to see a basketball court, apartment buildings, the highway, and the river beyond, sparkling like a necklace of lights. She was inside the Manhattan Bridge.

She kept walking, finally coming to a large open room with pipes and thick cords running along the ceiling and heavy wooden ladders along both sides of the wall. It looked as if it was meant for maintenance workers. Books were piled up on the makeshift shelves and in dusty stacks on the floor. Old volumes, tattered and worn. A sheet of plywood rested atop several dozen cinderblocks near the doorway, creating a makeshift desk. Jam jars lined one edge, and resting against it was a sword that looked as though it was made of glass.

Val took a step closer, reaching out her hand, when something fell on her. It was cold and formless, like a heavy wet blanket, and it stretched to cover her. It blocked out her sight and choked her. She threw up her hands, clawing at the slightly damp stuff, feeling it give under her sharp, short nails. Dimly, she could hear Lolli shrieking as if from very far away. Spots started to form in front of Val’s eyes and she reached blindly for the sword. Her hand slid over the blade, cutting her fingers shallowly, but letting her blindly find the hilt.

She braced and swung at her own shoulder. The thing slipped from her, and for a dizzying moment she could breathe again. Hefting the sword of glass as much as she could like a lacrosse stick, she chopped at the white, boneless thing that rippled toward her, its stretched face and flat features making it appear like a pallid, fleshy paper doll. It writhed on the ground and went limp.

Val’s hands shook. She tried to still them, but they wouldn’t stop trembling, even when she clenched them into fists and dug her fingernails into the heels of her hands.

“What was that thing?” Lolli asked.

Val shook her head. “How the fuck would I know?”

“We should be quick.” Lolli walked over to the desk and dumped several jars into her bag.

“What are you doing?” Val asked. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay, okay,” Lolli said, rummaging through some bottles. “I’m coming.”

Herbs were bound into bundles in one of the jam jars. Another was full of dead wasps, but a third was filled with what looked like knots of red licorice shoelaces. Some had labels on their lids: chokecherry, hyssop, wormwood, poppy. At the center of the plywood was a marble cutting board with spiky green balls waiting to be chopped by the tin half-moon of a knife that rested beside them.

On the wall were a series of pinned objects—a candy wrapper, a gray wad of chewing gum, the burned-out stub of a cigarette. Hanging in front of each was a magnifying glass, enlarging not only the items but also the handwritten notes surrounding each. “Breath,” read one. “Love,” read another.

Lolli gasped sharply. Val spun around without thinking, lifting the sword automatically. Someone loomed in the doorway, tall and lean as a basketball player, bending to duck under the doorframe. As he straightened up, lank hair, black as ink, framed the grayish-green skin of his face. Two undershot incisors jutted from his jaw, their tips sinking into the soft flesh of his upper lip. His eyes went wide with something that might have been fear or even fury, but she found herself transfixed by the way the black irises were dusted around the edges with gold, like the eyes of a frog.

“Well.” The troll’s voice was a deep growl. “What have we here? A pair of filthy street girls.” He took two steps toward Val and she stumbled backward, tripping over her own feet, her mind filled only with panic.

With one booted foot, the troll nudged the boneless thing. “I see you’ve gotten past my guardian. How unlikely.” He wore a buttoned black coat that covered him from neck to calf, with black trousers underneath that seemed to emphasize the shock of green at the frayed cuffs and nape where cloth met flesh. His skin was the same horrible color that you might find underneath a band of copper you’d worn for too long. “And you’ve helped yourself to something else of mine as well.”