CHAPTER FOUR
BEEP! BEEP!
I PLOWED TO an astonished stop. Our porch light shone thinly as the old bulb toiled valiantly though it was due to burn out any day now, and I wondered if I looked at a mirage. True, mirages were generally found in the desert and involved people dying without water and seeing things, but I could have been imagining this red, shiny, ancient Corolla . . . couldn’t I? After all, I’d seen Joanna pop in and out of a lamppost not two blocks from here.
And it had a suspicious resemblance to a car I’d noticed about and around Professor Brandard’s house before it had been hauled away and disappeared when he’d been a regular customer on my meals route. Before the burning of nearly everything else he owned. So, if the past owner had been the professor, it stood to reason the current owner would likely be Brian. He didn’t have a license yet; in fact, he had little in the way of authentic ID except a passport we’d found in a safe deposit box that had assumed his picture the moment he held it and opened it up. I was highly dubious a magical passport would give him the skill or right to drive. Still, here sat the car. I was even more dubious the impound yard would have sent it with a saucy bow crowning the hood. I scarcely dared to breathe as I crossed the yard to our driveway and stood next to the vehicle, which had been waxed and polished within a micron of its little metallic hide.
Cupping my hands around my disbelieving eyes, I leaned to the window and caught the odometer: 32,306 miles. Practically brand new. I stepped back and kicked a tire. Lots of tread on those babies, and plump with air. I would have popped the hood, too, but that entered the realm of the ridiculous as I had no idea what to do with a car engine beyond adding water and oil to the appropriate places. Oh, and I have a good idea where the battery sits, too. Beyond that, though . . .
The porch light flickered as the front door clanged open and multiple figures ran onto the porch, crying, “Surprise!” They surrounded me, and we jumped up and down in a group hug, with Mom saying, “Isn’t it great?! It’s yours, all yours. I am paying half the insurance, the other half is your job, and Carter got it from the impound, and Brian paid the fees, and everyone contributed to getting it tuned up and polished . . . do you like it?”
“What’s not to like!” I disentangled myself and hugged the car a moment. “But, Brian, are you sure?”
“It couldn’t be in worthier hands.” He smiled. “You’ll be needing it.”
That held an ominous echo and put a slight chill in my warm and fuzzy happiness. I pushed it away. “Thank you, guys! This is awesome.”
Carter stood back, not indulging in the hug, but allowing himself a crooked grin, and he tossed me the keys. I immediately opened the door and slid in. The smell of new leather hit me. How did they manage that when the professor had been smoking either his pipe or cigar in here for the better part of ten years? Obviously, magic had its good points. If we couldn’t get him restored, maybe we could go into the car detailing business, getting rid of tobacco smoke, and baby sour spit up, and dog accidents.
I popped the trunk and hopped out to see it.
Nice and clean, except for a small canvas duffel. I opened the flaps to see a baker’s dozen of Steptoe’s famous flash-bangs waiting inside. Ammo! “Fully equipped, too!”
“A distinct advantage,” Brian noted, “unless you get rear-ended, and they go off. In that case, well, that’s why you have insurance.”
My face hurt from smiling so wide. “Wow.” I closed the trunk (carefully) and went to retrieve my bow. “This is getting hung on my bedroom wall.”
Mom told me, “We’ve cake and ice cream waiting.”
“Where’s Steptoe?”
“He delivered his duffel and said he had a spot of business to take care of.”
“Oh. Well, he’s already wished me a happy birthday. We’ll save him cake.”
Mom’s smile wavered. “I had trouble convincing him of our good intentions. He wanted to take a piece with him, to be sure.”
“That cad!” I laughed at Mom’s expression and locked an arm with her as we walked back to the house. “What’s insurance going to run?”
“Not much, actually. We can handle it.”
“That’s good.” I hugged her. “This is absolutely the best. You know how much I wanted a car.”
“I know. I wanted to get you one sooner, but two cars in the family seemed expensive. The university has been nagging me to get my paper finished. The dean has been dangling a full-time job in front of me, but only if I get my PhD finished, and until then, well, money is tight.” Her expression thinned out, and I got the impression she hid her worry from me.
I knew she wasn’t nearly as close to that goal as she needed to be. “You can go to that writing boot camp they hold.”
“I can, and should, I know. It’s the time, honey. I just never seem to have enough time.”
“Well, now I can drive myself places and do the grocery shopping and banking.”
“You have college to think about.”
“Right. I’m sure I said ‘go to classes’ in there somewhere.”
She hugged my shoulders. “We’ll see,” she said, sighing a bit as we entered the kitchen and then she stopped cold. “He didn’t!”
The beautiful cake, white-frosted with chocolate underneath, stood on its platter, with a large piece clearly missing.
“It looks like he did,” Carter said as he followed us in.
“This is absolutely—I told him to trust me—we wouldn’t forget him—and look what he does!” She marched to the counter in outrage and pulled out her cake knife, gripping it with white knuckles as if she would hack up Simon Steptoe if he dared make an appearance. Mom inhaled deeply. “We’ll just have to make do with candles on what’s left.”
It sat as a fairly ginormous cake, as cakes went, and I suspected we’d all have more cake than we could eat, even with the trespass. She put the cake knife down firmly and reached in a drawer for a box of candles.
As soon as she brought them out, the vision of the cake wavered. Then, with a poof! the missing piece reappeared with a “JK” iced in thin chocolate drizzle as the cake stood restored. She began to laugh. “That scoundrel.” She began to plop twenty candles into place.
So we blew out candles and sang silly songs (Brian knew a few from ages past about getting older that made all of us blush) and ate cake and ice cream till no one could move from their chairs and still have enough for the now infamous Steptoe and maybe a surprise visitor or two.
I stood up reluctantly.
Mom tilted her head at me. “Where are you going, hon?”
“Downstairs. In case Dad is around.”
“Want company?”
“Not tonight.”
She said softly, “Tell him I love him.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.” Because I knew she still did, despite all that he’d put us through.
The stairs had, at one time, been hidden and incredibly creaky when discovered. Illumination came from the massive hole in the floor when Hiram fell through to a forgotten cellar. Old shelves had held mysterious jars floating with viscous liquid and objects too vague to be identified. Then there had been the cupboard in the corner where I’d unearthed the maelstrom stone.
Now, of course, it looked bright and glossy, like a modern day ice cream parlor, and the only shadows left were stark silhouettes in the corners. It still smelled a little musty, though. Aunt April had never told us about this old cellar and I wondered what she’d think if she knew it had been renovated. I didn’t think she’d mind. When we moved on, which we would someday, it would only make the old place more valuable.
Unless, of course, we’d laid a new floor over more family secrets. That might perturb Aunt April.
I sat down on the bottom step. “Hey, Dad. I know time is a little distorted down here, but it’s my birthday, so I came down to say hi and thank you.” I folded my hands, absently stroking the new glove over my left hand. Good thing Steptoe had given me two pairs; I’d almost lost the one glove tonight already.
A slight chill swept over the stairs. I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear a thin and reedy voice in my ear. “How old?”
“Twenty. Can you believe it?”
The breezy tone whistled slightly. “I’ve missed so much.”
“Mom says for me to remind you that she loves you.”
“And I love the two of you.”
“I haven’t found the way to bring you back yet, but I’m working on it.” I looked around the basement. “Maybe I could bring his books and stuff here after all. The professor needs to clear them out.”
“Dangerous.” The cold gust touched the side of my neck.
“You’re probably right on that one. We could rent a storage unit, but I haven’t got the money, especially now that I have to pay insurance—oh! They got me a car!”
“Nice.” The word, long and drawn out and weary sounding. I could tell that my father had just about reached the limit of his communication tonight. I hadn’t talked to him in weeks, so I wondered for a moment what he’d been doing that drained him so much.
“Go rest, Dad. I’ll be back after a while.”
“Gooooooo.”
And then the chill evaporated, and I stood up and made my way back to the kitchen where the dishwasher hummed with a load of dessert plates and forks and dinner plates and everything had been tidied. An heirloom cake lid, slightly dinged and silvery, rested over the leftovers. Guests had gone and family was treading lightly in the rooms upstairs and I could hear the wood flooring creak softly as they did. I went to join them.
The next morning I fell out of bed again.
I huffed a long breath, irritated with what seemed to be a habit, but no rainbows and stars greeted me. Instead, the whole house moaned and groaned and shook as if gripped by an earthquake. The windows shuddered and the eaves rasped. Quake? Really? I felt and listened for a moment as my home moved uneasily, and then I grinned. I threw clothes on, washed my face, and wrestled my hair into a ponytail before thundering downstairs while the house settled, its joints still scraping uneasily. As I’d passed the tell-tales sitting in their vase in their niche, I could see their flower faces were all aimed downstairs, letting me know the center of the house’s troubles. But I already had a fairly good idea.
“Hiram!”
Mortimer’s somewhat taller, just a tad thinner, and much handsomer son turned in the foyer and smiled up at me as I leaped down the last of the stair steps. “Well met, and I am sorry I missed your birthday.” The house settled as he steadied his Iron Dwarf mass.
“That’s all right. We still have cake.”
“Cake sounds desirable this morning. Might you have a stout cup of tea to go with?”
“If we don’t, I’ll make you one.”
I squeezed past Mom to the stove where the kettle made little puffs of steam, getting ready to whistle, as she’d already put it on to heat. “I’ll get that.”
She took a plate, fork, and napkin to Hiram as he sat down carefully. The chair complained a little as he made certain to center his bulk upon it. I made a note to watch yard sales and see if we could get him his own stout perch. The Iron Dwarf swung a twine-wrapped package onto the tabletop.
“For you, lass. The clan wanted this for you.”
I made sure the tea held nearly the color of coffee before I set his cup and the sugar bowl in front of him. He didn’t take milk in it like Simon did, and he smiled as he reached for his drink. “Go on. Open it, then.”
The package nearly opened itself as I unknotted the colored twine and pulled the heavy paper open. What lay inside took my breath away. “What . . . are these . . . they look . . .”
“Bracers,” he said. “Wrist cuffs, aye. Won’t turn bullets away . . . well, they might, but I wouldn’t depend on that. They will turn away most blades and keep you safe. If you put them on a windowsill in the sun, those yellow gems there will soak up the light and glow in the dark for a while, at need.”
I looked at them, nearly speechless. “What? Really? Get out of here!”
“Really.”
I picked up the bracers and examined their beauty. “Not gold.” They couldn’t be. Bronze, maybe.
“Not exactly,” Hiram smiled around a forkful of chocolate cake.
I tried one on and flexed my arm about. “I look like a freaking superhero!”
“Aye, that’s the thought of it. Not for the looks but for the use of them. They’re armor, and they’re meant to help keep you safe, and to aid you in the art of war.”
My mother sat down too quickly. “War?”
“Well, not war, Missus Andrews, forbid that, but encounters. Of a magical and other sort. At need, as it were.” Hiram quickly devoured two more forkfuls as if to shut himself up as much as enjoy the dessert. His cheeks puffed out.
I put on the other bracer and stretched my arms out to test their weight. Definitely could feel their presence, but it wasn’t like carrying a bowling ball in each hand, and I considered them thoughtfully. “Thank you, and thank everyone for them. They have an old look to them.”
“They have a history, that’s for certain, but not one I can relate here and now as I’m not much of a scholar.” He’d swallowed hastily before answering and now reached for his napkin. “I’ll ask around and get the stories for you.”
More than one story? “Cool.”
Hiram beamed. “I am pleased you like them. It would be advisable to wear them as often as you can. They need to learn their wearer; that much I know.”
“Interesting.”
“Necessary,” he countered, before looking away from my mother’s hard glance and busying himself with his tea.
“Did you see my new car in the drive?”
“I did. And it’s yours now?”
“Yes. Want to come sit in it with me, soon as you’ve finished?”
He caught my look. “Ah. I’d be honored. Taking me for a drive?”
“Not yet. I’ve work to do around here and finish up for class, but soon. I just want to sit in it.”
Hiram inclined his head gracefully and made short work of his treat, dusted his hands after he surrendered his plate and thanked my mom, and followed me out the door.
It still felt strange to open the car up with keys that belonged to me. I sat in the driver’s seat and watched Hiram make his way to the passenger side. He slid in and settled comfortably, and the old car, bless its steel hide, settled a little on its shocks and struts but didn’t complain too much. He fit well.
“I thought so.”
His auburn eyebrow rose. “What?”
“The front seats are mismatched. Yours, if you may note, is bigger, wider, and deeper. This used to be the professor’s car and it looks as if he customized it a bit so he could drive your father around.”
“Ah.” Hiram took stock. “Yes, so it would appear. It fits me well, although cars are not my favorite mode of transportation.”
“Horse and buggy?”
“Of course not! SUV.” Hiram winked at me. “I’m glad you brought me out here. We have to talk, and I needed a bit of privacy.”
“Me, too.”
He waved a hand at me. “Ladies first.”
I took a deep breath. “There’s never been a good time to ask this, but Mortimer once mentioned he knew my father . . . and possibly what had happened to him. He did some work in my world that included debt collection, and both my aunt and my dad had gambling problems.”
Hiram inclined his head. “He could very well have known both of your family.”
“Would he have had any idea how my dad got sucked into the ghost zone?”
Hiram sat very still for a long moment. I could see the muscles along his jaw tense and release, tense and release, before he finally answered. “That I cannot tell you.”
“Don’t know or can’t disclose?”
“They are not the same thing.”
“I know that,” I told him seriously. “I don’t know if you’re bound by any kind of oath or pledge or rule, but I’ve got to find out what happened so I can undo it.”
“You have a dilemma, then, because I can’t help you. I will, however, do what I can to help you find out what you need to know.”
Disappointed, I sat back in the driver’s seat. Hiram spread his hands apologetically. “It’s the best I can do, Tessa, for now. My sources, however, are widespread. There’s that, at least.”
It didn’t feel like enough, but I thanked him anyway. We sat in silence for a moment until he noted the low mileage and a few other features, praising my birthday surprise.
Finally, I asked, “What did you need?”
He looked at the floor boards. “A deed, if you will. A quest, of sorts. And it’s not as a payback for your bracers. Those are a present, freely given. They are yours whether you tell me yay or nay.”
A quest? “Tell me.”
“You’ve heard, no doubt, that we are in a bit of turmoil.”
“Your clans?”
He nodded.
“It’s been mentioned. How serious is it?”
“Not very, yet, but it could become fatal at a moment’s notice.”
I could hear the dismay in his voice, and I patted his knee. “Fighting?”
“All-out war.” He looked up. “We can’t have that. There are few enough as ’tis, and with Malender returned, we need to be united and focused.”
“Is he the Great Evil?”
“We don’t know. Many think such. He is powerful, and he does cause a great deal of consternation. Truth to tell, Tessa, he is not remembered all that clearly, for there aren’t many records of him and his purposes. We are long-lived and keep good journals, but he existed in the misty first years of our civilization before he disappeared.”
I thought of my dream of him, and all the souls he took for his own power, and a cold shiver ran through me. Hiram didn’t notice, though, wrapped in his own worries. I’d promised to listen to him, so I pressed. “So what kind of quest is it?”
“Something has been taken, something very valuable and important—not just to my clan, but to all magic peoples.”
This felt like pulling out fingernails. Or teeth. “Okay, but why me and what is it?” And my palms began itching before he answered.
“It is best that you search for it because you have no personal stake in it. And yet you’re nearly one of us, so you can understand how important it is. Also, the last possessor was female and it will return mostly easily to a female hand.”
“And it is . . .”
“The Eye of Nimora.”
I recoiled. “You want me to find an eyeball? Ewwww.”
“No, no, no. I mean, yes, I want you to find it, but it’s not an eyeball. It’s a ruby. Large as a goose egg. It did have its own 24-karat setting, but it could have been removed.”
“A ruby? Like in emeralds, sapphires, and rubies?”
“Aye.”
I tried to imagine how much a ruby as big as a goose egg would be worth, and failed. I’d google that later. “What are the odds it’s still in one piece? That someone wouldn’t have cut it down into several priceless gems? A jewel thief likely would have done that first thing to make it easier to fence.”
“If they knew what they had, they wouldn’t dare.”
“Hiram, this is the real world here. And who is Nimora and why don’t you ask her what happened to it?”
“She’s been gone for a millennium, but her memory remains as the gem.”
“Mystical, okay. Who had it last and why would anyone want it?”
“I’ll answer the last question first: the Eye sees truth. I don’t have to explain that one to you; the value is clear, and we Iron Dwarves have used it to help rule fairly for centuries. Among all our peoples, uncomplicated truth is even more rare than egg-sized rubies. It keeps our interactions fair and just. Some tribes are incapable of simple honesty. The elves alone are—”
“There are elves?”
“Aye. They don’t lie, but neither do they tell the precise truth. They’re a very slippery people to deal with, and then there are those who live and die by magic whether human or immortal. To them, truth is a blade that slices both ways. Vampires are a law unto themselves—”
“Vampires?”
“Very few and rare but generally extremely powerful despite their rarity.”
“I can imagine.”
“You’re better off if you don’t.” Hiram shifted and the whole car moved with him, rocking up and down and side to side. “We Broadstones carry the justice system in our hands, and the Eye of Nimora is crucial. We have a trial coming up for which the Eye is desperately needed.”
“Okay, then.” I felt a little dizzy. “Who had it last?”
“It was a bride price from Mortimer to Goldie.”
“Morty gave it to your stepmother?” My voice climbed. I had experience with harpies, interactions that I hadn’t liked at the time and vowed never to repeat. It had been a harpy who’d killed Morty, and I knew that Hiram knew that well.
“Yes.”
“Whatever for?”
“To prove his love to her, and his trust in her.”
“And she absconded with the thing when she disappeared.”
“We’re not sure. It might have gone first or slightly thereafter or with. That’s part of what we need to find out. And we need to find Germanigold to know. And then we need to find the Eye of Nimora before any more tribes learn it’s gone, and our whole system breaks down. When she was by my father’s side, the system stayed whole and workable despite the fact she was a harpy, with no one the wiser that she actually held the gem. She gave up most of her life for him. The Eye of Nimora saw for us as it’s meant to do, and we had no problems even though it was Goldie’s.”
“But she was technically one of you.”
“Exactly.”
I thought of the day I’d come to deliver one of the professor’s meals and I’d overheard Mortimer talking with him. I hadn’t know who or what he was then as I eavesdropped from the kitchen, only that his rich and profoundly bass tones filled the professor’s small house and he’d wanted the wizard to find his wife, who’d been taken. And the professor had refused to interfere. I’d wondered why then and now.
I also wondered if the professor in Brian’s head would remember—or tell me. I thought some more before saying, “So this is just a little quest.”
Hiram looked at me. “Why, no. This is deadly important.”
“I was being facetious.”
“Oh.”
I crossed my wrists in the air over the dashboard, wondering if my new bracers and I were up to the task at hand. My mother would be sternly against it, and Carter would probably have conniption fits, but I thought I could guilt Brian into backing me. After all, if he’d gone after Goldie when first asked, a great deal of what followed might not have happened. Despite all the manipulations I began to plan, I still felt like a superhero. I heard Hiram swallow tightly. I thought of his friendship and his father’s friendship and made a corporate decision.
“I hate to ask, but we’re going to need some operating funds.”
“I am prepared to offer you—” and he named a princely sum that would cover my mother’s salary for the next two years, if we were frugal, and both of us knew how to squeeze a dollar until the ink ran out of it. She could go on sabbatical. She could finally finish her dissertation and get a tenure track job with more money, benefits, and stability. She could publish. I could give her one of her dreams. I didn’t for an instant feel sorry for the Iron Dwarf clan because I knew they had very deep pockets and they could well afford a dozen of me doing the job.
“So you’ll . . .”
“Do it? Of course.” I patted the steering wheel. “Looks like I got a car in the nick of time!”