THE DEAD TAXI

When the starting pistol fired and the gate slid up, Caesar Macklin shivered. All day he’d felt an eerie, weightless vibration in his chest and hoped he knew what it was. Today was the day his luck turned, when he finally won enough to cover his debts and then some. One way or another, this was his last bet.

The handlers dove out of the way and the camels exploded out of their starting positions, their two-toed feet pounding the dirt. Without meaning to, Caesar shot to his feet. Beer sloshed from his transparent cup to splash the old woman sitting on the next riser down, but Caesar barely noticed. The crowd roared, and he howled his camel’s name, “Filllllllayyy Gumbooooooooh Ya-yaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Caesar spilled the rest of his beer down the front of his sport shirt as Gumbo Ya-ya pulled into first place, spurred by the whipping of its robot jockey. Time elongated like a hank of saltwater taffy.

“Yes! YEAAAAAAH!” Caesar screamed. Now he felt as if he’d left his body. He saw himself at the far end of a blazing golden tunnel thrusting his crumpled beer cup in his hand.

He blinked, and quick-cut, he lay with the riser digging into his back. An enormous Black man with eyes so blank he looked like a statue bent over him, glaring into Caesar’s face as he held the barrel of a gun to Caesar’s chin. His excitement turned to terror, Caesar thought he might already have loosed his bowels.

CAIN’T GET RIGHT, growled the man. GOT A FRIEND I WANTCHA TA MEET, HEARD?

With his free hand, the man snatched the front of Caesar’s shirt and lifted him easily from the seat, keeping the gun’s barrel trained on Caesar’s face. He knew he’d been watching for something. He knew something important had been happening, but as he stared into the black circular space, he couldn’t remember what it had been. He clenched his eyes shut.

The scents of stale beer and turned earth and summer sweat disappeared, replaced by those of mold and dust and piles and piles of books and yellowed paper.

THIS HIM?

yes o yes it is cant get right indeed

FOUNT HIM AT THE FAIRGROUNDS JUSS LIKE YOU SAID.

is he sleeping  passed out from terror

BREATHING LIKE THAT, HE PROLLY AWAKE. JUST SCARED IS ALL.

open your eyes dear ditty tune unless you prefer to lose your limbs before you die

Caesar forced his eyes open and the bottom dropped out of his belly. Raggedy streams of paper hung from the vaulted ceiling above him, and a terrible white grinning face hung above him like a rotten moon. One of its eyes was shut, its lid sunken as if the ball had gone, and the other was red and mad and glowing. Its throat worked, and for a moment Caesar had no idea what was wrong with it, but then he realized—the thing had swallowed something awful, wriggling, horribly alive, and it fought to keep from vomiting whatever it was straight into Caesar’s face.

“Pluh-please!” Caesar stammered. “I—I—I can get it for you. All of it. Just don’t— Don’t! Please.”

hail and welcome friend  said the wraith. tell me what do you believe your name to be

“Suh-suh-Caesar Macklin, sir. I can guh-guarantee, whoever you lookin’ for, I ain’t him.”

you aren t the one   or you can get the money  which is it  caesar macklin

“Buh-both!” Caesar’s voice broke. “Whatever you want! Please!”

He didn’t hear the shot that killed him.

The wraith bristled like a feral cat and stretched its mouth into a hateful yellow square. imbecile  youve shot him  youve killed   how dare you

YOU THE KINDA CAT LIKES TO PLAY WIF HIS FOOD, BUT THAT DON’T DO NOTHIN’ FOR ME.

The wraith hissed and rippled, turned briefly away to spit a moccasin onto the carpeted floor. For a split second, the serpent lay still; then it began to slither away.

mister Shelton  said the haint, it is through the enactment of my plan that we will be liberated from our prison so never   do not ever interrupt my interrogation again  understood

The spirit and the big man glared at each other for a moment.

Then, finally, ION WORK FOR YOU, DIG? WE PODNAHS.

   yes partners  just so    those were the terms we established

GLAD YOU REMEMBER. I’D HATE TO HAVE TO REMIND YO ASS. His stony glare softened some. DID KILLIN’ THIS ONE WORK LIKE WE THOUGHT?

The wraith lifted its blade of a nose to scent the air. i believe so  yes  i believe youll find when you investigate that the races at the fairgrounds and the speechless mules and horses are all gone

Stagger Lee grinned mirthlessly. THEN WE RIGHT ON TRACK. I’LL GO GET THE NEXT ONE.

Miss Yvette stood barefoot in a cold rain. She was running from something, she knew. An unseen pursuer that seemed to be not just behind her, but overhead as well. As she hurried across muddy ground, a cold gathered in her feet that she was sure she’d never get out. She—

Thunder cracked overhead, and cracked again.

With the rain falling so hard, she could barely see, but when she squinted she could make out shapes in the twilight. Pine trees, or giant, heavily skirted women standing at regular intervals. They were too big to notice her. They didn’t care what was happening. They just—

That thunder. That damn thunder, she—

Yvette jerked awake. Peaches sat on the sofa across from her, knees drawn up so that her feet—they were clean, thank God—rested on the surface of the royal purple cushion. “What was that?” she asked.

“The kitchen,” Peaches said. “I think they back.”

Carefully, Yvette rose from her chair and tested her balance. She was still bone weary after her first spell in Lord knew how long, but she no longer felt ready to collapse under her own weight. She crossed through the dining room to the kitchen with its pale yellow accent tile and black-and-white checked floor. The refrigerator hummed pleasantly away and the cabinets stood closed. A muffled scraping clatter came from the broad bottom cabinet to the left of the doubled sink, then the battered enamel stockpot Yvette had inherited from her mother edged open the door and fell to the checked floor. Its lid rolled off and across the kitchen until it met the stove’s warmer drawer and clattered unsteadily to a stop.

Soon after, Brendy climbed out to stand wide-eyed in the kitchen. She wore a smudged red hooded sweatshirt Yvette had never seen before. “It’s winter here, too?” she said.

Now that her daughter mentioned it, Yvette realized it was cold—and not the pleasant chill from the AC set to seventy-three degrees. It couldn’t be warmer than sixty-eight in here. Brendy rushed to her mother and Yvette bent to squeeze her tight. Tears swam in her vision as she smelled the cocoa butter grease on the girl’s little scalp. “Welcome home, sweet pea,” she said. “Thanks for coming back to me.” Then, “Where’s Perry?”

Brendy spoke into her mother’s breasts. “Ioknow,” she said. “He musta gone somewhere else. I met a tree but all she gave me was a rock.”

“Can I see?”

Brendy didn’t respond right away—she seemed to need a little more closeness—but finally she pulled away far enough to lift the stone up on her palm.

Yvette shivered as her eyes fell on it, and it was an effort for her to speak at normal volume—she wanted to whisper in hushed tones for fear of disturbing the thing. “I see… Go get cleaned up and meet us back in the living room, heard?”

Brendy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes momentarily at the little thing. “You hold it for me?”

Yvette shook her head. “It’s yours,” she said quietly. “Guard it with your life.”

Brendy grunted softly as if she’d rather not share what she thought of that. “Okay, rock. I show you around!” She scampered out of the kitchen, then darted back at full speed to throw herself at Peaches.

As the older girl wrapped her arms around Brendy, her eyes closed and all the tension all but left her face. “Girl, I was worried worried.”

“Pssssssssht,” Brendy said. “Baby, I’m from Central City!”

They unclasped and she hurried away again.

Now Peaches looked troubled again. “I thought they was together.”

“So did I,” Yvette said, “but Perry will be back directly.” She didn’t add that if Brendy had retrieved the Rock, there was no telling what Perry would bring with him. The situation must be worse than she’d feared.

After a beat, Brendy’s shout rang down the stairs: “LORDAMERCY THIS NEGRO IN THE BATHTUB, SLEEP !”

Perry sat up hard, coughing. The water—! The water was still on him, still around and in him! He stopped short, blinked. It took him a moment to realize that he was somewhere utterly familiar. From the blue flowers on the shower curtain to the heavy wooden vanity and the medicine cabinet suspended above it, to the open door and Brendy standing halfway into the hall, watching him with wide eyes.

Perry tried to speak and lost his voice in another coughing fit. He crawled onto his knees and spat a gout of water directly into the bathtub drain. He’d lost his shirt. A brief flash of memory came to him, pulling his shirt up and off before diving into water… somewhere. For a moment the memory threatened to resolve, then shuddered and blipped away completely. “I couldn’t get it,” he said. “I failed.”

The noise of feet sounded on stairs, but Peaches appeared before it ceased.

Perry shut his eyes, shook his head. “I didn’t get it.”

“Uh, Perry…” Peaches said. “I think you did, though.”

Perry opened his eyes and frowned. A giddy tingle raced from the crown of his head down the back of his neck when he saw a hank of rough brown fabric clasped in his left fist. With effort, he loosened his grip. His mouth worked without sound for a moment, then, “Brendy, where you got that hoodie?”

He and his baby sister stared at each other for a beat, shocked. Her only answer was a theatrical shrug.

Now their mother appeared behind Peaches in the bathroom doorway, wide-eyed and breathing hard. Her gaze locked on the something in Perry’s hand and her face paled. “Perilous,” she said, but she didn’t take her eyes off it. “Thank God.”

Perry shook his head. “I thought I died,” he said. “What is it? What’s this?”

“I don’t know everything,” Perry’s mother said, “but I can tell you a thing or two. Brendy, you can use the master bathroom. Both of y’all get cleaned up and put some fresh clothes on, then come to the living room. Come on, Peaches. Let’s get out their way.” She turned and started back down the hall.

Peaches lingered for a moment. Her expression was difficult to read, but when she smiled, Perry knew all he needed to.

Perry’s mother sipped her tea and hummed absently in her throat. When Perry had descended the stairs, freshly showered-up and dressed, she’d had a tray ready, complete with tea and honey for each of them and a little dish of lemon slices. Now, instead of using the couch and the chairs, Perry’s mother sat on the floor, her thick legs stretched out in a vee, and the kids arranged themselves to face her, cross-legged, on the thick blue-gray carpet. Perry’s potato sack—for what else could it be?—sat spread before him, and Brendy’s bean-shaped pebble lay before her. She glared at it fiercely with her arms crossed over her belly, then cleared the expression away before anyone besides Perry could notice.

Perry lifted his cup and breathed the steam. He wondered idly how long they’d been away.

“You done good,” Yvette said. “Both of you. I’ll explain what I can, but first I must tell you of your fourth-great-grandmother, the Wise Woman Kadiatou. She was powerful indeed. By the time she was sixteen, she could crack the earth just by stamping one foot. But one day, slavecatchers stole her husband and her baby boy.”

Brendy took a sharp, hurt breath.

“Kadiatou wept and wailed and tore her clothes, but that’s not all she did. She went after them. She found the place where they were last seen and walked around it three times, until slavecatchers grabbed her and carried her to the coast. There, they loaded her aboard a big-bellied ship with two hundred other African folks. Chained together and terrified. They set sail.

“Before they’d gone far, lightning split the empty sky like God’s own finger saying, THERE! The slave ship sank, and everyone on board went with it. Your fourth-great-grandmother, too. But instead of drowning and sinking to the bottom, they were rescued by a squadron of soldiers with gills and fins and black-black skin.”

A chill spread across Perry’s chest.

“Queen Abla Pokou had pulled the slave ship down into the depths. She was tall-tall, and her skin was even blacker than that of her soldiers. Black-black and spangled like the night. She ruled the kingdom of Grand Lahou, down beneath the ocean waves.

“The kidnapped people rejoiced, and the kingdom rejoiced with them. Everyone sang and danced beneath the waves. The celebration lasted forty days and forty nights, and at its end, Queen Pokou called the kidnapped people before the throne. She asked them, ‘Now that we have welcomed you to the Land Beneath and celebrated your rescue for forty days, what would you thrice-blest people do? Who among you would return to your homes?’

“One hundred men and women stepped forward, saying, ‘Yes, O Queen. We would return to our homes and to our peoples who mourn our loss that they might smile again and rejoice our return.’

“‘Go, cousins,’ said the Queen, and gestured with her sacred Orb. When she did, those one hundred returned instantly to their homes to live in peace for the rest of their days.

“And the Queen Abla Pokou said, ‘You others, what would you do? Would you remain here in Grand Lahou, honored among our people?’

“One hundred men and women stepped forward, saying, ‘Yes, Most Gracious and Fearsome Queen. We would remain in Grand Lahou, revered as treasured citizens.’

“‘So be it,’ said the Queen. ‘As sons and daughters of Grand Lahou, you will remain with us as full citizens of the Land Beneath. You will marry the greatest and most beautiful among us and bear Lahouan children to live and thrive for untold generations.’

“A great cheer rose up, and those one hundred danced from the throne room. The festivities resumed to last another forty days and forty nights, for the lost were now found, and were home at last.

“But the Queen was troubled. Worry knitted her starry brow. Nine of the kidnapped people had chosen neither to return to their homeland nor remain beneath the waves. Queen Pokou said, ‘You remaining nine. You would not return nor would you remain. You do not dance for joy. Why are you still unhappy after all we Lahouans have done for you?’

“‘O great Queen Beneath the Waves,’ cried your fourth-great-grandmother, Kadiatou, ‘My heart is heavy. My home is no home without my husband and my infant son. Neither is Grand Lahou, for they are not here. I’ll find no peace until I see them once more.’

“The other eight wailed and lamented their agreement, saying, ‘Our loved ones have been stolen and carried across the sea. How can we rejoice? We must travel on and be reunited in life or in death.’

“And the Queen said, ‘I know where your loved ones have been taken. The lands you speak of are harsh and full of evil men. Pain and violence are its meat and bread, and tears of the innocent water the crops. If you travel there, you will surely die.’”

Perry clenched his teeth. He knew about Slave Times. He’d learned both at home and at school how for generations, white folks had enriched themselves through the blood and pain of Black people. For Kadiatou to travel to America in those days… The Queen was right. Only death and torture waited for her there—whether she found her family or not.

“‘It is true what you say,’ Kadiatou told the Queen. ‘But just as my homeland is no home at all without my husband and child, my life can hold no joy without them. If seeking them in that far-off land will kill me, I will perish knowing that I have tried.’

“The Queen saw that Kadiatou and the rest of the Last Nine would not be dissuaded. ‘If you would journey on, so be it. But do so armed with powerful weapons to aid you in your quest.’ Two enchanted weapons were given to each of the Nine. Wise Woman Kadiatou used hers to rescue her husband and her son and they lived free for the rest of their days.”

“She found them?” Perry said. “She did it?”

The idea of anyone—even a Wise Woman—rescuing her kidnapped people from the plantation… He could almost see her. The fine darkness of her features. In the theater of Perry’s mind, he saw her raise the sack in her left hand. She opened her mouth to speak, and—

“Yes,” his mother said. “But that’s a story for another time.”

“Aw, nurtz!” Brendy said, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Perry’s mother cracked a smile in spite of herself. “I know,” she said. “And it is quite a story, let me tell you…” She paused. “Perilous. Stand.”

Perry picked up the sack and did as he was told. It felt like an ordinary thing, just an ugly old bag like so many he’d seen before at the farmer’s market.

“Perry, this bag has been passed down in our family since your fourth-great-grandmother received it from the Starry Queen. For generations, it’s been hidden elsewhere for safekeeping, and now you’ve recovered it.” She swallowed. “Perry. Perilous. It is exceedingly powerful, so—so be careful with it, please.” She hesitated again. “I don’t know what all is inside it, but it might be connected to the other weapons of the Last Nine. Reach in.”

In that moment, Perry felt like more than a single boy. There was a crowd inside him, jostling and squabbling. Some of him wanted to do as his mother told him, but others screamed at him to throw the sack to the floor, refuse it. Curiosity was a bright burning pinprick in Perry’s chest. He was on the verge of something terrible, but after the story his mother told, how could he refuse?

Perry opened the bag to look inside. He saw nothing at all. It was not that he saw an empty bag; it was that inside the sack, he saw Nothingness itself. It was a black, light-drinking void impenetrable to his eyes.

Holding the bag with his right hand, Perry reached in with his left. He reached down and down, first up to his shoulder, and then stuck his head in as well, sweeping his hand back and forth in search of something. His fingers closed on what felt like a length of wood, and images flashed in his mind.

Perry stood in the throne room of a grand Egyptian palace, gripping a staff in his left hand. The pharoah in all his glory stared, unimpressed, as Perry cast his staff to the stone floor of the throne room. When it hit, the staff hissed and writhed, and—

He let go of the staff, breathing hard.

“I told you to be careful,” his mother said. “Don’t open the Clackin’ Sack unless you need to use it. But there’s something else.”

“What?” Brendy barked.

“The sack is not just for pulling things out. It’s for putting things in. Anything. Anything at all. All you have to do is open the sack and say these words: ‘Clickety-clack, get into my sack.’”

“And then what happens?” Perry asked.

“Then anything you command will get into your sack.”

“… Anything?” Peaches asked.

“Anything.”

Terror darkened Perry’s mind like the shadow of a predator bird. He tried not to consider what he’d seen. What his mother was telling him made Perry want to dig a hole, climb into it, and pull the hole in after him. He felt exposed. Exposed in a way he’d never wanted to be since… since he’d switched schools.

The life he wanted was slipping away. He didn’t know how long he’d been away, but assuming this was the same day he’d left, this was only the second day of their quest. He could already feel his spirit bowing under the weight of new knowledge. At this rate, a week from now Perry wouldn’t be able to drag himself out of bed. He sat down again before his legs could fail him.

“Brendolyn Eunice Graves. Stand.”

Instead of jumping to her feet, Brendy rose slowly, like an old woman. Perry’s mother motioned Brendy closer. “Brendy, Mama Lisa told me about the device you retrieved. It is vastly powerful, but its control cannot be taught.”

Brendy held up her stone and squinted at it. “Great!” she said falsely.

To Perry, Brendy’s rock looked like nothing but a mildly interesting pebble you might find lying in the grass. It didn’t even look substantial enough to cause trouble for a lawnmower. He knew how Brendy thought: Whenever they played, she insisted that rules be applied equally to everyone involved. She had a wild streak, but fairness was her compass, and when that value was violated, she was liable to explode—provided she could do so on her own terms, and in a time and place of her own choosing. A stranger might not see it—even a loved one might miss it—but her face seemed less expressive than usual, which told Perry she’d put on a mask. She must be furious.

“Mama Lisa told me it only looks like a rock. According to her, this object is at least as powerful as Perry’s sack.”

“If it ain’t a rock, then what it is?” Brendy asked lightly.

“It’s—honey, I don’t know,” Perry’s mother said. “My migraines kept me from getting very far in my training. I’ve only got a couple spells and using them is buku costly for me. Otherwise, I’d ask it myself.”

Brendy swallowed hard. “Oh—okay, then,” she said. “Yes. Wonderful. Thank you, Mama.” Her face slackened even more.

“I know you’re disappointed. I wish Mama Lisa herself was here to explain.”

“That’s okay,” Brendy said, raising her eyebrows a little too far—selling too hard. She was getting angrier by the minute. “I love my rock. It’s better than Perry’s dumb old bag, anyway.” She wavered, then resumed her seat next to Peaches.

“What about the cold?” Perry asked.

His mother pursed her lips and nodded. “That’s one more thing that ain’t right in all this. I think you’re right—that whoever took Daddy Deke took the songs or tricked them into running away. I think they’re trying to change the city, take its power away, and whatever they’re doing is working. Y’all need to get out there and find them songs.”

“And Daddy Deke,” Brendy said.

“One will get us the other,” Perry said grimly. It sounded like the kind of thing the Blue Marvel would say as the Ultimate Avengers mobilized against a new threat. Who was stronger, he wondered—Peaches or Miss America?

Peaches stood. “Aight, then,” she said. “Y’all heard y’all mama.”

“Do you need me to drive you?” said Perry’s mother. “How y’all getting where you going?”

Peaches shook her head. “Cain’t drive where we headed,” she said. “We need us a dead taxi.”

“Do y’all understand the risk I’m taking by letting you go?” she asked.

“I—I think so,” Perry said.

Yvette shook her head. “You don’t. You can’t. Just—you’re all part of my heart, so please please look after each other.”

“What’s a dead taxi, anyway?” Brendy asked as she, Perry, and Peaches waited outside in the fog. Her voice sounded brittle and deadly calm. Perry knew she was about to snap, but he had no idea how to avert an outburst—or what to tell her when it came.

Her question was fair, though. Perry didn’t understand the concept himself. Peaches spent a lot of time on her own, and she seemed to know a lot more about dead folks and haints than Brendy or Perry did.

Folded small, his magic sack rested in the front pocket of his jeans. What bothered Perry even more than Brendy’s barely-suppressed rage was that Mama Lisa must have been mistaken. Perry never should have received the sack. He wasn’t ready for such a responsibility, and he never would be. He tried to think of the incantation he’d been given to use and failed. The words wouldn’t sound in his mind—not because he had forgotten them, but because even to think them—let alone say them—would be for Perry to admit that his life could not be what he wanted… But what did he want?

He knew that his resistance had something to do with the Terrible Thing that had forced him to switch schools—the voice that wasn’t his that sometimes sounded in his head—but he sensed there was more to it. He felt it when he thumbed through his parents’ photo albums, saw pictures of them at their wedding in City Park, dancing beneath the Peristyle, or at Skate Land in Metry, laughing hard as they held each other upright… He wanted photos like that when he grew up, photos of him and Peaches. But if he ran from his responsibilities, all that would be swept away. His cowardice would mark him just as starkly, just as indelibly as some sorcerous mantle.

Desperate for distraction, Perry watched the girls. Peaches wore her usual raggedy dress, but Brendy wore a puffy white winter jacket over her blue-and-white polka-dot dress. Perry himself wore a bright blue hoodie over his T-shirt. He had left it unzipped when he came outside, but now he drew the zipper up to protect himself from the chill. He tried to feel good about the weather—after all, the fog spared the city the heat of summer—but it was clammy and bothersome. More than that, Perry knew it was silly, but he worried that when the fog burned away, it would leave behind a neighborhood different from the one he knew. He imagined the streets and buildings whispering in the murk, conspiring to confuse the common citizenry.

“It’s a taxi that take you to the Dead Side of Town,” Peaches said.

“Brendy,” Perry said. “I’ll trade if you want.” As soon as he spoke them, he knew that his words had brought Brendy’s outburst closer rather than staving it off.

Brendy grinned a plastic grin. “Peaches,” she said, “would you please tell your friend ain’t no way I’ma trade my inheritance for his stupid-ass dusty-ass bag?”

Peaches raised her eyebrows, saying nothing.

“Brendy,” Perry said.

Brendy crossed her arms, still grinning. “Please explain to your friend, Peaches, that I done said what I said.”

“Damn, Brendy,” Perry said. “Why you gotta act like you didn’t get nothing?”

Once again, he knew he’d made things worse. Here it comes, he thought.

Brendy pivoted to face him. She planted her feet, balled her fists, and let Perry have it. “Why I gotta—? Why you always gotta act like my feelings don’t mean nothing?” She clenched her fists at her sides, screaming at Perry with the full force of her voice. “You always get the best toys and the best everything cuz you older and you a boy! You get to fix the fishes and all I do is chop the damn salad! You ain’t no better than me, Perry! You ain’t no more important than I am, Perry! You just a gawky-ass little kid scared outta his damn mind, so good luck saving the city with your stupid old dusty bag!”

“Baby, y’all gotta keep it cool,” Peaches warned.

“Tell Brendy!” Perry said. “Brendy needs to keep it cool! And you know what? You can’t blame me for this! You can’t blame me for something some old haint decided! This ain’t my fault!”

“Oh, ain’t it?” Brendy yelled. “Because it surehell feel like your stupid fault, Perry! You lucky I don’t whup your ugly ass right here in the street!”

Peaches stepped between them and held them apart. “Now, listen,” she said. “We got work. We ain’t got time to stand here woofin’ in the street. Y’all need to cool out, or best believe I will leave y’all ass right here and handle this my damn self.”

Brendy reached around Peaches to stab a finger in Perry’s direction. “You supposed to be my big brother, Perry, but you left me! You left me at Dryades all by myself!”

Now that it was out, Perry realized this was what had been hovering, unsaid, around them for months.

Peaches raised her eyebrows and got out of Brendy’s way.

Perry’s heart sank. “I don’t—! I didn’t—!”

“Because you couldn’t play piano? That’s some bullshit right there, Perry!”

“You don’t know nothing about that,” Perry growled. “And I will not get into this with you.”

Brendy paused, seemed unsure what to say.

“I don’t even want the sack,” Perry said. “I hate it. You think I want pictures of fucking Moses in my head?”

“Pictures of—? What?” Brendy said.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Perry said, and realized all at once that he was crying. Once again he felt that crowd of selves inside him, all squabbling, every one saying something different. Too many. The chorus made his brain feel hot and wrinkled his scalp.

“In books and movies, magic adventures are fun. But this don’t feel fun, it feels heavy! The only reason I’m glad to have the bag is because I don’t want nobody else to have to use it. Especially not you, Brendy. I need you to stuh-stay happy.”

“Negro, all I got was a rock! A rock!”

“Brendy—!”

“I don’t wanna fight with you bout this, Perry.” Brendy sounded tired, much older than she was. “You say this ain’t your fault, and you probably right. But it feels like your fault, and I get to be mad at you awhile if I wanna.”

“You don’t get to be mean to me, though.”

“That’s true,” Brendy said. “I can be mad without being mean. So. Anyway. Whatever.” She brushed some imaginary dirt off her right shoulder.

Perry turned away from the confrontation and tried to shut out the shouts and murmurs inside him. That hot-brained feeling was still with him. He hardly felt the chill wet of the fog.

Moses? Was that who he’d been when he touched the staff? The name had just tumbled out of him when he was yelling, and he wasn’t ready to reflect on what he’d seen. He didn’t feel ready to reflect on much of anything.

“Okay,” he said. “Dead taxi. Peaches. You called it already? I hate this nasty-ass fog.”

“You don’t call the dead taxi,” Peaches said. “It just show up when it supposed to.” She raised her eyebrows as she studied her grimy fingernails. “… But I tell you what, Brendy,” she said. “You might be mad about that rock of yours, but it smell like magic. Smell more magic than Perry’s sack, and Perry’s sack reeks of hoodoo.”

Brendy smiled sadly. Perry wanted to take her in his arms, but he knew she’d explode again if he tried.

Even as he had that thought, Perry heard hooves clopping down the street. The sound didn’t seem quite right to him, though. It sounded—not dishonest, not exactly—but like it was pretending to be hoofbeats so as not to worry anyone. Perry paused, ran that thought back through his head, trying to understand it.

Instead of emerging from the fog, the mule and carriage appeared all at once. But that wasn’t a mule, and that wasn’t a carriage. Perry was sure of it. The driver sat in front with the reins, and Perry felt that he, at least, was more or less what he seemed—a shabbily dressed man a few years older than Perry’s own parents.

“Ou vous allez, baby?” he asked, addressing Peaches.

“Department of Streets,” Peaches said.

“Montez,” said the driver. “Juneteenth Street and Tabbary Way.”

As Perry looked on, Peaches climbed into the carriage and reached down to lift Brendy aboard. He paused, unsure.

“It’s okay,” Peaches said. “I promise.”

Perry nodded, then swallowed and climbed on up.