Suddenly, the comedian Christopher, trying to make the grief bearable. “Maybe I’ll even die a glorious death before my time. Die young and leave a good-looking corpse. That would be something. Wouldn’t it?”

  Chapter

  XVII

  We were summoned to a meal. Breakfast, I figured, though there wasn’t a bowl of Shredded Wheat or a glass of orange juice in sight. David, Jalil, Christopher, and me. Etain, a royal visitor, was probably eating with the king and his court.

  Dark bread, meat stew, mushrooms. The entire meal was brown, including the ale and some other liquid that was supposed to be water. The meat was not bat — I asked — but I stuck to the bread and mushrooms.

  David ate silently and swiftly, his sword buckled at his side.

  Jalil spooned food into his mouth with one hand and made notes and sketches on a large sheet of thick, cream-colored paper with the other.

  Christopher had arranged one of every variety of mushroom in a circle on his plate. Fifteen mushrooms. It was a very large plate.

  “There’s a fungus among us,” he muttered. I didn’t laugh.

  He sighed. “Look, I am trying to be lighthearted over here. The least you can do is pretend to laugh. Okay? The woman I love is still in danger of being married off. I’m not in top form.”

  “Baldwin is a king,” I pointed out.

  “He’s a freakin’ dwarf.”

  “He does seem nice. Not mean and all. You should be glad about that, anyway. For Etain’s sake.”

  “Look, April, I’m not all moral and noble like you, okay? I’m a dog. I’m self-centered and of course I want Etain to be happy no matter what she decides to do with her life. But more than that I want me to be happy, with her, okay? End of story.”

  “I’m sorry. I want you to be happy, too. With Etain,”

  His smile was wobbly. “Thanks.”

  When we’d eaten all the earthy fare we could stomach, we were summoned to the throne room where we’d first met King Baldwin. He was going to give us his final decision. One look at his face, all grim and sober, and we knew what he was going to say.

  “I am sorry. But I, will not endanger the Great Diggings, my people, and my kingdom, by invading Hel’s domain. I deeply regret the loss of Princess Etain as my wife. And I appreciate the sacrifice she was prepared to make for her own people. I wish I could accept her noble gift but I cannot.”

  “Wait.” Jalil. “King Baldwin, please, I have something to show you.”

  Baldwin smiled wearily. “Is it great enough to change the royal ruling on this matter?”

  Jalil nodded. “Yes. I think it is.”

  Baldwin was taken by surprise. “Very well, then, approach “

  Add “tolerant” to a list of Baldwin’s good features.

  Jalil pulled a roll of what turned out to be drawings from his shirt and brought them up to the king.

  “I spent some time looking around your operation. You’re doing okay, but you could be doing a lot better.”

  Baldwin looked momentarily annoyed but nodded for Jalil to go on.

  “One: You’ve got plenty of coal, no problem there. But you’re not using it efficiently. I mean, you could be doing a lot more with it. You know King Camulos had electricity in his castle, right? Well, you can have it here, too, in DaggerMouth. I can build you a coal-fired electrical plant, light up everything. The tunnels, the workshops. You can have instant communication throughout the Great Diggings. Okay? Telegraph, first. No more hand-delivered notes. Better than that, I can build you a train, like one in Merlinshire, to carry the ore up from the mines in a fraction of the time it takes you now. Your entire mining enterprise will be two, three times more productive. That means more gold. Lots of gold. And I haven’t even gotten to the possibility of automating some of your manufacturing work.

  That’s down the line but it can happen.”

  Baldwin was sitting forward in his throne, hands on his knees. The guy was hooked.

  Christopher’s face was dark. “What the hell is Jalil doing?”

  he hissed. “He’s basically throwing my girlfriend at this guy….”

  “Continue,” Baldwin commanded.

  “Here’s the deal. I gave the fairies the telegraph. They transferred the technology to Merlinshire. Now they’ve got electricity. But neither the fairies nor the Irish humans have the dwarfs’ skill. There are hundreds, thousands of ways your kingdom can benefit from electricity. You can use it to push more fresh air into the deep wells or to pump water out. Look, from what I can tell you’ve almost reached the limit of your mining capabilities. I give you electricity, there are no limits.”

  “No limits,” Baldwin repeated in a low voice.

  “No limits,” Jalil confirmed.

  Baldwin paused for a moment before speaking. “I believe, perhaps, I made a hasty decision when I refused to support your raid on Hel. I have changed my mind. I will risk Hel’s enmity and commit my kingdom to the fight against the Sennites and that foul beast Ka Anor. My conditions are these: You…”

  “Jalil.”

  “Strange name, but you, Jalil, you will commence work directly on the first stage of your plan to introduce electricity to the Great Diggings. In the meantime, my men will begin construction of the tunnel to Hel. It will be ready by the time Merlin arrives with his magic and Queen Goewynne with her reinforcements. General Davideus will supervise.”

  Baldwin now rose from his throne and turned to face Etain, standing with a small group of female dwarf.

  “Fair Etain,” he began, “does your offer of marriage still stand? For it is the second of my conditions for this treaty.”

  “It does, good sir,” Etain answered.

  Baldwin held out his hand and Etain came forward to take it. Together they faced the room, Etain standing on the floor, Baldwin on the step to his throne, almost the same height this way. “May I present to you your future queen!” Baldwin cried out.

  I turned to look for Christopher but he was gone.

  Chapter

  XVIII

  Real-world April went to church but I left without going to confession. Without receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation, as it’s now called. When I got home there was an undercover police car in the driveway. I wondered if anyone is ever fooled by an undercover police car. They all look alike: bland-colored sedans, no trim, nothing to make them stand out, which, of course, makes them stand out.

  I walked up the drive, breathing the cold evening air. This is it, April, I told myself. It’s time for the greatest role of your life.

  Time for you to play innocent high school junior, stil ut erly puzzled about the several-month disappearance of her half sister. Sad but recovering, moving on.

  It shouldn’t be too hard, I thought. My parents and I had been feigning concern since Senna left home. We’d been deceiving the world and one another. What was one more harmless deception on my part? No, officer, I have no idea where Senna is right now. I haven’t seen her since she left home. Why, do you have a lead?

  But the police weren’t there to talk about Senna, at least not at first.

  My parents were sitting on the living room couch, very close, shoulders touching. When I got to the door of the room, my father stood and said in his gentle voice, “April, honey, these police officers need to talk to you about one of your classmates.”

  Then he sat back down.

  I stepped into the room and glanced wide-eyed at the two plainclothes detectives who stood in front of the fireplace. One held a small notebook and pen. They each wore a slightly rumpled but clean sports jacket, button-down shirt and slacks.

  Sears catalog. Nondescript.

  “Okay,” I said. I joined my parents on the couch, perched on the edge of the cushion. Give them nothing, let them ask the questions, April. Already I was thinking like a criminal.

  “I’m Detective Costello and this is Detective Hayes, Miss O’Brien. Do you know a boy named David Levin?” Detective Costello asked. The talker. The other one would take the notes.

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  “How well do you know him?”

  I shrugged. “Not well. He goes to my school.”

  “Is that all?”

  I pretended to think. “He’s in my grade.”

  “Didn’t he date your sister for a while, before she disappeared?”

  Well, duh, certainly not after she disappeared, I thought.

  Careful, April.

  “I think so. I mean, I heard they were seeing each other.

  Senna was very private.”

  “Was private?” There was a gleam in Detective Costello’s eye. “Yes,” I said. “When she was living here, at home. She was private.”

  “So you weren’t close to your sister. Miss O’Brien?”

  “My half sister,” I said. “No, we weren’t very close.”

  My mother put her hand on my arm, reassuringly

  “Are you aware, Miss O’Brien, that David Levin has not been at school all week?”

  Careful again, April. They might know you spoke to his mother. And why would you do that if you didn’t know him very well? “I heard he was out,” I said carefully. “From my best friend.

  She’s doing a social studies project with him; he’s her assigned partner. She was upset he wasn’t at school to help.”

  “Is that why you called his house and spoke to Mrs. Levin?”

  Oh, crap, it was going to sound lame but it was the best I could do at the moment. Especially with cold sweat suddenly cascading down my back.

  “Yes. I mean, first my friend called but Mrs. Levin didn’t really say if David was home. So I called, too. To help out my friend.”

  Detective Costello didn’t buy my story for a second. I could see the disbelief all over his face. Even I’d heard the falseness in my voice.

  “Miss O’Brien, is it usual for you to interfere —”

  “Detective Costello.” My mother. “My daughter and her girlfriends are very close. It is not at all unusual for them to help one another with their school work or drama club projects.”

  Detective Costello held up his hand as if to acquiesce, then shot me a look. My mother’s defense had shut him up, but he still knew I was lying. And he wanted me to know he knew.

  “Miss O’Brien,” he continued, “what did Mrs. Levin tell you when you spoke with her?”

  I pretended to think hard. “I think she said something about David not being home. Something about not having seen him around the house.”

  “Miss O’Brien, when was the last time you saw David Levin?”

  Here, in the real world, you mean? “Uh, I don’t remember, exactly. Sometime last week, I guess. Maybe in the cafeteria?”

  My father cleared his throat. “Look, officers, I really don’t see the point in your asking my daughter all these questions. She says she hardly knows the boy. And my wife and I can tell you that if this David Levin was involved with our daughter Senna, we didn’t know about it. Senna never brought any boy home.

  She was very independent.”

  Suddenly, I thought I was going to cry. I was doing a lot of crying these days. But I was immensely grateful for my parents’

  support. And immensely guilty about it, too.

  Detective Hayes closed his notebook and nodded at his partner.

  “Mr. O’Brien, let me be blunt.”

  Detective Costello stuck his hands in his pants pockets. I noticed the material was a little, saggy. “I think your daughter knows more than she’s telling us. About David Levin and Senna Wales.”

  I continued to stare at his pockets. This man was smarter than he looked. But my father believed me. He believed his daughter was telling the truth. Why shouldn’t he, when to his knowledge she’d never given him reason to distrust her.

  “Detective Costello, my daughter is an honor student and an active member of our church. She’s the last person to lie, especially about something as important as a missing classmate, and especially not to the police. Now, gentlemen, I’m asking you to leave our home.”

  They did. But not without pressing the point that if I suddenly remembered anything, anything at all about either Senna or David, any little incident that might help the police in their investigation, I was to contact Detective Costello immediately.

  I said, “Of course, officers, I will.”

  “Mrs. Levin is a single parent,” Detective Costello explained as he stood in the doorway. Night had fallen. “David is her only child. She’s very concerned. You’ll keep that in mind, won’t you?”

  “I will,” I promised.

  Chapter

  XIX

  When the police left, my mother asked me what I wanted for dinner. As if I deserved a treat after my ordeal.

  “How about I go pick up some Thai food?” my father suggested. “We’ll have a nice dinner together, try to forget that unpleasantness. What do you say?”

  My mother just nodded. She looked very tired.

  I said, “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m going out tonight. I already made plans.”

  He was disappointed. And I got the feeling that maybe he didn’t want to be alone with my mother right now. After all, Senna was his daughter, not hers, and all Senna had ever done was cause trouble. Even now, months after Senna had left, my mother was still dealing with police coming into her home -

  and questioning her own daughter, the legitimate product of a lawful marriage, about Senna Wales, illegitimate result of my father’s affair.

  But tonight I wouldn’t be the buffer zone. Tonight they would have to do without me.

  I had a date. His name was Trey and I’d met him at the Rave Cafe the week before while waiting for Magda to show up. He asked if he could share a table and I said, sure, but only until my friend came. We talked. He was twenty-one years old and a senior at the university. He was planning to go to business school for an MBA. At one point my cell phone rang.

  Magda was still at the doctor’s office. The doctor was running late. I said, no problem, I’ll see you tomorrow in school. Then Trey asked me out, for dinner at one of the hottest restaurants in town. I hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t the sort of place you went with your parents, and my friends and I had decided we probably wouldn’t fit in with the crowd, mostly twenty-somethings, being only high school juniors.

  I’d said sure, and that I’d meet him these. He didn’t offer to pick me up, which I appreciated. I hadn’t lied about my age.

  He had to be relieved not to have to meet my parents.

  Okay, this was a bold move. A date with an older guy, a guy about to graduate college in a few months, a guy who was into business and not the theater, that was huge. A date I hadn’t gone into specifics with parents about because they’d never have let me go, and I’d really wanted to. Not that I was in love with Trey or anything, I’d only talked with him for an hour, but…

  Well, I’m not sure why, exactly, but somehow it seemed important to meet him for dinner. I wanted the experience to be all mine. I just didn’t want to have to report every detail of the date to Magda and Becka and the others. I wanted to live it and then remember it, figure it out on my own, make my own decision about Trey.

  It’s just a date, April, I told myself as I finished getting dressed. But I knew it was more than that.

  I asked to borrow my dad’s car and he said okay. What trouble could his honor student, churchgoing daughter get into?

  I parked a block away from the restaurant. U Panino. I was a bit early, not too much. I pulled open the door to U Panino and walked purposefully to the hostess. She was slim and tall and dressed all in black.

  “Hi, I’m meeting someone here at seven,” I said.

  “Great. Do you see him?”

  The place was small. I glanced around.

  “No.”

  “Okay then, would you like to wait at the bar?”

  “Sure.” I smiled a sophisticated smile.

  I was in.

  Chapter

  XX

  Trey was three minutes late. Not that I was counting. We were shown to a small round table against an exposed brick wall. On the wall was a painting of a fig. A label listed the price as three hundred and fifty dollars. The fig was pink.

  We ordered appetizers and a bottle of sparkling water.

  Lime for me, lemon for Trey. He looked great, even older than twenty-one. I’m pretty sure his jacket was Armani or a very good knockoff. We ate bruschetta and talked easily. It was turning out to be a pretty good date.

  Until about halfway through the main course.

  “Oh… oh, my god, April?”

  Trey scooted his chair away from the table. The legs made a loud and unpleasant noise on the tiled floor.

  “What? What’s wrong?” I said. One minute we’re having a decent conversation. The next minute he’s looking at me like I’m some freak show reject. His eyes were wide, mouth opened, throat working.

  “Do I have something in my teeth, what?”

  Trey put his hand to his forehead. “I think maybe I’m sick. Or something. You, your face…”

  I knew. I touched my cheek anyway. My fingers met air.

  “Oh, God, you just, it’s not me! You’re, like, fading or something!”

  Trey looked like he really might be sick. By now people at the other tables were watching us. I grabbed my bag and mumbled, “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  And I ran, head down, out to the street. Tore down the block to my car, fumbled wildly for the keys, then locked myself in and flipped down the visor on the passenger side. Looked into the mirror there.

  Half a face looked back at me. A flickering and my left eye returned, went away, came back again.

  I watched, fascinated, until my entire face came back into view. Then I leaned my head against the steering wheel.

  It was finally happening. Real-world April was leaving home.

  After a minute I started the car and began to drive toward Christopher’s house. I needed to tell him it was finally happening to me. Then I would look for Jalil.

  It didn’t, of course, occur to me to go home. Or to cal Magda. I needed to talk without having to lie.

 

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