Part 24

I study the miniature version of us for what feels like an hour while Mary taps her foot.

“What are we waiting-“ She begins to ask, but I grab ahold of both her and Benny’s arms and yank on them, dragging them with me through the moving rocks, not stopping once until a curved wall stands before us, despite Freak Bean’s high pitched scream.  Hugging this outer wall, I glare at Benny, who shrugs in apology. 

I look to the left and then to the right but do not see an opening leading out of the chamber.  “So, which way?”  I turn my head toward Mary and ask. 

 “Are you crazy?”  Benny finally shouts, drowning out Mary’s response.

I look over Mary’s shoulder to where he now stands, huddled tightly against the wall, and say, “We were safe,” and it is my turn to shrug. 

“But how did you…?”

“If you would like to go back, I can show you,”  I offer but he shakes his head slightly.

“Didn’t think so.  Ok, which way?”

Mary looks in both directions and then points over my shoulder.

I pull a red marker from my pocket and try to make a mark upon the dark wall, but the color is not visible against the almost black concrete. 

“Here,” Benny says, reaching into a pocket and producing a white piece of chalk. As he extends his arm out to me, it comes in line with one of the passing rocks and gets clipped, the chalk launching from his grasp and curses flying from his mouth. 

I take a deep breath and jump around Mary after the car sized rock passes us by again.  “That’s going to be a nasty bruise,”  I say, looking at his elbow which has already begun to swell.  “I don’t think it’s broken though,”  I say, trying to be reassuring.

He cradles his arm against his chest, but moves closer as Mary crowds in behind me and hands me the chalk that she has managed to retrieve.

I use it to draw an arrow in the direction we are heading on the wall and then, waiting again for the massive rock to pass by, I resume my position in the lead and start along, keeping the wall at my right.  The car sized rock passes by us twice more, and we flatten ourselves against the wall each time it approaches, before we find an opening.

“This has to be the tunnel we came in,”  Benny says as I approach it.  I poke my head into the hole and have to agree. 

“This looks exactly the same,”  I say, watching the pebbles bounce across the floor.  I use the chalk and write the word ‘entrance’ beside the opening.  “You want to lead or do we need to swap?”  I ask Benny as we suck in our stomachs again to avoid the passing stone. 

“I’ll go first,”  He offers and begins to scoot along the wall, wincing every time his hurt arm brushes the concrete. 

One.  Two.  Three times I count the rock pass us before we get to the point where our arrow is drawn on the wall.  Benny waits for the large stone to pass us again and then turns to face us.

“What now?”  He asks and Mary answers before I can.

“Keep going, and mind the big rocks.”

Benny does just this and the rock passes us another four times.  I start to count the time between its passes when Mary blurts out “There,” and points at an opening a little further around the bend of the circular room. 

We continue our shuffle and, by the shaking of Freak Bean’s head, I know what I’m looking at before
I am even standing in the opening.  ‘Entrance,’ in my handwriting, is written in the same spot I had written it.

“Okay,”  Benny starts, and Mary cuts him off.

“I know, I know.  What now?”  She says with a hint of sarcasm before turning to me.  “What are we looking for next?”

I recite the lines in my head, but there is nothing beyond ‘through the walking rocks’ that I can recall about this part of the ordeal.  I begin to look around the small tunnel we are in, holding my sphere aloft as I get to its opposite end.  I inspect the wall closer, rubbing it with a corner of my long coat. 

“What is it?”  Mary asks, approaching.

“It says ‘Exit,”  I say, pointing to the familiar looking word.  I am pulling the chalk from my pocket when Benny draws the connection for me.

“That looks like-“  He runs back to where I had marked the passage earlier and calls back, “Yeah, did you write that?”

“Don’t think so,”  I say, but I go ahead and spell the word out below the original.

“You sure?”  Mary asks, looking at the two identical markings on the wall.

“I swear.”

Mary nods, “I believe you.  This has been weird enough already though.  What’s through there?”  She points past me.

I shrug, and pocket the chalk, peering past the illumination from my sphere, but seeing nothing, not even outlines in the dark beyond.  I extend my arm further, trying to force the shadows to retreat but am blinded by a bright flash of light.  I am still rubbing my eyes when I hear Benny.

“What was that?  Oh.  Oh, um guys?”

“What’s going on Benny,”  Mary asks from somewhere to my left.

“Did you guys see that?”  I ask as I finally am able to make out shapes again.

“Look out,”  Mary yells as she yanks me back into hallway, the Volkswagon sized rock careening through the space I had moments before occupied.

I stare blankly at the walking rocks, the word ‘Entrance’ written in chalk at my left.  “Benny, please tell me the word exit is down there now.”

“How’d you know?”  He asks, still standing where I had previously written the word ‘Entrance’ upon the wall.  “Um guys?”

Mary and I begin to prompt him for more information but the cavern beyond him has begun to glow red, casting a fire-like glow upon him, and everything else.

“The devil’s rib cage?”  Mary asks.

I shrug, “Only one way to find out.”

Part 23

I can feel the rumble in my teeth as we get close to where the hall should be.  It is obvious to me by the way they are rubbing their jaws that Benny and Mary feel it too. 

“What is that?”  Mary asks.

“Probably some processing plant or something,”  Benny says.

We round the final corner that the map says is between us and the Walking Rocks and I laugh.  The rumbling is causing pebbles to bounce across the floor.  I bend down and catch a few in my palm, where they sit, either well behaved, or completely inert.  I look around, we are in what may have been an old service corridor, there is a small branch off of the main tracks that ends not fifty feet from the junction. 

“Well, that was a bit anti-climactic,”  Mary says.

I dump the rocks back on the floor.  “Through the Walking Rocks it says,”  I recite what I had been told so long ago again.  “Well, here it goes.”  I walk through the room, feeling the rocks as they bounced against the side of my boots.  I make it to the other side of the tunnel, to where the tracks continue into a smaller tunnel.  The rumble gets stronger as I get closer to the smaller opening.  I hold my sphere aloft and immediately have to jump back, as a rock the size of a Volkswagen passes not five feet from me.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Mary says, stepping on many of the pebbles in her haste to join me. 

I look over my shoulder and watch Freak Beans eye the pebbles cautiously, walking across the room as if he was on a balance beam, cringing every time one of them touched his shoes.

The three of us stood on the brink of the real hall of Walking Rocks, our lights shining in and illuminating their sliding movements, the friction against the floor not seeming to slow them down. 

“That must be what’s causing the rumbling,”  Mary said, and then she holds her breath as two of the massive stones narrowly avoided colliding with each other.  They pass by each other, and I hear the scratching as their edges barely touch but it does not seem to effect their direction. 

We stand there, silently watching the rocks moving, trying to establish a pattern that will allow us to pass through the room. 

“Can you see the other side?” I ask, and Freak Beans shakes his head no.  “So this could be twenty feet or two hundred.”

“Is there a pattern?  I mean, are we just going to play Frogger?”  Mary asks and I can’t help but laugh at the apt comparison.

“I guess so, but there are no retries if we get eaten by the alligators.”  I say, winking at her.

“Or the piranha,” Freak Beans adds, scowling at me behind Mary’s back.

“Ok, I’ll go first,” I volunteer.

“No, we go all at once.”  Mary says.

“Fine,” I say rather than arguing.  “Next time this one passes,”  I say as the Beetle-sized rock scoots by again.  We wait a minute before the rock shoots back by us and we cautiously walk behind it, looking both directions as if we were crossing a street above. 

“This is surreal,”  Benny says, reaching out and touching a passing stone.  “They’re cold,”  He adds.

We make it passed two more without a problem before we come to a spot where, not only do the rocks seem to be moving faster, but there seems to be more of them.  I see a gap coming that I think we can rush through, like dodging traffic on a city street, but it brings the rock we are in the path of awfully close to where we stand.  I point it out to my companions, and they nod, although the looks on their faces show me they are having the same doubts. 

“One, two three…”

We dart out behind the next rock, and I feel the rock we had just dodged brush my coat.  We have to pull up short as the next one speeds past.  We charge through the opening in its wake and I look back over my shoulder.  I can see the hallway we came through in between speeding boulders, but looking forward I still cannot see another opening.

Mary pulls Benny and myself past the next rock and then the next, tugging us to follow her as she jumps in the space left by a third passing stone. 

I stop short, even as Freak Beans follows her, and have to jump to avoid a small watermelon sized rock that nearly takes my feet out from under me.  Once my feet are back on solid ground, I step forward, joining my two companions.

“It’s calm here, “Mary says, and I have to concur.  We appear to be at the eye of the spinning vortex of rocks, our entrance is now no longer visible, but neither is out destination. 

“Let’s catch our breath,” I say and sit down on the floor.  “Um, look at this,” I say, pointing at a circle of small moving rocks near my right foot. 

“Is that?”  Freak Beans says, watching a number of small rocks spin around three tiny pieces of wood.

“Only one way to find out,” I say as I stand up, my eyes still on the wood, and take a few steps forward, watching the larger rocks out of the corner of my eye.

“Yep,”  Mary says, as I nod, watching one of the pieces of wood shift in the same direction I just had.

“And we just came from over there,” I say, walking towards the way we had come in.

“And this must be the tunnel we came in through,” Mary says, pointing at a scratch in the ground.  It looks to be in roughly in the same spot I suspect our tunnel was, so I agree and begin searching for a similar scratch somewhere on the other side.

“I don’t see anything,” I say.

“Ok, so whats next then?”  Benny asks.

“Well, I guess we go out that way,” I say pointing toward the far wall, “And hope we find an exit.”

“And if we don’t?”

“We can always go back the way we came.”

Part 22

We have made it past the first three turns according to the map, and its accuracy of our path seems to still be holding up, although there are definitely more branches in the tunnels than it shows.

We enter into another long abandoned train station.  Abandoned except for the group with the large television cameras.

“Perfect,” I hear a female voice exclaim as I extinguish my orb and pocket it and pull my coat tight, concealing my blade. 

“Um, excuse me,” the female voice says.  It belongs to a rather obese woman in a fancy pants suit, far too high dollar to be crawling around in the dregs with us.

I glare at her, but she ignores it.  “Can we talk to you for a minute, you know on camera?”

Mary looks at the woman and tells her “No.”  Keeps walking.

“We’re doing a piece on the street people that live down here.”

“Street people?”  Mary asked, her nostrils flailing.  “What makes you better than me?”

I tug at her sleeve.  We have all been in her position and I try to stop the fury that is welling up from within.

“Come on,”  Benny whispers, tugging on her other arm. 

“I will not come on.  Just because you have a fancy suit and happened to know who’s ass to kiss and when to do it does not make you better than me.  Does not make you better than any of us.  I’ve made more real friends, people who have risked their necks for me, in the month I have been down here than I had my entire adult life.  These ‘street people’ as you call them are better than you.”

“Close your eyes,”  I hear Benny whisper, and I watch as his hand slips inside his coat.  I squeeze my eyes shut and slap a hand, a little harder than I had intended to, over Mary’s.

“Come on,”  Benny says again a moment later and I pull my hand from Mary’s face and open my eyes. 

Amidst the swears of the camera men, I run, pulling Mary along with me.  She allows herself to be dragged, although protesting loudly.

I finally convince her to be quiet, although I can hear the news crew coming behind us, there vision finally having cleared.  We take four quick turns, two rights and two lefts, in that order, before we are certain that they are not pursuing us any longer.

“What the-“ Mary begins.

I raise my eyebrows and place a finger before my lips.

She begins again, whispering.  “What was that?”

“I dialed it to eleven,”  Freak Beans says, taking out his sphere, which begins to emit an almost white light, slightly tinged yellow, like a piece of aging newspaper. 

“Do we know where we are?”  I ask, pulling the map from my pocket and peering at it.  I find the old station we had just left and begin to trace the path we took, but of course the turn off is not shown. 

“We’re somewhere over here,”  Benny says with a smile, pointing to a blank spot on the map.

“Thanks,” I say.  “So do we double back and hope we make the right turns, or do we see where this leads?”  I ask, pointing further along the tunnel we are in. 

Benny begins to make a small pile out of trash he find lying about the tunnel.  “Let’s continue on for a little bit.  We can always come back here,” he indicates the marker he has just made, “If we decide it’s not going well.”

“Sure,”  I say.

Mary is still mumbling under her breath.  I catch ‘Who did she think she was?’ and tell her to let it go. 

“But-“ She begins, but I cut her off.

“You are about to become a Princess.  The first Underground Princess at that.  Let them have their ‘street people’ if that’s what allows them to sleep at night.”  I wish I had more cigarettes, but I am trying to save the few I do.

“You’re right,” she says, and goes to stand by Benny.  “Let’s get going.”

Benny and I both hold our spheres, him in front and me bringing up the rear.  “This looks like an old barber pole,” I say, stopping at something jutting up from the ground.  I wipe some of the dirt and grime from it and smile.  “I’ll be, it is!”  I shine my light upon the wall, illuminating a tarnished brass sign for the Barber shop screwed into the white tile wall.  A rotting news stand sits beside it, amidst a pile of broken tiles.  “All that’s missing is a shoe shine box.”

Benny clears his throat from a few feet away, where he has shifted a pile of debris, mostly rotting cardboard.  “It’s right here.” 

I put my pack down, undo the top, and dig around for a minute until I pull out a red chisel tip marker.

“What’re you doing?”  Mary asks.

I ignore her as I hold my Sigil Sphere aloft, peering through it at the wall, where I begin to draw my own symbol, one box atop another, slightly skewed, an S in the top and a C in the bottom on an unbroken ceramic tile.

I walk around the corner and test my handiwork, appearing back where I had just been standing.

“Oh!”  Mary says, realizing what I have just done.  “Is that all it takes?”

I sag, catching myself on the news stand with an outstretched arm.

Benny rushes over and helps me to the floor.  “Yes, that is all he had to do, but it takes a lot out of us to do it.”  He scowls at me, “Do you really think now is the time for this?”  He waves his right hand at my handiwork.

“Just in case we need to come back this way for anything.”  I close my eyes for a moment and then struggle to my feet.  “Lets get going,”  I say, taking the lead.  We go another two hundred feet before we come to an intersection.  “Right or left?”  I ask.

“If it goes through, left will take us back to the tracks.”  Freak Beans says.

“Left it is,” I say and head down that corridor.  A large cat, black of course, scurries out of our way, a recently killed rat the size of my calf muscle, hanging from its mouth. 

“Careful, kitty,” Mary says, adding “I hear there are alligators down here somewhere.”

“Alligators?”  I say over my shoulder.  “Doubt it, but there’s piranha if you know where to look.”  Walking in front of her, she can’t see my smile.

Part 21

“Just about,” I say as I skirt around the pile of boxes and out the door again, heading for my own room and, more importantly, my cart.  I empty the cart out, looking for a box buried beneath it all.  Clothes, a sleeping bag, three blankets, a few useless trinkets.  A dog-eared engineering book.  Finally, I find what I am looking for.  I lift the long, rectangular box out of the cart and rip at the tape holding it shut.  Small, white balls of styrofoam fall out as I open it and reach inside.  The metal handle inside feels cold in my hand as I pull it out.  The blade, all two feet of it, is spotted with rust.  I reach back into the box and pull out a worn leather sheath.  I slip it onto my belt and slide the blade in.  The weight feels unfamiliar at my hip.  I look at myself in the broken mirror, the worn fedora atop my head, the brown trench coat, dry for now, hanging loosely from my shoulders, the sleeves hanging to the middle of my long fingers.  I could use a shave, a haircut, and a sandwich or two, but this will have to do I decide.

I bend over and begin to throw my pile of belongings back into the cart and think better of it, stuffing a change of clothes into my backpack and tying a blanket to its top with some cord that I find on one of my shelves.  I finish replacing my stuff in the cart and grab another blanket, heading back to rejoin Mary and Benny, locking the door behind me. 
“Here,” I toss the extra blanket to Mary, and hand her some more string.  “Just in case.  I’m ready when you are.”

“Ok, where do we start?”  Benny asks.  In addition to his cane, he’s added some tan fingerless gloves and a backpack of his own, a blanket hanging below.

I pull the map back out from its envelope, lay it on a crate, and locate the spot noted “Walking Rocks.”  Tracing it back with my finger, I look for somewhere I know but come up with nothing.
“Ok, let me try this,”  I reach down and pick up a small rock from the ground and place it where we want to go and then search for a place I recognize on the map.  “It’s been so long since I’ve looked at this…”

“Let me give it a shot,” Benny says, elbowing me out of the way.  “So this is where we want to go?”  He asks pointing to the pebble.

“Yeah,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And we are… Here,”  He says stabbing the paper with his finger.

I look over his shoulder, “Yeah.”

“Ok, so if we go out of here and left,” he traces the map with his finger, like a child doing a maze on a restaurant menu.  He has to backtrack a few times, but eventually he makes his way from where we are to the Walking Rocks.

“All right, can you do it again?”  I ask, wanting to make sure we do not make the same wrong turns he just did.  Fingertip to paper, he traces the route perfectly. 

“Yeah, we go out the door,”  He peers at the paper again, “Just to be certain,” he winks at Mary, “And head left.” 

Mary catches sight of the blade I am wearing and eyes it suspiciously.

“Just in case,” I say, followed by, “Follow me!”  I pull my Sphere from its pocket and hold it aloft, casting the blue glow out the doorway.  I take a deep breath, “Here it goes,” I say as I exit the room, bring the soft blue light with me.

We hear rats and other creatures scurrying from the light, and the going is easy.  We make it about five hundred feet, our starting point lost in the distant gloom behind us before I manage to trip on something.  My sphere goes flying out of my hand, landing a few feet away amongst the muck.  I get to my knees with the help of Benny and am looking for a surface to wipe my hands on, when I see Mary bend over to scoop up my sphere.

“No!”  Benny and I shout at the same time, but it is too late.  I do not have enough time to cover my eyes and am blinded by the flash of light.  Rubbing them, I stumble over to where Mary now lays, unconscious.  I check her pulse to make sure that is all, and smile weakly when I feel the beat of her heart. 

“Benny, help me,” I say, grabbing her arms.  He grabs her feet, and we half carry, half drag her to the wall, where we prop her up into a sitting position.  While we are waiting, I retrieve my sphere and use my handkerchief to wipe it down.  Half an hour passes while Benny and I make small talk, mostly trying to figure out if we really think that what we are doing is a fool’s errand or not. 

Finally, Mary begins to stir.  Holding her head, she asks “What happened?”

“Well, I guess I should have explained that before.”  I tell her.  “No one can touch a sigil sphere without the Prince handing it to them.  It’s a protection built in to keep the people from trying to take them by force.”

“I see,” She said as she began to brush herself off.  “Anything else I need to know about the spheres, you know, before I have one of my own?”  She looks from me to Benny, and I silently shake my head at him while she is not looking at me.

“There is a kind of, I don’t know getting to know the sphere, process,”  He says and I sigh.

“Attunement.”  I tell her and she turns to face me.  “We’ll discuss it if we find one for you.”

“When!  When we find me a sphere.”

Part 20

“I’ll go,”  Freak Beans says, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish of his hand.

“Thank you Benny,” Mary says, taking a step toward him.

I reach out and grab the map.  “I’ll hold that, but I’ll go, sounds like fun, and besides, some of the notes on this thing,” I wave the sheet of paper, “Are mine.  Rush, you coming?”

“No, I will stay and keep eye on Cyrus.”  He takes another swig from his flask and manages to avoid coughing this time. 

“Suit yourself,” I say and clap him on the shoulder with my free hand. 

“So where are we going?”  Mary asks.

“My best guess would be to try to find the Black Bazaar, Lampman always talked about the place like it was still around.”  I say.

“And where is it?”

I close my eyes, trying to recall what Lampman had told me so many years before.  “Through the Walking Rocks, past the end of the tracks.  Out beyond the Devil's Rib Cage you will find the Glass Shore, the waves grinding the brown and green bottles against each other until the shards are no larger than grains of sand.  Find the path into the water and walk the way, across the underground ocean.  Through the lightless tunnel you will find an island and upon that island the Black Bazaar.”  It comes back to me and I find myself smiling.  “Sounds like we have some walking to do.”

“Ok,” Benny says, “Let me go get a few things and I will meet you back here in two hours time.  I suggest you get some food together, this is going to be a long trip.”

Both Mary and myself cover our eyes as Freak Beans blinks out.

“I’d better be going too,” Rush says, adding “Good luck, tovarishch.”  He winks at me and nods at Mary before he too is gone.

“What’d he say?”  She asked.

“He once told me it means friend.  I sure hope so.”  I look away from her to hide the worry on my face.  “Do you have a stash of food or anything somewhere?”  I ask, still looking away.

“No… you do?”

I ignore her question for now.  “What about money, do you have any?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls a wad of crumpled bills out.  “Will this do?”

I reach for it and think better.  “How much is it?”

She straightens the cash as best she can, “Seven dollars.”  She pats down her pockets.  “No, eight!” She produces another scrunched up single.

“It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.  Come on, we’re going shopping.”  I take hold of her empty hand and concentrate on my own sphere.

We appear in the alleyway behind a Fairway and make our way to the front.  Upon entering, I can feel the eyes upon us, but I ignore them and grab a basket.  First stop we walk to the small bakery.  “Do you have any day old?”  I ask the tattooed man that eyes me suspiciously.

Soundlessly, he points toward a bin on a nearby shelf.  I look over the loaves and throw one in the basket.  My next stop is the canned goods.  “Well?”

I pick a few cans of my own while I watch her struggle to decide between mushrooms and asparagus.  She finally decides on the mushrooms and hands the can to me.  I put it back on the shelf.  “Will you eat those cold?”

“But your sphere can start any-“

“Start, yes, but if we don’t have anything to burn, starting the fire will be the least of our concerns.”

“Oh,”  She grabs a can of baked beans and a few cans of cocktail weenies. 

I grab a can of Spam.  I count the items in my basket, mentally tallying the total.  “Do you have a water bottle?”

“No,”  She hangs her head. 

“Don’t worry,”  I say, leading her toward the kitchen gadgets aisle.  I find her a pink one, which she wrinkles her nose at.

She picks a purple one off the shelf and throws it in the basket.  “Anything else?”  She asks.

I pick through our basket, “No, I think we’ve got all we need for now.  Come on.”  We walk up to the check out lanes, followed by an older man whom I assume is the manager of the store.  Waiting behind a middle aged blonde woman, her child sitting in the seat of the cart, I grow bored and begin to make faces at the boy.  He sticks his tongue back out at me and his mother turns around.

“Can I help you?”  She growls.

“No,” I say and wink at the boy.  He giggles, and she turns on him, but he is fast and manages to maintain a straight face the entire time they are being checked out.  As they pull away from the counter, I wave at him and he waves back, earning me another glare from his mother.

“That will be fifteen thirty-two says the freckled brunette holding the scanner and smacking her gum rather loudly.  I reach into my pocket and pull out my own wad of cash, counting out three fives and a single, handing them to her.  Mary opens her mouth to protest but I ignore her as I receive my change and am handed the four bags of groceries.  We are watched by the hawk-eyed manager as we make our way out of the store.

“How rude!”  Mary exclaims as we the doors slide shut behind us.  “You should have blinked us out while we were still inside, gave them all something to think about.”

I smile. “Come on,”  I tear off the label and the price tag from the water bottle, using the water spigot on the side of the grocery store to fill it up, dumping the first full bottle on the ground.  I fill it a second time take a sip, spit it out and dump it again.  Repeat and the water tastes better.  I screw the lid on and place it back in the plastic bag with the rest of the canned goods.

“Now what?”  She asks.

In response, I hand her two of the grocery bags, freeing my left hand, which I use to fetch my sphere from it’s pocket.

“Now we find you a bag.”  And we appear in the stone room, deep beneath the streets above.  I set down the remaining two bags and tell her to wait here.  As I walk down the old corridor toward the room I call my own, I pull the chain from around my neck.  I unlock the door when I get to it, and sigh as my gaze falls upon the bed.  I can feel it calling to me but I ignore it, instead going to my cart, which I had pushed in after my visit to Old Jenny.  I dig through the clothes and find an old green-brown JanSport bag and check it over for holes.  There are a few but none that I am too worried about.  I keep looking and come across a second bag, a red and black plaid number with a brown stain along its bottom.  It is hole-less.  A little more digging and I find a thermos of my own.  I use the Sigil Sphere and I am back behind the Fairway.  I again use the faucet to clean out and fill my bottle before I blink back, surprising Mary in the process. 

“You couldn’t have walked back?”  She asks, rubbing her eyes. 

I hold my bottle up in response.  I hand her the plaid backpack.  “Fill this up.”  I say and begin to fill the green-brown one with the canned goods. 

“Are you going to take my money?”  She asks as she zips the bag shut around the loaf of bread sticking out its top. 

“Not now.”

“Then when?”

“Lets get through this and we’ll talk money then.”

A bright flash has me rubbing my own eyes.

“You guys ready?”  Benny asks, tapping a black lacquered cane upon the ground, the steel tip grating upon the old stone.

Part 19

I look to my right and am relieved that Mary appears to be in one complete piece.

Benny leans over and smiles at me, “Man, I’m glad you picked here.”  

I smile and shake my head.  Looking around, I realize I am weary of this room.  It is just as Mary and
I had left it a few days ago, cardboard boxes piled high against the walls.  I kick the metal box beside me and it hums to life, as do the Christmas lights it powers.

“So, she’s a witch?”  I ask, turning around and expecting to find the Russian behind me. 

He does not disappointed.  “With capital W.”

“And the snake?”  I shudder at the question, recalling the creature slithering from Catherine’s scarf.

“She’s a witch,”  Rush says, and spits on the ground beside himself for emphasis.

“But we’re safe now, right?”  Mary asks, looking each of us in the eyes.

I nod, as does Benny, but the Russian shrugs and snorts.  “She’s a witch…”  He looks to me and winks.

“So…”  Mary says.

“So,” Rush flashed his yellowing teeth in what could only be described as a sneer, “An Underground Princess?”

I am proud of her.  She stands her ground.  “I guess so.”

The sneer stays upon his face as he takes a step toward her.  “Princess Dairy Mary, I see it now.”

The sound of her slapping him echoes off the damp stone walls.  She inhales sharply and attempts to shake the sting from her hand.  Benny and I both step in front of her, forming a barrier between the two but it is not needed.

Rush is laughing, “That’s my girl.  Now you may call me Rush too.”

I sigh and step back to the side but Benny does not move.

“Benny, calm down,” I say, wanting to see how this plays out.  He looks at me, then at the Russian, and finally at Mary, who nods before he finally backs down.

“So, there are five missing Princes.  I know that Tibault was found dead by authorities and his family has Sphere now, but I know not where they are.”

“And Andreus’ Sphere is rumored to have shattered when he was pushed off that bridge.”  I add, trying to remember which bridge it was.

“That leaves Demetrius, Khaos…” Benny starts.

“No, Khaos’s sphere was taken by Christof.”  Rush interrupts.

“Ah, yes, sorry.  So Demetrius, Lampman, and…”

“The Bird Man,” I say, bringing our quintet to a close.  I scratch my chin, the stubble just long enough to itch.  “But which one will be the easiest to find?”

“Easiest? This not about easy.  If you want to find needle, you search haystack.”  Rush says, pulling a flask from his grey corduroy coat.  He unscrews the lid and takes a sip, coughing as the liquid burns his throat.  “Lampman!”

“What about him?”  Benny asks.

“I remember story he once told me.  He found the Glass Shore.”

“I’ve heard the story too,” I say, adding “And it wasn’t just the Glass Shore that he had found, but out in the underground ocean he found a passageway, and beyond that an island.”

“Wait, Glass Shore?  Underground ocean?  What are you guys talking about,” Mary asks.

Benny looks at me and it is my turn to shrug.  He begins, “Back during the rule of Samual, Cyrus’ ancestor that is,” he added, cutting off the question that had formed on Mary’s lips.  “It was rumored that he, he being Samual mind you, traded across an underground ocean that broke upon a shore of glass.  The tales suggest that there was some form of bazaar-“

“The Black Bazaar,” Rush says.

“Yes, the Black Bazaar,” Benny says and then continues, “across the ocean that Samual sent agents to to trade.”

“And you think The Lampman-“ Mary begins.

“Lampman, not ‘the,’ just Lampman,” I say.

“Ok, you think Lampman found this Glass Shore and the ocean, and the Black Bazaar.”

“It’s possible,” I admit.

“And you think that’s going to be the easiest Sphere to find?  What about Demetrius, or… or was it The Bird Man?”

“Last I spoke to Demetrius, he was talking about hopping a train to and heading west.  We could head west.”

“And The Bird Man?”

I look away and shake my head.  “No, he’s out of the question.”

“Why?” She asks.

“Leave it,” Benny says, but she does not.

“This is my future we’re talking about.”

“The Bird Man is in an asylum upstate.  He killed some man for killing his birds.”

“Oh, so he’s not dead?”

I shake my head again.  “No.”

“Ok, so Lampman it is.  Anyone know where the Glass Shore is by chance?”

I smile.  “No, last I heard Lampman talk, it was out passed the end of the line a ways.”

“I remember him talking about the constant thunderstorm that must rage overhead at the end of the line and how he could never find the storm when he went looking. And pipes!  He talked about pipes a lot.”  Freak Beans says.

“But the end of what line?”  Mary laments.

“I don’t know, but this might help,”  I say as I pull the envelope I picked up at the library from my within my heavy coat.  I unseal the clasp that holds the packet shut, reach in and pull out an ancient piece of paper, browning with age, and gently unfold it, setting it upon a carton for everyone to see.  

“Where’d you get that?”  Freak Beans asks.

“I found it,” I say without looking at him directly.  I use my fingertips to smooth out the paper, a map of the old subway system with numerous hand written notes scribbled all over it.

“Where?”

“Now’s not the time, Benny,” I say, looking it over.  “There!” I jab at the brittle map.  The others huddle around me.

“Where?” It is Mary’s turn to ask.

I move my finger, revealing a scrawl almost smudged away by time.  “I remember something Lampman said before he disappeared, something about the path to the Glass Shore led through the ‘Walking Rocks, and through the Devil’s Rib Cage.’”

Rush leans closer, “Yes, I think you’re right.  ‘Walking Rocks’ it says.”

“Ok, who’s with me?”  Mary says, picking up the map.

Part 18

The silver scarf hangs loosely about her neck and I can barely make out the tip of a tattoo, maybe a snakes forked tongue, poking above the fabric. 

“You must be Dairy Mary,” she says, her voice nasally and her words clipped.  She follows this with a forced smile, revealing porcelain-like teeth.

“Yes, and you are?”  Mary responds, trying to maintain an air of confidence.

“You can call me Catherine, or Cat if you must.”  She turns and peers down her beak-like nose at me.  I stand my ground and glare back, resisting the urge to look away.  She blinks first and glance at Freak Beans, who refuses to make eye contact with her.  As she turns back to Mary, her scarf slips down, revealing that the tattoo is indeed a snake.  I blink and I swear the snake moved. 

“Well Catherine,”  Mary says, “What can I do for you?”

Again with the blinding smile.  “I just wanted to meet the object of my Cyrus’ affections.”

“Your Cyrus?”  I ask, and the snake does move, slithers up her neck until I can see it’s entire head.  As if I am watching a 3-D movie, the snake peels away from her neck.  I shudder as I watch the snake taste the air with it’s tongue.

“Yes, he’s my, partner of sorts.”  The snake climbs further out of her coat, coiling about her neck and left shoulder.

“You can’t go in there!”  I hear someone shout out in the hallway and a moment later, the Russian bursts into the room and shoves Catherine.

“Come on!”  He says and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the room.  Benny does not need to be told twice and falls in line behind us.  I watch over my shoulder for Mary, who appears a moment later.  We run deeper into the hospital and Rush jerks me into an unoccupied room, followed closely by Freak Beans and Mary. 

Giving the door a kick, it closes behind her.  “What was that all about?”  She asks, but the Russian cuts his eyes at her, pulling aside a time-stained curtain and revealing a ladder mounted against the wall leading up to the next floor.

“Up!”  He says and pushes me toward the ladder. 

I look over my shoulder at him and he motions with both of his hands for me to get moving.  I begin my ascent and he herds my other companions into the corner and drops the curtain back into place.  As I poke my head into the room above the ladder shakes and I look down to see Benny right behind me.  I turn my attention back to the room I was entering.  A layer of dust coats almost everything, save a path from the ladder to the closed door.  A rusting metal rack lay on it’s side on the floor near me.  I climb out of the hole and into the room, coughing as I kick up some of the dust.

“Shhh!” I hear from below.

“What happened back there?”  I hear Mary ask again.

“Go.  Up.”  Rush says.

“Not until you tell me what that was about.”

“Nyeht.”

I can imagine him shaking his head.  I scramble further into the room as Benny climbs off of the ladder.

“Bah!” I here the Russian say.  “I do not trust witch!”  All is quiet for a few seconds and he joins us.  I look down through the hole and my head almost collides with Mary’s as she ascends. 

“She’s a witch?”  Benny asks, standing up and dusting himself off as he walks toward the door.

Rush nods.  “Yes, and she’s his witch.”

“It’s locked,” Benny says, his hand still on the doorknob. 

The Russian tilts his head slightly and pulls out his Sigil Sphere.  “Are you Prince?”  He asks, then adds, “Back to the tunnels.”

I close my eyes, but can see the bright flash of light through my eyelids.  I open them and he is gone, leaving Benny, Mary and myself. 

“What was that all about?”  Mary asks again, ignoring the choice before her. 

I begin fishing my own sphere out of a pocket and I see that Benny is doing the same.  I hear Cat’s voice somewhere below us, “I just wanted to say ‘Hi.’  I was hoping we could be friends.”  She shouts. I hear a door open below us, but no further noise.

“Come on, we’ve got to go now,” I say, holding out my hand so Mary can take it.  Benny does the same.

“Ah, there you are,”  I hear the metal grating against metal as the curtain is pulled aside in the room
we had just exited. 

Mary grabs both of our hands and as we all disappear, I hope that Benny picked the same tunnels I had to transfer us to.  The last thing I see as we blink out is the head of the snake appear through the opening in the floor.

Part 17

I searched for three days with no signs of either Benny or Mary.  Well almost three days, I spent the rush hours at my usual corners, earning enough to get by.  Finally I hear word of Benny having been seen entering the old Saint Vincents Hospital and finish my afternoon on the corner, netting another twelve dollars, most of which I promptly spend on a toasted meatball sub, one of the few delicacies I allowed myself on the rare occasions when I am feeling confident. 

Wiping marinara sauce from the corner of my mouth, I catch a glimpse out the window of Cyrus pushing a shopping trolley down the street, a middle-aged red headed woman walking beside him.  She wore a red wool coat and a silver scarf and not once did she look in my direction.  I watch Cyrus’s mouth move, wishing I could read lips, and she laughs politely.  Quickly I gather what few possessions I have with me, mainly my gloves, a threadbare black fedora and my long brown coat, throw my trash away and dart outside.  I look in the direction they had gone and do not see them, run to the corner, but they are gone.

I duck into an alley and pull my Sigil Sphere from my pocket, rotating it until the image of a spot near the hospital appears within, and I am there, the two boxcars with my initials in them painted onto the side of an old tenement building in Hell’s Kitchen.  Two blocks later and I’ve pulled on my gloves, donned the hat, and am standing before the run down structure that once hosted the sick and now serves as a hotel of sorts to the poor and infamous.  I bypass the front door, eyeing it’s padlock and laughing to myself.  The side door is boarded over with fresh plywood, holes drilled to accommodate a small metal chain that served to hold them shut.  I knock on the wood, three sharp taps followed by a pause and then a fourth and then step back.  Both doors swing open like some giant walk-in freezer, the pins removed from the left hinges and the wood and chains holding everything together.  A man, dressed in a tattered brown suit and grey fingerless gloves smiles a gap-toothed smile at me and says “Come in.” 

I oblige, stepping past him and into the small room beyond.  I ask a woman seated at… I hesitate to actually call it a desk, but it was a few crates stacked atop each other, “Have you seen Freak Beans,” and she points me to a room, after I hand her two fairly clean one dollar bills.  As I walk down the hallway, I can clearly make out Mary’s voice.

“So, Charlie and the Russian have both told me that only seven Princes remain, what happened to the other five?”

I turn the corner just as Benny starts to answer.  His top hat is on the bed and his scalp is peeling in places, the few remaining black curls hanging on for dear life, pressed firm against his dark skin.

“Where have you been?”  I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, completely drowning out Benny’s response to Mary’s question.

“I needed to think.”  Mary answers, looking me directly in the eye for the first time that I can recall.

“About?”  I ask, but I know the answer.

“What Jenny told me.”

“And?”

“She’s right,”  She pauses and before I have a chance to prompt her, she continues.  “I do know what I need to do.”

She is smiling as I ask, “And what exactly, is that?” 

“I need to become one of the Underground Princes,”

Benny’s jaw hung open, and noises I hear outside of our small room seemed to grind to a halt.

“What?”  I ask incredulously.

“I need to find one of the missing Princes and take their Sphere…”

“I’m not sure it works that way,” Benny says as he picks up his hat and places it, slightly crooked, upon his head with both hands.  His Sigil Sphere is in his hands as she utters her next sentence.

“I could always kill one of you and take yours.”  Her serious facade breaks and she laughs.  At any other time, the sound would have been beautiful. 

I laugh nervously along with her.  I glance at Freak Beans, who is eyeing the glass orb in his hand.  “Wait,” I tell him and realize how thin the walls are as the noises in the hallway resume.  I lower my voice, “Benny, hold on.  I just saw Cyrus again.”

“What happened?”  He asks, setting the sphere in his lap.

I take a few steps further into the room, bringing myself within a few feet of him and whisper, prompting Mary to join us.  “He was with some woman, a red head in a red coat, ring any bells?”

Benny’s eyebrows furrow, and he removes the top hat, scratches his head, and replaces it.  “No, how long ago was this?”

“Twenty, thirty minutes ago, tops.”

“Do you think he’s found someone else to be his bride?”  Mary asks, the corners of her mouth turning up.

I shake my head, “That’s not the impression she gave me.”  I look at Mary and quickly add “But I did not talk to her or anything so I could be wrong,” when I saw her frown.  “They walked by where I was eating.”

“Wait, did she have a tattoo of a snake coiled about her shoulders and neck?”  Benny asks animatedly, using his hands to indicate the ink reptile’s position. 

I close my eyes, trying to picture the woman in reds neck but all I can see is her scarf blowing in a wind I was sure I was imagining.  “I… I don’t know.  Who is she?”

“Her name is Samantha and she’s been trying to take over our corner of the world for a while now.

“You almost done in there?”  Comes a female voice from the other side of the door, followed by a heavy knock.  “You only payed for six hours, and that was up fifteen minutes ago.”

I open the door and am stiff armed aside as the woman in the red coat and silver scarf pushes her way inside.

Part 16

I step through the doorway looking over my shoulder, back towards Old Jenny, and run into something.  I snap my head around and get a mouth full of Mary’s hair.  It all happens in that moment.  I blink, trying to dismiss Cyrus from my vision, but in that instant when my eyes are closed, Freak Beans and Dairy Mary disappear.  I open my eyes and Cyrus is still there, acne scars and all.

“Nice to see you again Charlie,”  Cyrus says. 

Tall, probably six foot two, I find myself looking at the bridge of his crooked nose.  I lift my gaze, meeting his steel blue eyes with my own.  I break first, taking a step away, my back coming up against the door.  He smiles, snorts, and takes a step to the right.  I take the opportunity to step away from the wall, turning as I do so and so does he, like some obscene dance.  “How can I be of assistance Cyrus?”  I ask him.

He runs a hand through his stringy, shoulder-length brown hair, “That woman,” He nods at where Mary had stood, “is she with you?”

I am acutely aware of the wind whistling from his nose with each exhale as a couple of answers run through my mind, starting with what woman.    I decide upon a more smart-ass approach though, not my brightest idea.  “Apparently, she’s with Freak Beans.”

His flesh stings my cheek, the crack of his hand slapping me echoing back from the grey concrete walls.

“Boys, if you are going to fight, take it to the Graveyard,”  Jenny shouts from within.

He motions for me, “After you,” he says with a sinister smile. 

I reach into my pocket, and he grabs my arm. 

“You’re not leaving yet, are you?  Things were just getting interesting.”

I pull away, pull my hand out with a cigarette .  He lights it before it has made it to my lips.  I watch as the smoke curls away from my mouth, wondering where the breeze is coming from. 

“You know what I want, do you not?”  He says, straightening his blue dress shirt.  Half the buttons are missing, exposing the greying undershirt beneath clinging to his thin frame. 

“A queen,” I reply, blowing a stream of smoke towards him and watching it float away on the unseen breeze.  “But why?”  I ask.

He snorts.  “Control, what else?” 

“But what about the curse?”

“Do you think some paltry curse scares me?  I am destined to be the king down here, as my ancestors were before me!”

“What?”  I say, coughing on the smoke I had just inhaled.  I toss the cigarette aside, listen to the sizzle as the glowing tip lands in the small rivulet of filthy water that runs down the center of the tunnel. 

“Where do you think the Spheres came from?  My great grandfather used to be the King, but that was too much for some people and that witch-“

“I can hear you you fool.  Both of you get in here,” Jenny yelled. 

I immediately do so, turning my back to Cyrus, pulling the screen door open and entering Jenny’s again, letting go of the door behind me, not paying attention of Cyrus’ location.  I smile as he curses when the door swings shut on him. 

I seat myself in the same chair I had occupied a few minutes prior and look at the old woman, who appears to have not moved, despite a cup of steaming brown liquid in front of her.

“First Cyrus, lets make sure you are not omitting anything.  Your great grandfather Samual was a tyrant, demanding taxes from those who had none to give, roughing them up when they failed to pay.”  Jenny begins her own tale and I lean back, trying to ignore the whistling coming from two chairs over, where Cyrus sits.

“Yes, but-“ Cyrus starts, but Jenny holds up a hand and stops him.

“You started this on my front lawn and now you are going to let me finish it!”  She lifts the cup, a beige ceramic mug with at least two large chips missing from the rim, takes a sip and smiles as the steam hits her face.  “Your great grandfather, and his whole brood for that matter, were nothing but a bunch of bullies that held sway over this domain through fist and blade.  And then they met their match.  Twelve men rose up from beneath the tattered clothes they wore, broke the chains that held them as nothing more than servants to Samual, and those twelve men took back their freedom with fists and blades of their own.  And as they stood over the expired form of their oppressor, they vowed that a time such as that would never come again.  It was then that one of the twelve, a man everyone only knew as Father, produced the Sigil Spheres from a burlap sack upon his back.  He gave one to each of his companions, keeping the final one for himself.  He told them of the powers they held in their hands, and also told them of the curse, that if one of the twelve should ever rise up and take a newly fallen queen, the powers would be extinguished, and that darkness would fall over the land, as another time such as the reign of the tyrant Samual would be upon them.”

I looked from the calm face of Old Jenny to Cyrus’, who was trying to hide a smirk.

“And you believe all of that, do you?”  Cyrus asked.

The old woman cackles, “You began to say it yourself out there.  ‘That witch…’  That Witch what?  That witch conspired with the Father to take Samual down?  That Witch provided the very blade that caused the mortal wound to your great grandfather?  Or how about That Witch made the very orbs you cling to, the very power which you try to manipulate day in and day out so that you can regain the throne your ancestor once held.  I can see through you, Cyrus Adair!  And I will oppose your very existence if I have to!”

I look back at Old Jenny, trying to process what she has just said, and am blinded as Cyrus uses his own Sigil Sphere to disappear.

“It is no matter, Mary knows what she must do now,”  Old Jenny smiles her gap-toothed smile and I am left to wonder what that is.

Part 15

Old Jenny sits hunched over behind her spool-table, eyes closed again, silently shuffling the cards to the beat of the drums emanating from unseen speakers.  Finally the song stops, and so does she.  She sets the cards down on the table.  “What is it you seek from me?”

“Um, you summoned me, didn’t you?”  Mary asks.

Jenny snorts, “I did?  Then by all means, you’re free to go.”  The old woman chuckles, wipes a bead of sweat from her brow.  She stands up, her hunched back almost parallel to the floor.  She grabs a cherry stained cane that until that moment, had leaned against the table.

Mary glances at me and I shake my head.  “Wait!  I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t sure what to expect,” she says.

“Well then, what is it you want from Old Jenny?”  She raps her knuckles against the deck of Tarot cards before she takes her seat.

“Go ahead,” I say, my voice nothing more than a whisper.

She takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the answers.  “Why me?”  She asks.

This draws another laugh from Jenny.  “Oh, honey, look at yourself, even beneath the dirt and grime, you’re a looker.”

Mary scratches her cheek, looks at her fingernails, shudders.  “Ok, why should I…”  She pauses, looks my direction again, “Why should I trust any of you?”

Jenny opens her mouth to answer and then closes it.  It is the crone’s turn to look at me, and I can feel myself being read, from cover to cover, as they say.  I shift uncomfortably.  Finally, as if she’s put my life story down on the table in front of her, she looks back to Mary, “He wants nothing of Cyrus in charge.  Freak Beans-“  She raises her voice, “You might as well come in here Benny, I hear you shifting restlessly out there.”  She winks at Mary as Benny comes in, doffing his top hat and placing it under his right arm.

“Sorry ma’am, this kinda effects all of us, I didn’t think she’d mind.”  He says.

Jenny looks at Mary who nods, “He’s fine.”

“As I was saying,” the old woman continues, “Benny here wants to see Cyrus fail because he doesn’t like Cyrus, and Viktor… Let’s just say that if Viktor can’t be in charge, then no one should.”

“Viktor?”  Mary asks.

“The Russian,” Freak Beans says and I nod.

“And you?”  Mary asks Old Jenny.

Jenny smiles, her cracked lips pulling tightly across her remaining yellow teeth.  “Me?  I’m just an old woman.  I want nothing more than to sit here and listen to my music and enjoy what time I have left on this planet.  I don’t care who is in charge as long as they don’t hassle me!  Though I fear Cyrus would do just that.  So how are you going to stop him?”

“Wait, what?  I thought I was asking the questions.”

“Well then,”  She taps the deck of cards on the table before her.  “Cut the deck and ask.”

Mary reaches for the Tarot cards, her hand pausing a mere inch from the deck, fiercely aware that the old crone’s eyes are on her.  She takes a deep breath and cuts the deck, almost in half, re-stacks and squares them.  “What should I do?”

Jenny draws the top three cards and lays them out in a row, face down.  It is then that I notice that the backs are different, the cards are from different decks.  She flips the first one over, revealing a couple dressed in what I can only describe as wealthy Mongolian.  Four cups lay scattered about them, a fifth cup in the man’s hand, turned over, the few remaining drops of whatever liquid the cup once held frozen in time partway to the floor.  I note a cat hunched over one of the cups as Jenny begins.  “The Five of Cups.  This card represents your recent past, maybe as close as when you walked through my door.  I hate to say it dear, but you need to accept it.  Denying it will not change the fact that you are… one of us.”

Mary raises her eyebrows, the skepticism evident on her face.

“The Five of Cups typically reveals itself when the asker is having trouble accepting change, such as you ending up homeless.”

The next card reads eight of swords across the top and a pale tan border rings a man who is fending off three medusas to his left and a giant wearing a crown, no, it is the sun god, to his right.  Eight narrow swords stand, point down in the ground around him, forming almost a cage.  “You know what must be done, don’t you?”  Jenny asks.

Mary’s eyes widen.  “No, I couldn’t.”

“You’re the only thing stopping you.  Charlie there will help you out, and I’m sure Benny will go along just to say he was part of this.  He used to be a writer you know, this is one grand adventure I doubt he wants to miss.”  Jenny winks at Freak Beans as she reaches for the last card.

“Wait,” Mary cries out, and then looks down into her lap, ashamed of her sudden outburst.  “That card represents the future, right?  What if I don’t want to know?”

Jenny pulls her hand away from the face down card.  “Dear, the future happens whether you want it to or not.  I’ll tell you what.  I won’t be needing that card for a while.  How about you take it with you and you can look at it when you’re good and ready.”  She pulls an ancient piece of newspaper, yellow as her teeth, from where it is stuck to the wall, tearing one of the corners in the process and folds it into an envelope.  Without lifting the card, she slides it into the newspaper and hands the package to Mary.  “There you go.  Just make sure I get it back!  Now if there is nothing else, it’s time for my nap.”  Closing her eyes, she is snoring almost instantly and the three of us, Mary, Freak Beans, and myself rise to leave.  I am holding open the door for my companions when Jenny calls out, her eyes still asleep.  “And Charlie, I would like another speaker if it’s not too much trouble.”

Part 14

“What happened here?”  Mary asks as she tiptoes across the bones.  A pile shifts, the bones rattling against each other as they settle into their new locations.

Something squeaks in terror nearby and I see a snake slither off out of the glow of my light.  “Circle of life I guess.”  This way.

We walk through a narrow tunnel, bones piled knee high down both sides, forcing us to walk in the inch of muddy water that runs down the center.  The walls are covered in a green-brown slime that seems to ooze from the ceiling.  I concentrate on the steps ahead and still manage to stumble, my hand slipping in the slime when I throw it out to steady myself.  “Ugh,” I say, looking at the water and debating whether I’d end up dirtier if I tried to wash it off.

“How far is it to Jenny’s?”  Mary asks as we turn another corner.

“Not too much further,”  I say, indicating another turn, down another small tunnel.  The mounds of bones lessens the further we get from the where we descended, and now only occasionally does she shiver as bones crack underfoot.  Three more turns and she is glancing over her shoulder at me.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks.

”Definitely, it should be right around this corner.”  I point to a bend in the passageway some fifteen feet in front of us.

“No, I mean coming here.”

“Oh.  I’m not sure we have much of a choice.”  I admit, shrugging my shoulders, causing the light from the Sigil Sphere to bounce along the walls.  At some point, the green-brown slime had disappeared, and I notice tool marks in the wall.  “I hope she doesn’t eat the stuff,” I say out loud.  We reach the corner and I stop before rounding it.  “Are you ready?”  I ask her.

She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders.  Head held up high, she nods.  “Let’s go.”

We turn the corner together.  A wooden wall has been constructed from scraps and is propped against the wall, blocking one of the side passages.  A screen door hangs askew from a pair of rusted hinges zip-tied to the wood.  Zydeco music emanates from within.  A porch has been crafted from pallets and resting on one of them is a rocking chair, currently occupied by a familiar face, underneath an equally familiar stovepipe hat.

“Benny!”  Mary’s eyes light up and she speeds up, reaching the man before I do.

He too, is smiling as I reach them.  “Freak Beans,”  I nod politely.  “What brings you here?”

“Just paying my respects to the old lady.  You?”

“Same,”  I tell him, but I am certain he does not believe me.

“Very good,” He nods, winks at Mary.  “And you Miss, what do you hope to gain from a visit to the witch?”

“I heard that!”  Comes an ancient voice from within, shouting to be heard above the music.

Freak Beans smiles at us and talks over his shoulder. “I meant it in the best possible way, Ma’am.”

“I’m sure you did.  You better keep it that way!”  The old voice from within shouts back. 

“Did you bring her anything?”  He whispers.

I admit, I had not even thought of it, but the look of panic on Mary’s face speaks volumes.
“Bring… her… anything?”  She asks.

Freak Beans laughs.  “It is fine, I must have something,” he begins to pat his jacket, starting at his shoulders.  “Ah, these will do perfectly!”  He says as his hands reach his pockets.

Mary holds out her hand without looking at what Benny has and is rewarded with a handful of mashed potatoes.  “Um…”

“Perfect,”  I say, winking at Freak Beans.  I open the screen door and give Mary a push, shoving her through.  I let the door swing shut with a loud crash as I step in behind her. 

Jenny is seated at a large wooden spool turned on its side, the words McCoy Electric stenciled upon it in black.  Her eyes are closed as she sways to the music.  Her ebon skin is dry, her lips are cracked and peeling, and her hair is filthy, having once been dreadlocks, it is now more or less a mane. 

We stand just inside the door, waiting for her to acknowledge us.  Mary looks at me and I shake my head.  She looks down at the potatoes in her hand, and pulls a large piece of lint from them, letting it fall to the floor.

“Well, don’t just stand there.  Have a seat.”  The ancient voice from earlier emanates from the slight woman. 

“Umm, we brought you these.”  Mary says, extending her hand.

Jenny sniffs the air, having yet to open her eyes.  “Ah, potatoes.  You didn’t get those from Benny did you?”  She chuckles and slides a bowl toward us.

I stand quiet, remembering my first, nervous encounter with the witch.

“Erm, yes, I did.  I’m sorry, if you don’t want them…”

“Oh hush girl, give Ol’ Jenny those, I’ll eat them whether they’re from you or from Benny, or even from that fool Cyrus.  Food is food, I always say.”

“Yes Ma’am,”  Mary drops the potatoes into the bowl and pushes it back towards the crone. 

Jenny grabs the bowl and ravenously devours the dish, licking the bowl clean.  “Subway Charlie, I hear you breathing, are you going to say ‘hi’?”

“I’m sorry Jenny.  Hello.”  I nod, and laugh at the motion.

“Sit!”

We do, the crates scrape across the concrete ground.  I pull out the tarot card and set it in front of me.

“Ah good, you brought it back to me.  I was hoping you would.”  She finally opens her eyes.  They are milky white, the cataracts completely formed.

Mary gasps,  “I know someone who can,” She catches herself, “Knew someone who could help you see again.”

Old Jenny laughs.  The raspy sound emanates from her stomach.  She only stops because she descends into a coughing fit.  “Dairy Mary, I can see fine, why else do you think you came to me?”

Part 13

I pull her along with me as we weave around a broken table, heading toward a pair of swinging doors.  I stiff arm them and they crash open, revealing a long, dark hallway that leads off to our right and left.  From past experience, I know that the left leads to another theater and then a fire exit, while the right leads to the concessions and the main lobby.  We race right, the doors swinging wildly behind us.

“Stop!”  One of the three men calls out, followed by another crash as they come through the swinging doors. 

Mary looks over her shoulder, redoubles her effort, begins to pull me.

“Theater four,” I huff and she glances at the numbers above the doors that line the hallway.

As we pass theater three, its door swings open and out walks a muscular hispanic man in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a yellow hard hat.  The look of surprise vanishes from his face as he catches sight of the three men chasing us.  He shouts something in Spanish over his shoulder and pulls out the large hammer that is hanging on his belt.  Our pursuers try to go around him but he swings his weapon, causing the three men to pull up short.

I stop at the door to theater four and watch as they begin to spread out, try to encircle our would-be savior.  They have just about succeeded when five more construction workers pour from within theater three.  I chuckle to myself and push my way in beside Mary who is standing just inside the doorway.  The theater looks nothing like the one we have just exited.  For one, the sconces in the wall are all freshly polished.  The wallpaper appears new and even the screen is white and pristine.  Stacks of new seats line both of the side walls, waiting to be installed, the plush red cushions still wrapped in plastic.  Another hispanic man rests in one of the chairs, his hard hat pulled low over his eyes.  I motion for Mary to follow me and we move towards the projection booth.  My heart drops when I see the new door and the even newer hardware.  I hold my breath as we approach, hoping that the door is unlocked and let it out slowly as the door clicks open before us.

“What was that?”  Mary looks at me as I close the door behind us.

“More like who, and I don’t know, but we need to hurry.  Pretty soon the winners of that fight are going to come looking for us and I don’t want to be here when they do.”

“But, why were they just standing around in there, I mean, why hadn’t the workers cleared them out before?”

I shake my head, “I don’t know.”  I kneel down, begin prying at floor boards.  “Help me, there used to be a hatch that went into the sub-basement in here.”

I can feel the look she gives me, but she complies and pretty soon, she lifts the corner of a slat of hard wood about an inch off the ground.  I stick my hand in and a section of the floor lifts up, revealing a square hole and a ladder leading down.

“Down there?”  She asks and I nod.  She protests, but a noise from the other side of the door sends her scrambling down the ladder and into the waiting darkness below.

I follow closely, letting the door drop back into place above my head, shutting out all light completely.  I hear a slight whimper below me.  “You okay?”  I ask.

“Yeah, it’s just dark.”

“As soon as I have a hand free, I’ll get the orb out again.”

“Where are we?”  She asks as I bring the sphere to life, revealing barren concrete walls.

“It’s storage for the theater.  Through here.”  I indicate an opening in the wall that leads us into another empty room.  We pass through two more rooms, all of them empty, before coming to a final room, a pallet of boxes labeled popcorn set against the far wall.  I push the boxes, grunting as the wood grates across the concrete floor, revealing a metal door set into the wall.

I hold the Sigil Sphere up to the door and it opens without as much as a squeak, revealing a small room with another ladder set into the floor.  I pocket the sphere and descend deeper underneath the theater, followed closely by Mary.

As I step off the ladder, something crunches beneath my feet.  I have the sphere out and glowing again by the time Mary is standing beside me. 

“Welcome to the Graveyard,”  I tell her and she screams, staring at the corpses of thousands of rodents heaped beneath our feet.

Part 12

Mary is gone as well.  The door to my room is standing slightly ajar, and she is not inside. 

“Son of a…”  I begin and exhale.  Deep breath in, deep breath out.  Looking over the door, it seems to be, well, it has not been in one piece in years, but it does not appear damaged any further.  Peering into the room, I discover it is much as I left it, although the bed does look a little more ‘lived in.’

Switching off the lights, I flip the lock on the door and close it, making a mental note to grab my other key.  On the way back to my cart to do so, I poke my head into both bathrooms, hoping to find her, but not expecting to.  Neither am I disappointed. 

I set the still glowing sphere on a crate and dig through my cart, finding the chain in a pocket of my other pair of jeans.  Pulling it out, I hang it about my neck and tuck the key into my shirt, stifling a yawn with my sleeve.  Sleep calls to me, invites me towards its warm embrace, but I decline.  Who knows what I would wake up to?

Rubbing my eyes I grab the sphere and head out into the main corridor.  Left or right, she had to be walking, unless someone came and got her.  I push that thought from my mind.  There seems to be a pin prick of light at the far end of the tunnel to my left, the right one is pitch black.  Left then.

“Mary!”  I yell out, and am greeted by a thousand echoes as it bounces off of the concrete walls, reverberates in the air.  Waiting a few moments after the cacophony dies down, I hear nothing but the drip drip of water.

I sigh and, holding the sphere aloft, the cold blue light casting shadows of broken stone and dumped belongings against the walls, head down the tunnel.  Things hidden by the darkness scurry away, their squeaks and squeals of protest startle me at first.  Zigzagging through the tunnel, I avoid puddles of stagnant, fetid water and wonder about how a car, an old Cutlass by the looks of it, managed to make it so far underground.  A worn pair of boots stuck in the mud catches my attention and I tug at them.  A loud squelch accompanies there liberation, sending me sprawling on to my butt.  Now that they are free, they look too small so I toss them off to the side, hoping to pick them up later, trade them for something.  I look around for some kind of marker, some kind of landmark and make a note of an oddly shaped piece of concrete leaning against the wall.

Glancing over my shoulder, I am greeted by nothing but darkness beyond of the glow the orb casts.  I start at my own shadow stretched out behind me.  Draw in a deep breath, steel myself to go on.  Moving forward again, I note that the distant light is still no bigger than a pin prick.  I trudge on, afraid to call out any more, regretting that I had in the first place.

Another hundred feet and I trip over a piece of the broken subway rail and stumble.  I hear a startled sob to my left.  “Mary.” I hiss.

“Charlie?  Is that you?”  She calls out.  I move toward her voice, find her sitting, back against the wall, shoeless.  “I’m sorry,” she cries.

“Where are your shoes?”  I ignore her apology.

“They’re back there,” tears drip from her eyes as she waves back the way I had come. 

I look at her feet, cracked and bleeding from the rough tunnel floor.  “Ok.  You stay here, I’ll go get them.”  I hear a final sob, followed by a long sigh as I walk away, leaving her again in darkness.  I find the piece of concrete I had noted earlier, locate the boots and bring them back to her. 

Her hands tremble as she slides them on to her feet.  She stands up and winces at the pain, but shrugs my steadying hands away.

“Where did you think you were going?”  I ask her, trying to keep the edge of irritation, and fear, out of my voice.

“I was going to find Old Jenny.”  She squares her shoulders, takes a step toward the distant light.

I cast my eyes toward the ground, “Um, Mary…”

“What?”

“I’m not, not sure what’s in that direction.  Or the other for that matter, I only ever come down here via the Sigils.  I leave by them too.”

She curses under her breath, “So what are we waiting for, use the sphere and let’s go see her.”

“It’s not that easy, I can get us close, kind of…”  I watch her shoulders slump slightly but her head snaps back up.

“Ok, do it then.”

I find the right spot on my sphere, looking past the glowing light, and again the world drops away.  The walls appear to melt into the floor, which seems to bubble for a moment, change color, become the remains of what was once a brilliant red carpet.  The walls are rebuilt brick by brick before us, and soon they too are covered in a dark carpeting.  Chairs appear scattered on the floor before us, a few broken tables mixed among them.  Three men look at us from one corner before turning back to whatever they were doing.  A torn screen took up three quarters of the wall behind them  What might have been bronze light fixtures hung on either side of the screen underneath a thick green patina.

“Where are we?”  She asks, drawing another glance from the three men.

“The King’s Theater.  There is a passageway down to the Graveyard in here.”

“The Graveyard?”  She asks, looking around the room, her mouth open.

“Yes, now let’s go,”  I grab ahold of her arm and pull her along as the three men break from their huddle, pulling switchblades from inside their black leather jackets.

Part 11

I came seeking information.  What I got was not what I had bargained for. 

“Wait, you drew that?  Let me see it.”  I reach out, take the card from him.  I examine the wheel closer.  Sure enough, almost hidden in the shadow of one of the wooden spokes, is my brother's signature.  “I’ll be damned.”

His long fingers snatch the card from me, “You may already be.”

“What do you mean?”

Jason takes a sip of tea, lets the steam caress his face.  “What are you going to do?”

“About what?”  I file the ‘you may already be’ comment away for later.

He cocks a bushy, greying eyebrow, tilts his head slightly.  “About her.”

“How’d you know?”  I ask, quickly glancing around the room.

“Relax, I read the cards this morning.  Why else would I have answered the door this late?”

“Sorry.  Should’ve guessed.”  I bring the hot liquid to my lips, drink.

He sets the card on the table in front of him, tilts his chair back, opens a drawer and pulls out a small pouch, along with a sheet of paper.  “Cigarette?”  I nod and he grabs a second piece of paper out.

While he is rolling the cigarettes, I pull out the Sigil Sphere and play with it, let the orb roll back and forth along the top of my fingers.  I take the cigarette when it is offered, light it with the sphere, doing the same to his before he can get the lighter out of his pocket.

“How did you…”  He begins, but I interrupt.

“You first, tell me about your reading.”

“All it said was that you would be stopping by tonight and that a woman was somehow involved.”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow and cock my head.  I pull the book out of my coat.  “I’ve been doing some reading, I don’t think I’m getting the whole picture.  What did you mean earlier, that I might already be damned.”

“I, I don’t know now.”  He takes a long drag, holds the smoke in his mouth for a second, his thin lips tightly sealed.  Opening wide he lets it billow out.  My brother sees the disappointed look on my face and continues.  “I drew the Magician also, and I thought it had something to do with an adversary, but with you doing that,” flustered, he waves his hand, “trick with the fire, I’m not so sure.”  Jason pauses for a sip of tea and another puff from his cigarette.  “Your turn.”  He smiles, his crooked teeth yellow-brown from years of smoking

I nod.  “I’m a Prince,” I begin and immediately he laughs.

“Wait, so I’m supposed to believe…”  He stops as I stand up, push my chair in.  “Wait, I’m sorry.  Sit back down.”

I glare at him but concede, take my seat.  “There were twelve of us at one point,  I believe there are only seven remaining.  I was given this title down below, in the sewers.  I came across the Troll King, he was hiding beneath a heap of boxes, dying of lung cancer.”  I chuckle as I take another drag of my own from my cigarette.  “He handed me this,” I nod toward the glass sphere, “and told me that I was now one of the Underground Princes.  I had no idea what it meant then.  I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what it means now…”

“So, do you have subjects?  Do you have a kingdom?  Do they pay you tribute?”  His questions come rapid fire.

I snort at the last one.  “Tribute?  Remember who these people are.  What they have.  No, my main role is as an arbiter.  I hear grievances and settle disputes.  As for your other questions, kind of.  It is up in the air right now.  With five of us missing, we need to carve up the city again, but we can’t agree how.  Besides…”  My thoughts drift to the possibilities of Cyrus running everything.  “I’m sorry to have involved you in all of this Jason.”  I say and down the rest of my tea in one long gulp.

“In all of what?” He asks.

“The less you know…”  I tell him as I stand.  I grab the library book and the tarot card from the table.  “This card can’t be a coincidence, I need to figure out what it means and how you fit in all of it.”

“Wait!”  He says, holding up a finger, but my eyes are already fixed on the orb.

“I’ll be in touch.  Close your eyes,”  I tell him, and I am gone.

Part 10

Change.  It’s inevitable.

I think that is what Old Jenny was trying to tell me with the Wheel of Fortune.  Or maybe that it was coming and I needed to stop it?  If so, what was the change?  Everything I read said the change should be good, unless the card was reversed.  I try to remember how Mouse was holding it when he handed it to me. I can not.  Or maybe the card meant nothing…

I stand up and stretch, pull my Sigil Sphere from my pocket and begin to roll it around in the palm of my hand.  Absently, I bring the cup to my lips, downing the last few drops of the now luke-warm liquid. 

I leave the coffee shop and duck into the next alley, the book again under my coat, despite the fact that the rain has stopped.  In the little streetlamp light that reaches me, I locate my destination within the sphere and blink.

The sign in the store’s window says ‘closed’ but I knock anyway.  It takes four minutes, but finally I see a light come on in the back of the store.

“Coming.  I’m coming,” A man in his late forties hobbles into view, the lettering on the glass window partially obscuring him.  I can hear the thunk of his cane as it strikes the wooden floor with his every step.  His face lights up when he sees me through the glass door.  He turns the lock and lets me in.

“Charles!”  He says, wrapping both of his arms around me, his cane hitting my shoulder.

“How are you Jason?”  I ask.

“Fine, fine.”  He releases me and takes a step back to look me over.  “You look good,” he adds.

“Thanks,” I smile.  “How’s mom?”  I ask, and he looks at me shaking his head.

“You know, she’s fine.  Dad too.”

“Have you told her?”

He sighs, “No.”  He walks further into his store, past a row of oddly sized jars with labels such as eglantine, fennel, and jasmine.  “If you’re not going to tell her you’re homeless, you could at least come stay with me.  We can put a cot in my office, you can sleep there.”

“Look, Jason, we’ve been over this before, you can barely afford to support yourself as it is.  If you take me in we’ll both be living on the streets in months.”

“We’d make do…”  Thunk, thunk, creak, he walks across the floor, the floorboards groaning with age.  “Would you like some tea?”  He offers shaking his head at my refusal. 

“Sure.”  I follow him across the store, bumping into a shelf and catching a glass skull before it crashes to the floor.  I reseat it upon the small marble pedestal it had previously occupied.

“Nice catch, that.”  He says, smiling.  We pass through a doorway and follow a flight of stairs up to the loft he keeps above his shop.

“So, hows business?”  I ask him as he sets the tea kettle to boil. 

“It’s been pretty steady recently.  I’ve already got next months rent and utilities covered.”

I nod as he pulls an airtight container from his cupboard.  “Look, I should have been up front with you when you opened the door for me.”  He opens the container, the smell of the tea with a hint of mint and lavender, wafting from within.  He pulls two small pieces of cloth from a drawer and spoons some of the dried spices onto them.  He folds each one up and ties them off with small piece of ribbon before dropping each into a mug.

“Look, Charles.  My homeless brother shows up on my doorstep after disappearing almost a year ago.  I know you want something, you’re not in trouble or anything are you?  Are you on drugs again?”

I shudder at the thought of what the heroine had done to my body, thinking back to the wreck I had been then.  “No, nothing like that.”  I pull the tarot card from my pocket.  “What do you make of this?”

He takes the card, flips it over, stares at the black back, and then flips it again.  “Where’d you get this?”

The kettle whistles but he ignores it, still staring at the card.  I get up and pour the hot water into the mugs.  I try to hand him one, note the slack-jawed expression on his face and set his mug down next to him.  I take the other and tell him that it had been given to me earlier in the night.  “What do you make of it?”  I ask.

”Where’d you get this?”  He asks again, more forcefully.

“I told you, it was given to me earlier.  What’s the big deal?”

“I drew this nearly twenty years ago.  It’s from the first deck I made.”

Part 9

The tarot card tucked firmly in the inside pocket of my coat, I head east.  I make it three more blocks before the rain begins to fall.  By the time I make it the final four to my destination, I am soaked, standing outside of the public library.
 
Drip.  Drip.  I walk into the lobby, water soaking the carpet beneath me.  I stand there, ignoring the look the librarian gives me.

“Um, sir, we’re locking up in a few minutes,” she tells me.

“Thanks.  I’ll be less than that.  Do you mind if I leave my jacket up here?”  I ask as I slip out of my brown trench coat, revealing a pair of torn blue jeans and a black t-shirt that once read…  Hell, I don’t know, it was faded when I got it.  I hang the coat on the back of a chair and slosh to the back of the building, follow the bookshelves, simply labeled ‘Poetry,’ to the left.  There, covered in dust, is what I seek.  The old wooden drawers are stained brown, the labeling for the old Dewey Decimal system faded.  I count drawers, five right and three down.  It takes a little effort, the tracks stiff with disuse, but the drawer finally slides out.  I pull it farther, until it stops and I lift it out, setting the drawer, yellowing cards and all, on top of the card catalog.  I reach in to the hole, feel around, my hand finds the envelope I knew would be there.  I replace the drawer and walk back towards the entrance. 

I pass by an aisle of shelves labeled ‘New Age’ and a thought occurs to me.  I turn into the corridor, lined by books on chakra and chi, divination and mysticism, finally finding the section I am looking for.  I grab the first book that looks promising and head to the counter.  I take my coat from the back of the chair, dig through its pockets and find my library card, the same one Ive had had for years.  The librarian, still eyeing me from behind a pair of horn- rimmed glasses, scans my card, and the copy of Learning the Tarot I had picked up.

I shrug the trench onto my shoulders, use it to guard the book as I step out into the rain.  I reach into my pocket, pull out a handful of change, count it.  Just over three dollars.  Should be enough for a cup of coffee, and a warm place to sit for a few minutes.  I walk west, back the way I came and the rain lets up, but the wind still pushes me along.  I duck into the doorway of a small corner coffeehouse I had passed earlier.  The sound of an acoustic guitar assaults me, a nasally voice accompanying it.  I shake my head, ignore the music, and order a small coffee from the teen behind the counter.  I count six hoops through her right ear and one in her lower lip.  When she hands me the cup, I hold out the handful of change and she waves me off.

“He’s buying all the drinks while he’s on stage,” she eyes the young man sitting with the guitar dreamily.  “Isn’t he great?”

I nod, still ignoring the music, and take a seat in a wingback chair, setting the coffee on the table in front of me and pull the book from my beneath my coat.  I take a sip of coffee, silently cursing as it burns my tongue.  I open the tome and settle back into the chair.

Part 8

My cart was where I left it so I took a moment to compose myself before I used the Sphere to bring me back to the soup kitchen.  Rush still sat where we had left him, calmly finishing the food I had left behind.  “Jenny wants to see her.”  I told him as I approached.  “I think,” I added for good measure.

“Bah!  Witch is useless.  Where is Dairy Mary?” he asks, sopping up the last of the mashed potatoes on my plate with a crust of bread.

I study him carefully.  “She’s safe,” is all I give him.  Watching him eat makes my stomach growl so I look out the window to distract myself.  The sky is dark and full of clouds.  The rumble of subway cars has been replaced by thunder. 

“What happened after we left?” I ask him.

“Cyrus walks in, sees you leave, and leaves himself.  You causes quite a stir leaving like that you know.”

I dismissively wave the comment away and he laughs.  I cast my eyes around the room.  There are a few faces I recognize, even more I don’t.  “I have a request,” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.  I wait long enough for the buzzing conversations to quiet down.  “I need someone to ask a question of Old Jenny for me.”

“Do it yourself,” someone calls out as I sit in the same chair I had occupied not long before.  I wait, ignoring the look, one full of spite for the witch and questions for me, that Rush gives me.  It does not take long before a small, thin man, barely a man at that, makes his way to my table.

“I’ll d-d-do it,” he stammers.

“And who are you?”  The Russian asks.

“M-my name is Mark,” he responds.  This causes the Russian to laugh.

“But Mark, you are meek as mouse!  Do you really think you can talk to witch?”  He lets out a hearty laugh.  "I shall call you Mouse!"

The young man manages a half smile before turning to me. “I’ll do it.”  He says again.  “I can go see Jenny, what is it you need?”

I look him over, his nose twitches.  I laugh.  “Mouse it is,” I proclaim loud enough for the tables around us to hear.  I lower my voice.  “Someone left me a message on the board.  I need to know if it was from her or not.”

“It was,” he replies.

Rush grabs ahold of Mouse, “How do you know?”  The Russian growls.

“I put it there,” Mouse squeaks.

The Russian glances at me and I nod.  He lets go and Mouse stands there cowering. 

“I-is th-there anything else?” he asks.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a dollar bill, hand it to the man.  “No.”  He takes it and snakes his way through the tables, leaving the building .

The Russian glares at me, “You are too generous.”

I laugh at this, “But I am royalty!”  This elicits a chuckle from him as well.

“So what is plan?”  He asks.

His tone causes me to pause.  What if I was right, what if Cyrus made a deal.  I decide on caution.  “I don’t know yet.”

“Then what of witch?”  He asks, flashing a brown smile.

“Again, I don’t know.”  I tell him and stand up.  “I am sorry old friend, but I have other business to
attend to now.

“Farewell friend,” he waves.

I leave the kitchen and the wind bites through the heavy canvas coat that I wear.  Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating the street long enough for me to tell it was empty.  A peal of thunder sets off a car alarm a few blocks away.  The rain has yet to start as I turn my collar up.  Better be safe than sorry.  I walk a block east and turn around at the sound of a voice calling my name.

“Um, excuse me?”  Mouse says.

I look him over.  He really is thin.  “How old are you kid?”  I ask.

“Almost eighteen,” he says.

“You’re an idiot,” I snap back at him.

“W-what?”

“Where’re your parents?”

“Maine.”

“Why are you here Mark?”  I decide to switch tactics, use his real name to try and put him at ease.

“I didn’t want to work in the mill.”

“So you came here looking for an opportunity.  And you think this,”  I hold my arms out, “is better than working in the mill?”  I bite, my tone harsh again.  “Go home.”

He scowls.

“Mark, I’ve been on the streets for almost half my life.  If I had somewhere to go, I would.”

“But…”

“But nothing.  Did they beat you?”

“Who?  Oh.  No.”

“Then go home!”  I growl.

He cowers, reaches into his pocket.  “She told me you would come back, and that I should give you this.”

I take the card from his outstretched hand, look at it.  A wooden wagon wheel is inscribed upon the card, the letters T, A, R, and O are drawn at the compass points, and the words Wheel of Fortune are embossed in a banner across its bottom.  “What’s this mean?” I ask, turning the tarot card over in my hand, revealing nothing but black upon its back. 

“She said you would have to come to her to find out.”

“Why didn’t you give me this earlier?”

“I was afraid of the other guy…”

I smirk.  “Ok, I don’t want to see you around here again.  Get on a bus tomorrow and go home, or as soon as you can afford one.”  To emphasize the point, I hand him another dollar.  “Now get.”

He disappears into the shadows, leaving me contemplating the card in my hand.

Part 7

 I miss half of her story while I contemplate the note I still hold.  I start listening again when she brings up Cyrus trying to stab her in the subway a few weeks ago.

"That was the last day in my apartment.  I had been out of work for three months by then, maxed out my credit cards, pulled in all of the favors I could.  It didn't help."

I interrupt her, "So you're saying Cyrus attacked you on your first day on the streets?  How'd he know?"

"I don't know."  She says.  "Is it important?"

"I'm not sure."  I open the note again.  Read the four words written on it.

She looks at me, checks her pocket.

“It fell out when you got your tissue,” I tell her.

Her mouth forms a silent ‘oh.’  Then, “What's it say?"  She asks and I hand her the note.  She takes it, her fingers brushing mine.  She starts at the contact, a sharp intake of breath, before looking at the note.
 
Bring her to me.

"Who's it from?"  She asks, her lips moving as she rereads the note.

“My best guess?  Old Jenny.”  I open my mouth to say something else, but a train passing overhead drowns out any conversation.  She shivers, whether from the damp, subterranean air, or out of fear, I can't tell.  I pull out a metal barrel hidden beneath a large cardboard box and set it in the middle of the room.  I throw the box, and a few others that do not look too moist, into it and use the Sphere to light it.

She moves closer to the snapping and crackling, bringing a crate with her to sit on.   “How does she know about…”  Her mouth moves a few times the words stopping themselves before they come out.  She finally ended up with “Me?”

“That’s why I think it’s her.”  I say, trying to plan my moves out.

“I, I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”  I try not to be condescending, unsuccessfully.

“Now look here,”  she shouts, standing up from her crate.  The flames cast shifting shadows on her face.  “I did not choose any of this, and you’re the one that grabbed me!  How do I know you’re not the…”  More tears and sobbing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.  Jenny has a touch-“ I pause, trying to find the right phrase, “of the sight.”  I fish around in my cart and pull out an almost clean handkerchief, hand it to her.

She blows her nose in it, wipes the tears from her eyes.  “You mean she can see the future?”

“We think so, I mean she predicts things.  Like that.”  I point at the note she still holds.

“So are you going to?”  She asks, taking a seat again and reading the card.

“Not just yet.  I have a few things to attend to first.  Plus, you look like you could use some rest.”

“You mean sleep here?”  She looks around.

“Not quite,” I say, pulling the necklace that hangs around my neck out of my shirt.  “Follow me.”  I grab the Sigil Sphere and walk towards the pile of boxes that hides the opening to this room.  We emerge in an abandoned subway station.  I can hear her heavy breathing behind me as she follows.

As we step away from the open doorway we came through, the light from the fire fades, so I call upon the Sphere once more, holding it at shoulders height.  It glows feint blue, illuminating our surroundings.  Broken tiles, one of which I kick and listen as it skitters across the floor.

We walk along the platform, I count the doors as I pass them.  Two broken bathrooms, the porcelain inside destroyed, and an office of some kind.  It is the fourth door that I want.  The original wood is rotten through and covered by the boards I have used to patch it.  The key slides in easily.   It opens with a slight creak and I slip inside.  The heavy breathing follows.  “You can sleep in here,” I tell her as I flip a switch.  A dozen strands of Christmas lights, green, red and white, blink on, revealing a small room, maybe ten feet to a side.  A mattress occupied one corner, an old dresser with a cracked mirror beside it.  A shelf lines the closest wall, covered in books.

“But, the lights, how?”

“I wasn’t always homeless.”  I finger one of the books on the bookshelf, Electrical Wiring Commercial 11th Edition.  “I’m the only one with a key.  You get some sleep.  You can lock the door behind me.  I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Here?”  She asks, looking at the musty mattress.

“If you have someplace else to be, by all means.”  I make a grand sweep of my arms towards the door.

“Uh, n-no.  I’ll stay.”

I move past her, out onto the platform.

“Charlie, wait.”  She calls out after me.

I turn, face her.

She stands, backlit by the multicolor lights.  “Can I- Can I have the key, in case something happens to you?“

I eye her suspiciously,  “I’d rather…”  The pleading look in her eyes stops me.  I take the key from my neck again and hand it to her.

“Thanks.”  She shuts the door and I hear the lock click as I make my way back to my cart.  There was still a lot to do.