note: One chapter away from having the longest story I've ever written, and this monster isn't even close to being done. Hooray. This chapter's special thanks go to: picture frames, polka dots, Lope de Vega, and 40º weather. No thanks to: my iron level. You really let me down today, man.

eleven: revelations.


Walking back to Swifty's house the next day, I remembered the trick he had pulled and wished I knew exactly what had been behind it. This was our third time walking from the Brick to Swifty's house, and I had a feeling that it would not be the last. The route was easy enough, with only a few turns, but it was just so long.

As we walked, Boots and Dutchy chatted, making comments about the people and places we passed. In my head, I went over a thousand different things to say to Swifty, ranging from the plainly apologetic to the more diplomatic concession that would perhaps save some of my pride. Nothing seemed to fit, and I gave up after about an hour, frustrated and feeling a headache coming on.

Sensing that I was no longer deep in thought, Dutchy quickened his pace so as to catch up with me and walk abreast. Great, I thought, here come the questions.

"Hey, Race, Boots an' I were just talking. About the market, um, Blithe Mile?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I dunno, I just realized that it almost felt like home, being there, and I couldn't figure out why. But I think I just did."

Good for you, I thought, rubbing my temple with the heel of my hand. I was, though, a little curious, so I just waited for him to continue.

"Colors," Dutchy said, as if unveiling some great discovery. "All the colors. I hadn't even noticed, before, but this place has no color!"

"Um, Dutch, there's color here," I said, motioning around. But he was right – almost everyone dressed in drab grays, or olive greens, browns, blacks, the occasional and dirty white. After all, people made it a point to blend in, and those who wanted otherwise didn't have a problem standing out. Anyone trying to make a statement – whatever it may be – made sure to wear colors, bright and vivid reds and blues and yellows that attracted attention wherever they went. At the market, with thousands of people trying to sell their wares, almost everyone tried to use color to catch your eye, whether by wearing a scarf like a rainbow or by decorating their stand with brightly blooming flowers. Flowers, of course, didn't really grow in the Dark – nothing outside weeds and some vegetables, that is. They were another thing smuggled in from the Other side. It was a trivial thing to risk your neck for, but there was a market, and people would buy them.

So, Dutchy was right – there was a distinct lack of color. Even Swifty's favorite pink shirt was a bold move, and he was just bold enough to wear it everywhere, too. I thought of Sofia, and her yellow dresses. Swifty used to call her the canary, both for that and her sweet singing voice. In the bar, she had been in the corner, all in black. Yes, something was wrong.

Dutchy was looking at me oddly, and I realized I'd slipped off into space yet again.

"Sorry, Dutch," I said, attempting a smile. "Got a lot on my mind."

He just nodded, looked almost relieved. "Yeah, me too," he said.

"You're right, though. I guess things are pretty dull. There's a lot of stuff I don't notice anymore, see," I explained. "It's actually… it's actually kind of nice to have you point stuff like that out." I had a feeling I was going to regret saying something like that, now he would probably never shut up. But, again, he simply nodded, pleased.

"I never seen so many colors but in the market," Boots said earnestly, wriggling between Dutchy and myself. "'s that what it's like, on the Other side? All the time?"

"Not all the time –" I began, but Dutchy interrupted.

"Wait, wait, Boots – you've never been to our – ah, the Other side?"

"Well, maybe. I don't remember," said Boots. "I think when I was real little. I don't remember it. I just remember Brooklyn, then the Madame's… yeah. And now here I am."

"Oh," said Dutchy. "Well. Yeah, Race is right." He stopped, and I don't know if he expected me to continue or what, but I stayed silent. I figured it would be nice for Dutchy to be able to explain something for once, for him to be the expert. Besides, I didn't feel like talking, my mind was still too full. So I listened.

"Yeah, there are colors on the Other side. Tons of colors… colors, and… and sunlight, you know? Blue skies, all the time, and sometimes it rains, but that's not always bad. Like, in the summer, when it's so hot you don't think you can move another step and then it starts raining and you get wet but you still stay outside, running through the streets just to feel the drops on your face."

Now I was smiling for real, finding Dutchy's words strangely comforting. Boots was staring up at him, eyes wide in awe - an amusing shift from his usual cheekiness.

"But the sunlight, that's the best," he continued, gathering strength from our attentiveness, "it warms your back when you take a nap outside, and the sunsets, man. Pinks and oranges and greens, all in the sky, free for everyone to see… colors like flowers, ha, that's the best, not the flowers but the pretty girls who sell them and the smiles they give you." Now he was grinning, too. "No, no, the best is the holidays, Thanksgivin', Christmas. The Lodging House, this place we live, they throw these huge dinners, free for any kid who wants it, and the whole night is just all this food, so good, and more than you could ever eat, and drinking and laughing…"

He trailed off when he recognized the street we were now on. It was Swifty's street, and his house wasn't that far away. Both of them looked at me, but I just pressed on, as if it weren't a big deal.

My bravado lasted about until the door, where we stood together, staring it down in all its black monstrosity. Finally, I raised my hand to knock, but before my fist even hit the wood, it opened. Sofia's kind green eyes sparkled as she took a good look at us.

"Pasa, pasa… come in, please," she said, and winked at Boots. We stepped in and stood awkwardly in the entryway, eyeing the hallway to the main room, where I was almost positive Swifty would be waiting. Sofia grabbed my wrist and tugged me gently in that direction, and so I moved off with a pleading glance to my companions behind me. They stayed in place, nervous.

Swifty was on the couch, leaning against the far arm so he was facing the hall. His right arm was up on its back and he tapped his fingers against the top to some melody in his head. He watched me coldly as I followed Sofia into the room. She let me go once we were out of the hall, and went to stand by his head.

"You know that if she hadn't talked to me all night, you wouldn't be here right now," he said bluntly, his eyes fixed on me, waiting for a challenge.

"I know," I said.

"Yeah? You know that if I hadn't been at the Mile yesterday, you would've been fed to the dogs," he said.

"I know."

"If you know everything, then tell me, what the hell happened yesterday? What were you thinking?"

This I couldn't explain, even if I'd wanted to. So I just shrugged. He didn't buy it for a second, and decided to ignore it, at least for the time being.

"Did you get the list?" he asked. I nodded. "Let's see it."

I couldn't refuse twice, and Sofia was here, so I called Dutchy and Boots into the room.

"Swifty wants to see the list," I explained. Dutchy took out the black book and shook the papers out, walking over to the couch to offer them to Swifty. Swifty took the papers absently, apparently more interested in the black book. He took that, too. Dutch didn't protest.

"This is a nice book, Dutchy," he said. "Where'd you find this one?"

"It was, um, it was in Madame Proulx's library."

Swifty looked up from flipping through the pages. "Oh, yeah?" Then he looked to me, one eyebrow lifted. "She give you this?"

"Not quite," I admitted, then added, needlessly, "I thought it would be useful."

"Heh. Sticky fingers, Race. That's a new one for you." He handed the book back to Dutchy. "I'd be careful with that, Madame Proulx is very strict about her bargains." His eyes flickered to Boots so fast that at first I thought I'd imagined it. But Boots squirmed a little beside me, and I was hit again by that feeling – Swifty knew something I didn't. He knew a lot more than he was letting on. So why was he hiding it?

Swifty was smart, really smart. At one point I'd had his complete trust, and he mine, but it was obvious that things were a little rocky. Still, if I was going to find out just what he knew, I would have to be upfront and completely honest – he would see right through anything else. So, I went out on a limb.

"Listen," I said, trying my best to ignore the fact that there were others in the room. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking. I know you saved us, all of us – I heard the other stories last night – and I also know that we might not have gotten anywhere in the beginning without your help. So, I'm sorry that I didn't trust you. And I'm sorry that it took Sofia for me to realize that I was wrong."

I'm not big on apologies – ever. But this thing, it was bigger than my pride. There was a bit of an awkward silence when I finished, Swifty probably just as bad at accepting apologies as I was giving them out. So he just looked at me, a little taken aback, and then twisted around so he could see Sofia, who was standing looking rather amused.

"You saw him last night too?"

She looked down and just smiled.

"Claro."

He shook his head. "Fair enough." A pause. "You know, Race… I know how it is, how things happen when you go back. I know maybe you forget stuff, as impossible as it seems to me." Suddenly he seemed to change his mind about what he was saying, I could see the shift visible on his face. He was talking about something much more complicated than my apology, and even Dutchy seemed to sense it, for he took a step forward and probably didn't even realize. "See," Swifty was saying, "for you it's like a dream, like you remember the important parts and some of the terror, you remember bodies and names that have no faces, whatever. Me, I wake up every morning and I have to remind myself that it is a new day, and that the people, the things in my thoughts, they are not real, no matter how vivid they are in my own dreams." Here, Sofia placed a hand on his shoulder, but he ignored her.

"So I guess maybe I can't blame you, not for everything, not when you're forgetting, because you don't realize it. But that doesn't mean I will let it slide a second time, because I won't. If you're going to mock me and my trust a second time, you might as well go back, for good this time, because I don't think I can tolerate that again, I don't think I could still keep control."

"It won't happen again," I said, my voice coming out a lot quieter than I'd expected. But he heard me, and nodded, and cleared his throat, as eager to move on as I was. He looked at the papers in his hands, apparently just remembering that he had them. His eyes scanned down the list. Sofia, curious, looked over his shoulder, reading too, and nodding as she went.

"This is not simple, you know," she said, looking up and directing the comment at Dutchy. He blinked, surprised anyone was paying attention to him.

"Um, not really," he admitted. "I don't know what any of it means."

"The Fever, you see, it takes much energy to put on someone – to cast. It is difficult. The Cure, too, that is difficult."

"There aren't many ingredients," Swifty commented.

"No," she agreed. "But that does not make it more easy."

"We got the Hangman's Moss yesterday," Dutchy offered. Swifty looked up at me, and this time he grinned.

"So that's what you nicked? That's it?"

"She was trying to rip me off!" I protested. "I didn't bring all that much stuff, I mean, I thought we could just find Sofia, you know…" I shrugged, and suddenly remembered my unanswered question from the night before. Did Sofia know who was responsible? If she did, she probably would have mentioned something by now. I held my tongue. There would be time to ask later.

"Savory," Swifty said suddenly. "I have savory."

"You have savory?" I repeated, not bothering to hide my skepticism.

"Sure, I have savory," Swifty said. "It's an herb, it's for beans and things."

"Told ya," Boots said from the windows, where he had long since wandered.

Swifty passed the papers to Sofia and eased himself up.

"It's in the kitchen somewhere, but that place is a mess. I need to stretch, I'll look for it now. Call if you need me." He disappeared into the kitchen. Sofia took his spot on the couch and beckoned to me.

"Venga, sit. And you – Danya?"

Dutchy nodded.

"Good, sit, Danya. Lucas, would you like to sit?"

"No, thanks," Boots said. "Hey, how did you know my name?"

I was curious to hear this, too, but Sofia just smiled a little and shook her head. "Now, that is not a very polite thing to ask, is it?"

Boots didn't look like he agreed, but he shut up anyway and went back to staring out the window. Sofia turned her attention to us. Her mood had shifted completely, the normal calm of her face disrupted by eyes heavy with tears.

"You saw it, my shop?" she asked me softly.

"Yes…" I said, remembering the ruins, remembering the girl…

"I lost Elke," she said, and one tear escaped down her cheek. "Dios mio, Elke is gone."

Elke, that was the girl! I wondered if Sofia knew what had happened to her, what she thought. I remembered Elke now, all skin and bones and smile. She had big brown eyes, like a doe, and spoke very little English. I tried to remember her like that, tried to remember her as she was in the back of Sofia's shop, or winding her way through the market, but all I could see was the hanging figure, swaying, and the raucous crowd beneath.

Sofia must have seen it in my eyes, because she leaned a little closer.

"You saw Elke," she said. "You know."

I nodded solemnly. She didn't ask questions.

"I was not there, you know," she said through her tears. "I let Elke keep the shop open, she would run it, she was so proud. I was at the Mile, picking things up. I went home, but the streets were empty, and there was so much smoke, and I knew. Sabìa que todo estuvo perdido. I dropped everything, I ran, I hid. I came to Swifty, and he helped me, but I knew… I knew she was gone."

"You were lucky," I said. She said nothing. I tried again. "Who… who do you think is responsible? Who did it?"

"I do not know. I was not there. I have not been back. No sè nada."

"Is this our fault? It is my fault?" Dutchy asked, horrified. Again Sofia did not answer, not directly.

"I do not blame you," she said. She was sincere, and she met his eyes to show him this.

"I'm sorry," Dutchy said. "I didn't know…"

"I do not blame you," she repeated. Then, barely audible, she murmured, "I should have been there… ay."

"And then you would be hanging from that tree, you and Elke both," said Swifty. I jumped. He was still at the kitchen door, looking out, but I had not even heard it open. Sofia looked at her hands and another tear fell, leaving a tiny wet splotch on the couch. I shifted uncomfortably. Swifty moved away from the door, leaving it slightly ajar. About a minute later, he pushed it open with his shoulder and emerged with several cups. Two were coffee, for Dutchy and me, and the other looked like tea. He set this by Sofia's side of the couch, and, after a moment's thought, took the silver colored flask from his vest and put it beside the cup.

Sofia added some of the liquid in the flask to the cup and took one tentative sip, then another. Then, holding it with both hands, she put the hot cup against her cheek and sort of sighed.

"He's a good cook, you know," she said. Her eyes were closed, but I guessed she was talking to me.

"Swifty? That's new."

", a little new. He has taught himself. That is why he has savory, of course. I think it is a little silly. Savory, and all of those things, they are common on the Other side, maybe. But they are dangerous here. Dangerous, and expensive. He gets them, somehow. He uses them. It is foolish… but the food is good." She opened her eyes and smiled a little, put the cup down and carefully wiped her tears away with the back of her index finger.

It was here, in this lapse in conversation and this vulnerable moment, that I think it all hit me. It hit me that not only was Sofia alive and sitting right next to me, but that I'd thought we'd lost her. I must have blinked because when I looked at her again, I saw her in a new light, like seeing her for the first time. In the bar she had been among shadows and I had been tired, confused, shocked – now I could get a good look at her.

Her eyes, always the first thing to catch my attention, were green and hidden by long, dark lashes. Her hair was near black and fell in gentle waves just past her shoulders. She was slender, and paler than I remembered, with rings on delicate fingers and a number of gold bangles on both wrists. Again today she was dressed in all black, and I figured maybe that served two purposes – to hide, and to mourn Elke. It was strange, though, to see her so subdued. This was not the canary Swifty was so fond of.

She caught me staring at her and I blushed a little, and quickly tried to think of something to say. The only things coming to mind were questions about Swifty, things I really wanted to know, but could not ask him directly. Of course, right as I opened my mouth, Swifty came out of the kitchen, triumphantly holding up a small paper bag.

"Found it," he said smugly, and then handed the bag to Sofia, who looked in and sniffed a little.

"This is savory," she agreed. She passed it to Dutchy. He peered inside, unimpressed. Sofia finished the last sip of her tea and stood, carefully smoothing her black skirt. She gave Swifty a long hug, her cheek pressed against his chest and her gaze cast downward. He held her to him with one hand at the small of her back and the other tucking her hair behind her ear. He kissed the top of her head, and as I watched, I felt a pang of jealousy. It was as if Dutchy and Boots had disappeared and I was the third wheel, and I realized, maybe for the first time, what I had lost in going back to the Other side. I'd never thought there would be a backlash in my decision, but at that moment I felt so out of place that it actually made me angry. So I looked away.

Sofia wasn't going to make it that easy. She finally broke away from Swifty and came to me next, and I stood and let her wrap her arms around my neck, feeling a little uncomfortable. I avoided Swifty's eyes. Sofia gave me one last squeeze and then drew back to look at me.

"I am so happy to have seen you," she said, eyes damp once again. Next she went to Dutchy and took his hand and said something to him, but I couldn't catch was it was. I just saw Dutchy's forlorn, yet hopeful, expression, which wasn't a huge change from how he normally looked.

Sofia waved goodbye to Boots and paused by the hall.

"Antonio," she said, "remember I will look for you, but you will need to talk to Joseph to find me, vale?"

"Vale," I said, and smiled a little. She laughed, and left. Now the room was quiet except for the ticking of a wall clock, which I couldn't remember ever being so loud.

"Well," said Swifty, looking at each of us in turn. "I was thinking lunch…?"

"Sounds good," I said, and, seeing a chance to talk with him one on one, added, "let me help."

He nodded and went back into the kitchen. Boots made himself comfortable on the couch, looking bored. Dutchy had brought out the black book again and was puzzling over it. I followed Swifty.


Swifty went to work lighting his stove and threw me a bunch of scrawny carrots, motioning to a knife I could use to peel and slice them. I put everything on the wooden island in the middle of the small room and got started, watching his back. I didn't say anything, and I wasn't planning on it. He would talk when he was ready, and he knew that I was waiting. I had apologized, had shown him the list, had admitted I was wrong. Now it was his turn.

He cleared his throat. "You know, I didn't think it would come to this." He paused to lift a huge pot on top of the stove. "I guess things just got out of hand, real fast."

I perked up. This sounded like something. But I was more apprehensive than excited.

"I'm glad we have a chance to talk, you and me," he said, turning to face me. "I… there are some things, I don't know if I could tell Dutch. I don't know how he'd take it, what he'd think of me. I don't know what he thinks of me anyway."

"Does it matter?" I asked. Swifty had never cared about anyone's opinion before. He shrugged.

"Guess not. But I do want to help. Somehow I feel like I owe that. To Specs," he added, probably only to irritate me. He didn't think he owed me anything and he would take every opportunity to remind me of that.

"Back up," I said. "How do you know Specs? I mean… okay obviously you know Specs, but… okay, just from the beginning."

"Sometime last year Specs wandered into the Dark, the same way you or I must have when we were a lot younger." I nodded. "As luck would have it, we bumped into each other – actually, I saw him from across the street and went to say 'hi.' See, I hadn't seen anyone since…" he paused and lifted an eyebrow in my direction, apparently this too was my fault. "…so I figured he knew, you know, where he was and we could catch up. Turns out he was confused as hell, so I took him in for the night. Carrots done yet?"

I said they were and he threw them in the pot. "There are some potatoes under there. Anyway, we had some drinks, had some laughs, and throughout the night I explained everything – about the Dark, that is. He was pretty… interested. He said he wanted to get involved, which surprised me. I'd told him I couldn't picture him here, he was the exact opposite of any Dark kid, you know, and, I dunno, maybe that's what made up his mind. Maybe he wanted to prove me and everyone else wrong. Whatever.

"So I said 'fine.' I thought I could use him, honestly, you know, small time smuggling, enough to get his feet wet and get rid of that curiosity while turning me at least a small profit."

"And?"

"And… that's it. He did it a few times, then he just disappeared. He cut off contact. I knew he was okay because I saw him a few times – just from afar – and I knew he was still at the Lodging House. So, what the hell, the kid didn't want to work anymore. Fine. But it was still pretty rude not to tell me."

I laughed at this and he smirked a little, too. Okay, so Swifty had gotten Specs into this whole mess, but he wasn't quite responsible. There had to be more to it.

"Anyway," he said, "my suspicion is, and always has been, that our pal Dutch knows nothing about this side of his Love."

"Yup, you've got that right," I agreed. "But, wait, that's it? What about the Fever?"

"I have no idea. Well. I have some idea. Seems that he probably just got in with the wrong crowd after he split from me. Made them angry. Who knows."

"So I guess you were pretty surprised to see us knocking at your door, then."

"Of course – more surprised about you than him, though. I had a feeling Dutch would find out eventually. When I saw Sofia's… you know, the smoke… I knew something was up. When Dutch knocked on my door, well, that sealed it. I just didn't know if I wanted to help."

Standing there, peeling potatoes, I was feeling good. I felt better about Swifty – he had definitely been hiding something, but if this was true – and I believed him, I had no reason not to – then it explained a lot. I realized the burden of telling Dutchy about Specs was now on my shoulders, but I would deal with it later.

I was also feeling better because of how Swifty was acting toward me. He was… chatty, friendly. It wasn't quite what I was expecting, and it definitely wasn't how he had first received me. I wondered if he was ready to forgive me, and also about just what Sofia had said the night before.

All that changed when he turned back around, hands held out for the potatoes.

"That's all I need, you should probably go back to Dutch and explain. And, listen, because I saw that goddamn smirk on your face. Just remember that I'm doing this for Dutch, and for Specs, and for Sofia. I don't know why you're here but I can't get rid of you anyway, so I'll put up with you. But don't expect to be let into my house if you show up alone, and know that I know that you ruined Sofia, and she knows it too, only she's too nice to admit it. So get the fuck outta my kitchen."

Calmly, I handed him the potatoes and left. Okay. So things weren't perfect.