In Which Evie Encounters Yet Another Ultimatum
We made quite a stir when we appeared outside Dalliance. Conversation stopped, heads turned, and whispers flew. But I was too busy shading my eyes from the sudden, unexpected 1.21-gigawatt glare of sunlight. Hope, too, was squinting in pain and ducking her head. After the eternal dimness of firelight and the eldritch globes that barely lit the claustrophobic darkness of the Ever After, to reform in the shimmering heat-haze and endless expanse of a desert at midday was rather a shock. Rachel had told me about making the Petrified Forest tulpa after she'd awoken from the trauma of it. But seeing it in person was, well, breathtaking.
"Rachel made this?" I gasped, grabbing Ash's arm. Ash, of course, had retrieved sunglasses from nowhere and perched them on his nose. Newt had done the same, though she now had the grace to offer Hope a pair, too. I blinked, because both Newt and Hope were now clad in colorful tank tops and khaki shorts. I, on the other hand, remained in the clothing I'd altered from Ash's closet, and I immediately began sweating like a pig. "How far does it go?"
"Miles," Newt said, looking at all the little checkered blankets spread out here and there on the sand, next to the ramshackle bar.
"Miles," I said breathlessly. Wow. There were even ghostly ley lines here. Did they look like that in the real world? The amount of detail was stunning. What had Rachel experienced here that had left the place burned so indelibly into her mind?
There were probably forty or fifty demons here, enjoying fried chicken, burgers and fries. Only the food made the place a restaurant. But where was it coming from? There was nothing else nearby, save for a colorful jukebox (huh?) sitting on a patch of dirt and a single dusty Buick lurking alone in the parking lot. Someone had left a cooler full of Cokes and Budweisers on its hood to brave the heat. Amazingly, it was still full of ice.
Newt chuckled, seeing where my gaze had stopped. "Next time you see Rachel, ask her to conjure up the keys for us."
I snickered at the mental image of a Buick full of drunk demons roaring through the desert. Did demons even know how to drive? And that jukebox… I looked back at the record in my hand. Aha. Now it made sense.
A weak breeze dusted by, blowing grit in our faces without cooling us in the slightest. Even with my demon-cursed skin, it was uncomfortable. Worse, there was a sense about the place, an emotional signature that resonated with isolation and desolation. "How can you guys stand being here for more than five minutes?" I asked, wiping my brow. The demons all around didn't seem to notice either the heat or the angst in the slightest.
"Are you kidding? They're all here for the sun. It's our first daylight tulpa in thousands of years."
I whistled, seeing the desert from the eyes of a daylight-deprived demon. Yeah, I'd pay a lot for a few hours in the sun, even if it were only an illusion. No wonder Al hoarded his precious conservatory so greedily.
"No familiars," the demon host called, moving to meet us. I turned around, a little disoriented.
I knew we were underground, standing on one of the glyphs demons used to connect rooms, but the illusion was perfect. Dalliance certainly didn't resemble the cave that it was, any more than it resembled a restaurant.
Newt drew herself up and removed her sunglasses. Calvin — I could read his nametag now — turned pale and began to apologize profusely. His gaze fell on Hope and me. "But—" he said, and Ash stepped forward.
"My Berexadtha is here to speak to your boss," he said, indicating me. "Dipshit," he added.
"Berex…" Calvin's eyes went wide. "You? You're the… Right! I'll, uh, be right back," Calvin hurried off into what looked like the middle of nowhere, and abruptly vanished into thin air… thin air which swung back and forth for a moment like it was hinged.
Newt snickered. "You've been such a recluse, they didn't really believe in you, Yvette. But Rachel really freaked them out last week. You won't get nearly the hassle that she did. Don't let Dali cheat you. A new tulpa is a priceless thing. Only us girls can make them."
Hope frowned, and I winced. I wasn't really looking forward to trying to make a bigger tulpa, even if the forest ultimately hadn't taken any major toll on my mind or sanity. Ash, on the other hand, was basking in the glow of forty-some male demons looking at him with envious eyes. No matter how bad his day had been, it had just gotten a whole lot better. I wanted to be annoyed, but both Therese and I were extremely satisfied to let all the other dudes here know that we were very much taken, thank you. Enough that even Ash's possessive hand on my backside didn't bother me in the least.
"I thought you didn't want anyone to know about Hope."
Newt smiled. "I was sparing her from having to deal with Ku'Sox. He knows about her now, but he's been banished from Dali's place since he picked on Rachel. He won't bother us here."
Ku'Sox. Now there was a demon I never wanted to meet again.
Dali appeared from behind the hidden swinging door in the shimmering air. I almost didn't recognize him — every other time we'd met, he'd been doing the justice-related thing, dressing the part of a corporate higher-up. Here, he was dressed as a fry-cook, baseball cap and all. He had the appearance of a nondescript man in his fifties, the cap covering his receding hairline better than the grease-spattered wifebeater covered his paunch. The last time I'd met him, he'd pulled some kind of "waaay older than you" aura that had scared the spit out of me. I pulled that memory in close, because right now it was nearly impossible to take him seriously.
"Ah, yes. Table for four?" he asked. Then he frowned at my outfit, and Ash's. "You call that fitting the theme?"
"My treat," Newt said, stalling my protest that I didn't have any cash on me and that we didn't have time to eat. Well, it wasn't like I was broke, after all — I had Ash's vast fortune at my fingertips. But the thought of using that blood money to buy anything, especially burgers, made me queasy. Then I wondered what he meant by "fitting the theme," and recalled Rachel talking about how the jukebox changed the décor. I thought about explaining that neither Ash nor I had more than two curses to rub together at this point, but Newt came to our rescue, dressing us in lightweight Hawaiian shirts, jeans, and sandals. This was better.
We were installed on a checkered blanket on a nondescript patch of dirt and scrub by Dali himself. "Join us, Dali darling. Our Yvette has business to discuss with you, regarding the case involving Zaebos."
Dali gave her a smarmy smile, but he did park himself beside her with the air of a man who might need to make a hasty retreat. "Newt, love, there's nothing I can do to help any more. If you're going to sue in court, you're going to have to follow the rules you yourself set down, there's just nothing for it." His eyes fastened on the tulpa/record in my hand, and his expression changed to delight. "Why, Yvette! Have you brought something for me?"
I was about to answer, but a waitress had just placed five lemonades with little umbrellas in front of us. Thank goodness, I thought, reaching for one and taking a few quick gulps before I registered the flavor. It was tart, slightly fizzy, very cold, and laced with what tasted slightly like brimstone, under the far more bold taste of burnt amber. Considering all the terrifying experiences at the demon mall, this particular drink wasn't half bad, actually. I recalled another odd little rule of dining at Dalliance. Diners got what they got, depending on the era of the memory currently playing in the jukebox. I wondered if I'd get stoned if I changed the theme to something a little less painful on the eyes.
"Easy on the Bomber, Evie," Ash said, amused. "I don't want to have to carry you out of here."
But I'd just done a doubletake, because the waitress was the very woman I wanted to talk to. "Brooke?" I asked.
Brooke — it had to be her, she was wearing a Mobius pin on her too-tight T-shirt — looked over us with feigned disinterest as she distributed plastic dinnerware rolled up in paper napkins along with paper plates. Then her eyes fell on Hope, and it was like someone had lit her up from within. Her avidly curious eyes roamed all over the poor girl greedily. She was far less curious about me, and Newt she avoided looking at entirely. "So it's done? You finally found your way home?"
Hope gave her a look that combined bewilderment and contempt in a way that only teenagers can manage. "Yet another person who knows more about what's going on than I do. How I love having it pointed out to me, constantly. Please, do it some more."
"Brooke," Dali said, annoyed. "Back to work."
Brooke flinched, even as she sneered at Hope. "Word has it she and Rachel broke this hellhole. You're all going down in a few years, and I'll be around to see it." She strode off, back stiff and proud, even as she braced for whatever Dali would throw at her.
Dali's eyes narrowed, but he didn't bother to punish her. "That one… I should get my money back. Coven quality witch, he said. Ley line expert, he said. Maybe so, but what a pain in the—"
"What did she mean, 'broke this hellhole?'" Hope asked, giving Newt a penetrating glare. "Is there something else you didn't tell me?"
Newt smirked. "Sure, there's plenty I'm not telling you. You have to live with me, after all. Think I'm going to let you listen to all these biddies gossip about me?"
Hope scowled at her. "I don't have to, you know. I could still change my mind."
I eyed the two of them, curious. The squabbling had the ring of a comfortable relationship about it, but whether it was mother and daughter or something more, I couldn't tell. The idea of Hope and Newt in some kind of relationship seemed horribly inappropriate to me, but then, who was I to talk? Then I realized what Brooke must have meant. "It's the hole she tore in reality, isn't it?"
Hope gasped, and Newt fixed me with a very grim look. "What did I do now?" Hope asked, slumping.
There was no point to beating around the bush, since it affected all of us who had ties to the Ever After. "A few years ago, Rachel made a ley line. You made one, too, when the accident happened. I saw it when we visited the lab today."
"It's sucking the energy out of the Ever After, one sunrise at a time," Newt said. "Before, all the ley lines were either preexisting, or made by the demons who were trapped here. Rachel broke the balance. Then Evie made it worse by screwing with the resonances. Then…"
"One hole, the Ever After might have survived," said Dali, as I flinched. This was the first I'd heard that I'd managed to help break the Ever After, too. "But two? It's accelerated the decline. Newt warned us for years, but of course we didn't listen. We all believe it now. Where we might have had centuries, now we have mere years."
"Until what?" asked Hope.
"The death of the Ever After, and all trapped within it," Newt said. "It was always supposed to collapse into itself eventually, of course. That was the whole point. I suppose it's about time."
"No! God, I killed all those people, and now this? Isn't there any way to fix it?"
Newt settled back on her elbows, showing the sun her throat. "We could kill you, and Rachel. We've discussed that. You made the lines; it's possible they are still connected to you in some way. Most of the lines in reality were made by demons, and occasionally, a demon's line winks out when he does."
Hope looked horrified, but said nothing as Newt continued, "But if we kill you both and find out that it wasn't the right solution, well, won't we be in a bind…? Neither of us could possibly channel the energy needed to close such a hole without frying our minds even more than they already are."
She meant herself and me. "Gee, thanks," I said. "Could the four of us do it together, working with some of the guys?"
"Maybe." Newt reclined, as if discussing the doom of the Ever After was about as interesting or relevant as last week's grass clippings. "Last resort."
I looked at Ash, who had been unusually silent. There was a hurt little crinkle around his eyes, but as ever, he kept most of the emotion off his expression. "It won't come to that," he said.
Dali was giving us a suspicious eye. "Rachel's dead," he said, a shade too loud. He leveled his ancient gaze on me, and doofy baseball cap or not, I shivered. "Isn't she…?"
"Uuh…" I stammered.
"Oops. Was that supposed to be a secret? I forget," Newt said, and I wanted to smack my forehead in annoyance. Well, Rachel's secret was out now, wasn't it? And no hope of keeping it contained to just our table, either…demons all around began to whisper at the news that they hadn't lost their desert-creating superstar to their demented day-walking creation after all.
I shook my head, then wiped my brow again. Much as I enjoyed heat, this was a bit much. And I rather wanted to get the conversation away from Rachel and the ley lines she'd made, before anyone suggested that I be the one to repair them. There was time — years, even! — and I really had to focus on the most pressing matter. "Um, Dali…" I paused, uncomfortable addressing him by a nickname. Were we on a nickname basis? He didn't seem to mind. "I was wondering if you'd let me talk to Brooke for a few minutes."
Dali blinked at the abrupt change in topic. "Why the hell would you want to? She's a bitch on wheels."
"Brooke knows about her." I indicated Hope. "It's for the court case."
"Pfft." Dali flicked the pink umbrella from his drink over his shoulder and took a long gulp. "Good luck. Hope you're into serious torture, because that's the only way you'll get anything from her."
I couldn't help flinching, but decided Dali was exaggerating. He had to be. I mean, I could just douse her with Al's truthiness spell and she'd sing like a lark. "Soooo I can go talk to her, then?" I asked.
"She's busy. The place is hopping and I'm always short-staffed. Her shift doesn't end until Monday. Come back then."
I blinked. "What day is today, anyway?"
"Thursday."
"You've got her working five-day shifts?"
"Why not? She doesn't need sleep. Mondays and Tuesdays are slow. She gets them off, for her stirring."
"She's a slave, Evie," Ash reminded me. "She's only here for one reason."
Hope looked about as disgusted as I felt. "I think I see why you haven't taken me out to eat before," she said to Newt. "Not only does this place reek, but you're still living in the Dark Ages."
"Home sweet home," Newt said, unperturbed.
Hope and I shared an eloquent look, both deciding not to say any more on the subject. Why bother?
"I really need to talk to her now, Dali," I said, and I could feel the demon beside me change gears into bargaining mode as his eyes flicked back to the record sitting next to my plate. "Can I bribe you with a tulpa?"
Dali opened his mouth to reply and his hand reached for my tulpa, but he drew it back quickly when Newt stabbed at his hand with her spork. "Come now," she said to me sternly. "I told you not to let him cheat you. Dali, Yvette made a lovely new memory for your restaurant. Give her five minutes with your witch."
"Full royalties," Dali replied, taking another swig of his drink.
I had no idea what my construct was worth, but I decided to go for broke. "You can have ten percent," I said, mostly to be cheeky.
Dali scoffed. "Haven't even seen it yet. Is it a daylight scene?"
"No."
"Modern buildings?"
"No."
"Full royalties," he said again. "I don't need another fucking pretty nature scene."
"Bullshit. It's a new memory. Your customers want novelty, without all this heat. Twenty percent, and I retain full ownership rights."
That's asking rather a lot for such a small tulpa, Ash told me, thoroughly amused.
I don't really want to give it to him, I replied. It's mine. It's like giving away my first real piece of art, and letting everyone step all over it. I'd rather just make him something else, but we really don't have time.
"How big?"
I looked around, gauging the distances. "Uh, maybe here to the end of the parking lot?" The distance was about what I remembered as the size of the clearing, maybe a little smaller. "Could be a little bigger than that — it's the first one I made."
Dali paused, thinking. "Given how fucked up your head is, I want to see what I'm getting."
"Hey!"
"I'll go plug it in and we'll check it out." Dali held out his hand.
His pensive expression once more settling into his usual bemused smirk, Ash took the little yesteryear relic from my hand and carried to the jukebox, Dali by his side. With a bit of fiddling and cursing, the two demons wrestled the jukebox open and slipped the record into one of the empty slots.
Demons made various noises of consternation, annoyance, and then shouts of amazement as reality shifted. Dalliance was now contained within my forest. Once again I was overtaken by my own wonder at the gorgeous, lush detail of the scene. The scent of pine and greenery leapt all around, overpowering the pervasive burnt amber stench of the Ever After. It was a warm summer night, and the air was blissfully cool compared to the unforgiving heat of the desert. Thousands of stars twinkled in the clear darkness above us. Where the swinging air-door had been was an old fashioned Coleman tent, and behind it, smoke rose in a long, straight plume, the cooking fire apparently hidden from view. The scent of wood smoke and fire-charred meat filled the air. The other demons were now lying on heavy wool blankets or sitting on camp chairs, with small dome tents dotted here and there. And in the enter of the clearing was another cheerful campfire surrounded by our demon summoning circle, just as I had remembered it, candles and all. Closing my eyes, I felt around, and found the illusion of my ley line, correct in every possible detail.
Dali's eyes were wide with appreciation as he fingered the material of the large tent. Interesting…I hadn't put it there, but it fit perfectly with the memory. I would have put just such a tent right there if the scene had called for one. My stomach began to growl as I wondered if Dali knew how to replicate s'mores.
"Well?" I asked, as demons clapped and called out their approval of the new setting.
"Five minutes," Dali said. "Fifty percent of the royalties, and you retain ownership of the original."
"Done," I said, because I was tired of haggling and I really wanted to get on with this whole stupid adventure. Not that I was looking forward to dealing with my second-least-favorite Coven witch, mind you. I just wanted to get it over with.
"In the back," he said, beckoning me to follow. "I'll show you to the break room."
I got up to follow him, and saw that nobody else was coming with us. Fine by me. I couldn't imagine that Brooke would be much of a danger to me.
"Brooke!" Dali roared. The witch, currently serving a plate of hot dogs, hamburgers, and over-charred shish-kebob to a group of demons while simultaneously avoiding their roving hands, jumped and nearly dumped the plate on the head of the closest man. "Break time!"
Brooke wiped her hands on her greasy apron, looking at Dali with surprise and not a little trepidation. She hadn't bothered to change her clothing from the desert tulpa, and she was still covered in orangeish dust. She might have been defiant enough at us, but her expression now left no doubt that she thought she was in serious shit, and it was time to pay the piper.
We passed through the tent, which held camp tables full of pots and pans and cooking utensils, and out the back past the large fire pit, oven, and grill built out of stones and iron. The cooking was being tended to by a bare-chested demon in jeans and a cowboy hat, tongs in one hand, a beer in the other. Succorbenoth, my brain supplied as I took a moment to admire his perfect pectorals and washboard abs before tearing my gaze away to stare at the rest of the kitchen setup in wonder. I hadn't built this. But if I had, it would have looked exactly like this. The whole tulpa thing was starting to weird me out. "Dali… I didn't make that. Why does it look like I made that?"
"Tulpas are reflections, borrowing from memory and reality itself. They are holograms, containing more than what is merely visible. You must have done a lot of camping — you've seen these structures at some point, and they are intimately connected with your memory of this forest. The curse on the restaurant can draw on these leftover connections, even though it's been severed completely from your mind." Dali looked about his creation proudly. "That's what makes Dalliance so unique — it can dig deep into the tulpas and find exquisite little details like this, and bend them to our reality. The curse isn't sentient, but it's close. I no longer even have to tweak the settings — new, unexpected tidbits like these just appear, working off the existing structures and creating new illusions to fit. It's what makes any new tulpa exciting to my customers."
"Wait, the creation of a tulpa borrows from reality? What does that mean?"
"Tulpas are a complex soul magic. A lot of the old lore has been lost. The creation of the tulpa is more than giving a simple memory shape and substance. It draws on reality and Ever After and that special place inside a woman's soul, existing simultaneously in all three — at least, until you're severed from it."
Something was tweaking at my mind, some vague connection, but I couldn't puzzle it out. Then it was gone. "What happens if a woman creates a tulpa and it's not completed?"
"If the severing is incomplete, you leave bits of your soul behind. Happened now and then. Usually the soul can regenerate, unless you got a really incompetent man who left too much behind."
"But… what if there isn't a demon man around?"
Dali shrugged. "Never heard of that happening before. Tulpa creation is high-order soul magic. Never heard of it not being done deliberately, with a male nearby to pull it out." He considered, thoughtful. "I honestly don't know what would happen. It'd be a big drain on her resources. Could affect reality, too. I don't know."
"And the… food…?" I asked, looking at the hot dogs, burgers, and steaks sizzling on the grill. "Is the food from my memory, too?"
"If you'd specifically made it part of the tulpa, it'd be illusory, but you'd still taste and smell it for the duration of your stay within the construct. Fine for my purposes, though I'm known for food that leaves with you. Real food. Sort of."
"Sort of? What is it?"
Dali chuckled. "Old family secret, my recipes," he said.
"You don't want to know," Brooke said, coming in behind us. "Trust me."
Dali didn't deny it as he led us a short way through the trees to another dusty, stained old-style khaki green army tent. Entering it, I felt a moment of disorientation as the illusion fell away, leaving us in a cold, dark, stone room. I peeked back through the door, and saw what had to be the room we'd just left. No longer covered by the illusion from this vantage point, it was revealed to be a low stone corridor hewn straight from bedrock, as stark and bare as most of the demon dwellings. Dali lit the lights with a word, revealing a small but very well-stocked demon curse lab, and a cot with several disheveled blankets.
"Brooke, you have five minutes. Yvette has some questions for you. Answer them honestly, or answer to me." He fixed her with his ancient black gaze, and she wilted, shivering visibly. She gave him a meek nod, but leveled a look of sheer, murderous hatred at his back as he left us alone. The cold stone door closed behind him, and she sighed, visibly relieved. Suddenly she looked far more tired and browbeaten than she'd let on a moment before. Without wasting her breath on pleasantries, she sat on the cot, slipped off her sandals and began to rub her feet. "What do you want?" she asked, suspicion coloring her curiosity.
"Information," I said. "I'm trying to stop Zaebos. I need to know the deal you brokered with him all those years ago."
Brooke regarded me with a raised eyebrow. "Why should I help you?" What can you do for me, was what she was asking.
"It's urgent. Ellasbeth is about to have her baby, and if Zee doesn't get what he wants, he'll snatch it. It's the first cured elven child. The elves will go batshit and try to kill the demons, and probably the witches as well. I can…" I looked around at the sad little room, realizing this was probably where Brooke spent her days off, cooking up the curses she needed to keep up with the reality shifts at Dalliance. "I can see if I can make things more comfortable for you," I said. "I can make tulpas for him. Maybe I—"
Brooke stood up, examining me. "Fuck," she said. "Another one of you? The Withons told me there were only three successful cures — Rachel, Lee, and Hope. And Hope's brother, but he doesn't really count. Where did you come from?"
"Chance. Evolution? It doesn't really matter, does it? The point is, I—"
"You're a demon, too." Brooke spat on the floor in disgust, an odd habit for a dignified West coast woman. Perhaps she'd picked it up here. "No. You get nothing from me. Not unless you get me out of here."
"What? I don't… uh… think you're for sale."
"Everything's for sale here!" she said vehemently. "Get me out. That's my price."
Consternated, I thought about it for ten seconds. I could try, but I had an idea about how expensive familiars were, and this one in particular was valuable enough to Dali that he probably wouldn't go for it. All the tulpas in the world wouldn't make a difference if there was nobody to run his restaurant. "What if I can't?"
"Then you get nothing. Get me out, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."
"Brooke, you tried to kill Rachel. You made a deal to sell a girl to demons, you experimented on unknowing witches and their babies for years. I don't trust you to keep your word."
Brooke's eyebrows rose in bemused astonishment. "How the hell did you find all that out?"
But if she wasn't going to talk, than neither was I. "Do I need to tell Dali that you won't cooperate?"
Brooke shifted, her back straightening, regarding me with a proud, defiant hate-filled look. "Miss Sinclaire, I remember you back when you came before the Coven after your demon summoning killed two witches. Oliver was in favor of Alcatraz, but you insisted so prettily that you were only trying to help, blah, blah, blah. You expect me to believe that you're going to tell my delightful Lord and Master that I'm not cooperating? Do you have any idea what he'll do to me?"
Fuck. I'd hoped to use that threat on her, but she'd outwitted me: she was taking herself hostage. "Nicely played, Brooke," I said, exasperated, "but time is short. I've only got days, and I can't afford to lie on my ass after making Dali the tulpas he'll want in exchange for you… if he even agrees to it in the first place."
"Too bad." Brooke knew she held all the cards.
"My point is that I don't think I can avoid telling him I need the information NOW and that you won't give it to me," I said angrily. Damn the woman. I'd hoped to possibly find a basis for cooperation here, but she was making things totally impossible.
"Sinclaire, I'd rather die than do this forever. If by doing nothing, the elves murder all these bastards and the Ever After eventually collapses, then I'm going to watch and giggle and dance on their ashes before I get sucked away too. The only thing I want is freedom. I don't give a damn if I'm shunned, so long as I'm away from this pit. Get me out. Get me home."
Oh, I whined and stomped and pleaded, appealed to the better nature she'd either buried or abandoned, and finally let loose with empty threats when I reached the end of my patience. It didn't work—Brooke had latched on to the one lifeline she had, and refused to let go. But if I were honest with myself, I'd known from the moment Vivian had said her name what I'd have to do. I'd have to bend my line, and try to buy her from Dali.
I just hoped it wouldn't cost me any more of my soul to do it.
