Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Twenty-Three E-Book

Julie Steimle

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

It is a dangerous thing to gaze skyward on Halloween night. One might spy the Halloween Highway--the parade of beasties and fairy folk of the Unseelie Court journeying across the world, and get wisked away... This is something Matthew Calamori wished he had known before he stepped out to get some air after partying hard at the Gulinger Private Academy's Halloween dance. Lucky for him, his best friend, Tom Brown, is a half imp, and an unofficial member of the Unseelie Court. Otherwise he, and the other mortals swept up, might not make it out alive... but get taken forever into the fairy mound. But the real question is, what kind of mortals do the Unseelie Court spirit away? Because not everyone looking up on Halloween night gets snatched, now do they?

Leseprobe

Julie Steimle

Tales From Gulinger High: Tale Twenty-Three

The Halloween Highway

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Halloween Fun

Tom Brown had kept dutiful watch starting October thirtieth right at midnight, sleeping with one orange eye open. Though his father had not come by the last Halloween, Tom did not believe that the sneaky old imp would let him alone after that one contact only. Fifteen years of silence would make any imp anxious to wreak havoc with a potentially mischievous mortal son. But he didn’t come.

He didn’t come during breakfast.

He didn’t come during class.

He didn’t come during lunch—or at PE while Tom was showering.

He didn’t come at all during free time when everyone was preparing for the school-wide Halloween party.

Tom would have started to relax near dinner time, if it weren’t for the itching sensation he got in the back of his ears as the imps around him swarmed excitedly. Something unusual was approaching.

“Hey, does this costume look right?” his best friend Matt walked into Tom’s room dressed in a burlap sack for a shirt, impressively fake horns on his head, and an enormous amount of tiger striped orange-and-red face makeup. His brown hair stuck out in all directions with green and orange hair gel to color it.

“It’s a costume,” Tom said with a shrug. “You look weird and creepy. That’s enough.”

Matt rested his hands on his hips, huffing loud. “Yeah, but do I pass for a demon? You ought to know.”

Shrugging again, Tom didn’t want to respond. In the stark fluorescent lights, Matt was a decent caricature of a demon—but when he had stepped into the shadows, all the livid colors took on a more realistic hue that reminded Tom of some of the unseen creatures only he was privy to witness on Halloween evenings. It was part of being half-imp, he realized.

“It is good enough,” Tom said again. Then he pulled on the sheer shaggy cloth over his already white clothes, including a hood for his face. It set his already pale skin and near-white hair into ghostly perfection. He grinned at Matt. “Do you think I’d freak out JJ with this getup?”

Matt shrugged, determined to deliver back all the nonchalance Tom had given him. “Good enough.”

Tom snorted then snickered. Both of them could tell when someone was lying.

They left together to the already thundering party inside the school gym. Troy and Randon had gone ahead dressed as two secret agents. Rick was unable to attend. The full moon fell on Halloween that year, and he was stuck hunting as a real wolf for the duration. He and his father went out of state earlier that week to one of their animal reserves and would not return until well after the moon had waned. Tom thought it strangely convenient for a pair of wolves to own so many animal reserves. It was a pantry for wolves, he chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Matt asked, marching with Tom downstairs.

Shrugging again, Tom smirked, “Just thinking about our wolf friend.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. Sucks to be him right now. I think SRA hunters just love searching for his kind during this time of year.”

Tom agreed. Perhaps that was why the Deacons had left New York for the entire week.

The moment they reached the doors to the party, Tom and Matt danced their way in. The music was awesome. The songs were easy to dance to. And the games were better than the usual fare. Of course, with the new staff involved, that was to be expected. Sgt. Kreiner led most of the physical games that not only tested their ability to grasp an apple with their teeth and an orange with their necks; he also had a number of games where they tested their endurance and strength. The boys spent much of their time trying to prove who was the strongest in a race that required they carry buckets filled to the brim with water and apples. It was all about the apples.

Then there was mystic-curious Dr. Pierce. He was still around, despite Tom’s predictions that he would quit before October started. Though, the man had developed a tick at the corner of his eye, and he jumped a lot at nothing. The punked-out PhD put on a magic act, which was mostly sleight-of-hand, flash, and card tricks, with no real magic involved. Tom mimicked him behind his back as the teacher put on the show, purposely getting imps to sabotage most of the tricks in the middle. Dr. Pierce’s deck of cards were now scattered all over the gym floor.

Capt. Eifert was the surprising one. She led all the learned dances, from the line dance in the Thriller music video to her version of the Monster Mash. Most of the other dances she taught were things she made up while on duty in Iraq. And as unlikely as it sounded to the Gulinger students at first, they were all fun.

Of course there were those teachers and administrators that put a damper on the party. As usual, Ms. Arntz watched Tom with scathing suspicion, shouting at him whenever she noticed him messing around with Dr. Pierce, whom she had to comfort that evening before he had another nervous breakdown. The last one hit at the end of September when one of the students set her homework on fire by merely looking at it. That was around the time Tom predicted he would quit. Apparently Ms. Arntz could also calm thoughts and emotions. Matt suspected she had been hired to help with teacher retention. But, during the entire party, Mr. Wilderman scowled over his beach-ball sized body, sick of people asking him if he came to the party dressed as the Good Year blimp.

Mostly everyone had fun.

Nearing eleven in the evening, Matt staggered out of the baking gym to get some fresh air. Too many bodies dancing to Rock Lobster. He stumbled into the hall all the way to the far window and opened it. The alarms hadn’t been set, so it was safe to stick his head outside. No siren would go off. Besides, the student the alarms had been made for was in another state hunting rabbit. Tom stumbled after Matt, first out of curiosity—though once he was in the cooler hallway he understood immediately. He lingered in the doorway, yet he also needed air—and silence. The noise imps made escalated in parties.

Matt gazed up at the sky, breathing in and out, wondering if he would be able to see any stars at all. The New York lights usually obscured them. The night sky was dark, but he noticed flickers of glittery movement above him. Not stars though. No. Not stars.

Their pal Troy pushed his way out the gym door, calling to Tom and then Matt to come back in.

“Hey, Matt!” Tom jogged through the hall towards his pal, laughing with a wave of his hand. “We’d better get back in there! Mr. Jones is about to tell one of his horror stories. True ones.”

Turning to answer, Matt almost pulled his head back into the school. But his eye caught on a glimmer of light reflecting off of something up above that he could barely make out in the darkness. A glittering cloud? More like a reflecting stream full of swimmers…in the sky? He leaned out farther.

“Hey! You might fall out, you know.” Tom snickered, rushing up to him until he was five yards from Matthew. “Come on. Don’t keep me waiting.”

That second, Matt’s feet left the floor. His entire body toppled out the window. Tom lurched after him, grabbing his ankle. It was good he was part imp. A normal human would not have been able to move fast enough.

That’s a little devil… his father is one. Literally.

Spirited Away

But Matt did not fall down. He fell—no—he was pulled up. And Tom, hanging on to him, got yanked up with him.

“Whoa!”

Both boys reeled into the sky, immediately surrounded by thousands of little imps, fairies, nixies, bogles, shellycoats, banshees, and all other sorts of nasties from the faerie realm. Whipping higher in the sky out from the New York buildings, contorted, warped creatures, carried them into the cloudy trail that Matt had seen overhead. One evil looking gremlin turned with a long crooked grin and stared right at Tom. It said in a loud screechy voice, “Looks like we picked up a mortal while we at it, eh?”

Tom grimaced, knowing exactly what they had fallen up into. The Unseelie Court. He swore, letting his wings tear through his costume. He didn’t like doing it, since imp wings were not par the course for a ghost, but he had to show he was no mortal before they attacked him.

“Oh!” several of the pixies and imps chorused, gleefully cheering. A number tugged at Tom’s wings to make sure they were real.

Swatting them off, Tom tucked his sunglasses into Matt’s pants pocket, scowling at the lot of them. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning, dear boy,” a familiar orange-haired, irked little imp with curling horns said, fluttering into Tom’s face, “is that you have been invited to join the Unseelie Court in our All Hallows Eve romp!”

Matt drew in a sharp breath, watching the little imp peer at him next with amusement.

“Though I do believe they mistook this halfer for you.”

Tom swiped at his imp-father, cursing under his breath. The imp fluttered out of reach, cackling.

“Dad! You…. I knew it!” Tom swore again. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone this Halloween!”

The imp snickered. Fluttering upside down, he tugged on Matt’s costume to drag him along. “Funny though. I could have sworn you only hung around boring humans.”

Good thing Matt’s costume was convincing. Both Matt and Tom exchanged looks to that effect.

Tom reached out again, attempting to strangle the little imp that was his father. He merely succeeded in getting the imp to let go of Matt’s shirt. The actual wind current that whisked all the other non-winged creatures along barely suspended Matt in the air, though it was possible the very path they were on was magical. Tom could see it swirling around them like smoke, pulling him on, faster and faster.

New York City was now entirely gone below. Other town lights moved underneath them like little fireflies, all heading east. Or rather, they were going west in a wayless wandering rollercoaster. Matthew shuddered, hoping he wouldn’t fall. Tom hooked his arm in Matt’s, making sure he wouldn’t.

“So, this is your son who sleeps with werewolves.” An odd, short, black faerie thing covered in feathers and hair; built with his entire body only having one arm and one leg…one appendage of everything all aligned down the center of his body; jumped next to Tom and Matt with a gruff snort to the imp. His singular eye and singular ear inclined towards Tom to examine him. His singular finger on his singular hand curled around the end of an enormous spiked club, which he swung at anything that got in his way. About a thousand little pixies held him up so he could fly along with the Horde, huffing and puffing with enormous effort. And if any one of them slacked, the freaky thing shouted something foul…fouler than his breath. The hideous faerie creature eyed Tom’s wings with extreme jealousy. He didn’t have any, despite all the feathers.

Tom’s imp father replied without a care, even as the club swung to crush him, “Ah yes. Jack. I forgot about the werewolf.” He looked to Tom. “You still room with that kid?”

Moaning, Tom nodded. “Of course. No one else will. And I don’t mind it.”

Matt ducked as the ill-tempered Jack swung his club again. Tom jerked his friend out of the way.

“Hey! Don’t do that!” Tom growled at him.

“I hate everything about you, halfer,” the hairy, weird Jack snarled back. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Don’t care.”

Snorting, the black hairy-feathery faerie folk swung at Tom again before saying, “I’m known as Peg-leg Jack. The Fachan. Heard of me now?”

Tom shook his head.

Matt nodded.

Jack eyed Matt then snorted. He pointed at Matt with his club. “You don’t got wings. Good. Not fair that imps have ‘em. Not fair at all.”

Just then a goblin scrambled over Jack’s head, klonking him before chasing after a nearly naked nixie who cackled farther up the line. It made obscene gestures at him. Jack growled, diving after them. Or rather, the pixies carrying him heaved him after the goblin.

Not that they were in better company with him gone, surrounding them, Tom and Matt found themselves in the center of a cadre of ill-tempered bogles. The various tall, short, lean, fat, elfish, trollish faerie folk were bragging about the numerous people they bludgeoned on their way to the Halloween Highway. That was what they called the cloudy path that carried the winged and un-winged members of the Unseelie Court through the sky. Somewhere along the route, Tom’s dad lost himself in the throng, dancing with another imp, then a little horned thing, then a half-horse half-freaky water demon that Matt murmured under his breath about, calling it a brag. And coming right behind them were a slew of redcaps. Not the hats—the demon-goblins that bludgeoned wounded people in old houses and battle fields then washed their own hats in the blood. 

And the faerie folk around them danced faster.

It was a wild spinning sort of dance, one that gathered up hapless humans along the way, mostly those that looked up and could actually see the Unseelie Court flying overhead. That was what had snagged Matt, Tom had decided. Otherwise he would have been left alone. Though it was likely the Halloween Highway had been circling the school in hopes that Tom would stick his head out. Apparently the Horde could not come indoors without permission.

Matt struggled to keep control of his limbs but he could not stop shaking, the blood running out of his face. Truly terrified. White as a sheet under all that orange-and-red makeup. Give him the Mafia. Let them pull out their guns. These faeries were worse.

Then the sluagh came. Hosts of the unforgiven dead that usually flew from the west to carry dying souls away with them flocked together backward with the east-going souls on the Halloween Highway. Wraith-like and gaunt, they peered at Matt first then Tom. Their tattered clothes dangled off of them the same as Tom’s ghostly costume—though theirs were probably centuries old. Some were in Victorian clothing.

One smiled.

It was an evil grin that sent shudders through Matt, though Tom just stuck out his tongue at it…as did all the other imps around them.

Then towards them floated one of the loveliest, most out-of-place faerie women Tom and Matt had ever seen. Long golden hair, the envy of Rapunzel, steel gray eyes so icy she could freeze hearts with a look. She turned her head just so, set the corner of her eye on Matt and snorted like a tyrannical queen would at a little peasant begging for mercy under her heel. But when she turned her eyes on Tom. He scowled at her with bright orange eyes, She smiled, her perfect lips curling up with the same amusement a doting queen would have on an infant. Then she spoke.

Queen of the Unseelie Court

Her voice was like the rushing of water, filling their ears with her magnanimous grace. “So you are the one.”

“The one what?” Tom snapped back. He grabbed the nearest bogle and chucked it at her.

It didn’t hit her though. It whirled off in terror, swearing at Tom the loudest anyone had ever cursed at him in his life. “…Idiot! She’s the queen!”

Tom barked back at him. “I don’t—”

But Matt slapped both trembling hands over Tom’s mouth, smothering the rest of his words before his best friend got them both killed. “Bad move. Don’t you know who that is?” he hissed in Tom’s ear.

Rolling his eyes, Tom pushed his friend’s hands off his face with a backward look. “Should I?”

The elegant faerie queen chuckled gently in her throat. But it was like acid to the ears of the faeries around her. They cringed, waiting for both Tom and Matt to get vaporized. The procession almost lurched to a stop. Some in the horde broke out from the long whipping westward trail. She glided closer to them. Matt leaned away in sheer terror, though she wasn’t coming for him. She touched Tom on the nose with her long white finger, the sharp nail barely scraping the tip as she said, “You should. But then, one with so much potential being raised by mortals, treated as a pariah though you haven’t even tapped into your full abilities yet—clearly your growth has been stunted.”

“Hey,” Tom jerked back. “I have a one-eighty IQ”

She lifted her steel gray eyes to the stars above, snickering lightly. “Mortals. As if our intelligence is some limited thing a human can rate. I’m talking about unlimited potential. Faerie potential. I am Queen Maeve. Queen of the Unseelie Court.”

But Tom looked unimpressed. “Seriously?”

This time she frowned. Turning to Matt she said, “Mortal. Tell him who I am.”

Matt shuddered. Clearly she could see through his costume.

He said, “Tom—”

But Tom held up his hand. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I saw this thing on Romeo and Juliet with this whole speech. Also known as Mab. Once ruler of all faerie folk until Oberon overthrew you. Am I right?”

She bristled. Clearly she didn’t like being reminded of Oberon’s political coup d'état.

“Look,” Tom said, leaning in. “Your Highness and stuff. I’m half imp. Ok? I have a short attention span. We don’t care about stuff like royalty. We were at a Halloween party. We’d like to go back.”

Haughty in her looks, she snorted at him again as she would a child. But then she lifted her chin higher, her eyes peering at Matt who had been hearing the thoughts behind her words. She had been thinking how fun it would be to just take Tom and his mortal pal with her into the faerie mound. She’d torture the human and watch what effect it would have on his half-imp friend. Her eyes sparkled with relish, realizing he heard her.

“Oh. So you are also gifted,” she said with a nod to Matt. “Not mere in mortal terms after all.”

Tom seized hold on Matt’s arm again, growling at her. A faerie did not have imps to lead them into temptation, but they shouted all sorts of nasty things for her to do to the boys from Gulinger anyway.

“Try anything, and I’ll upend the entire Unseelie Court with one suggestion to all those imps flying around you. You know they are entirely uncontrollable.” He glared hard on her, refusing to be intimidated by her ageless power and beauty. “I could make them do all sorts of nasty stuff to you.”

Rolling her eyes, she replied with a light flutter off, ignoring the eager gleam in the imps’ eyes as they indeed would love any idea Tom had, “Oh, calm yourself. I was only playing.”

But her play, both Matt and Tom were sure, was often deadly. She was, after all, the faerie credited for intoxication. Whether that was true or not was a moot point. She exuded power.  

Yet she flew ahead with her entourage without another thought to them.

And the dancing of the faerie folk around them spun into overdrive. It was like they were making up for lost time.

Among the Faerie Folk

And they danced even faster.

Matt was exhausted, hardly able to remain upright let alone bear the dragging, poking and prodding of all the bogles and faerie folk around them. Tom kept up well enough, his imp strength almost relentless. His eyes flickered to the others dancing with the faeries on the Halloween Highway. Other humans.

Among them was a man in a suit coat holding a broken umbrella. He shouted with a British accent, trying to bat off the brags and redcaps with it. Mostly tatters of black cloth hung onto the wire, and even that was bent. Farther ahead Tom saw a woman in a slinky bunny costume chased about by a Barghest—an enormous black dog specter with large claws and teeth. Her bunny-ear headband hung askew over her right ear, and she had lost one of her spike-heeled shoes. Her fuzzy bunny tail had been shredded into about five hairs where the dog had repeatedly bit at her. And then there was a man in a bright purple Zorro costume, a man in a dark trench coat, and a teenage boy all punked-out. The teen had about a dozen earrings and piercings all over his body, his hair long and dyed in neon blue and pink, Goth eye makeup dribbling down his cheeks from all the crying he was doing.

Snagging Matt by the arm, Tom kicked two bogles out of his way, jumped over a shellycoat, and slid under the shape-shifting Hedley Kow that turned from a goat form into that of a voluptuous woman to get his attention. It tugged on Tom’s wings as he went under.

“Grab that kid’s arm,” Tom hissed to Matt with a look at the punk.

Matt nodded, hearing the rest of Tom’s thoughts, including his plan. As soon as the sun rose, the Halloween Highway would be going underground. He needed to get to the other humans before they all went down together. Nothing good ever came of ending up in a faerie mound.

“Hey!” Matt seized the weeping Goth boy’s arm.

The boy jerked out of reach at first, screaming. “Let me alone! I wanna go home!”

Tom smacked the back of the boy’s head, shouting. “Grab on!”

Wrapping his hand around the Goth teen’s wrist, Matt clenched tight. Tom pulled them both down, under a banshee to the lady in the sexy bunny costume.

“Grab hold!” Tom shouted to her.

She screamed the second she saw his orange eyes, but Matt tugged off his horned headband to show her they were just two guys in costume. It was enough. She seized the Goth boy’s other arm and whipped down with the flow the Highway to the next mortal.

Tom went fast. Strong among the imps also, he tossed Matt to the British man with the umbrella while he grabbed the seat of the purple Zorro man’s pants, wrangling the cape around his wrist to make him move. Then he shoved all three hostages to Matt, whipped up with a flip, snagging the collar of trench-coat man. Jumping hard, Tom glanced once at the breaking sun rising from the eastern horizon. He wrapped one arm around Matt’s waist, and called out to the imps that surrounded them, “Lower us safely into the ocean water!”

“What for?” one big-horned snarled-looking imp with violent red hair said, fluttering around them.

“Dead humans are no fun!” Tom shouted.

The Halloween Highway was heading to a faerie ring in the lawn of a large estate. The toadstools were large, but probably sprouted overnight. If they didn’t jump off now, they would be stuck in the faerie realm for centuries—if they were lucky.

That imp snorted.

However, the other imps around the humans shared panicked looks. Human mischief was their food source after all.

“You can get everything they own soaked!” Tom screamed then pulled Matt and all the other humans out of the faerie procession in one gigantic leap.

Free falling. No parachutes. Matt hoped Tom’s tiny wings were strong enough for six humans besides him.

The Halloween Highway swooped in a swift arc down into the faerie ring. A hole opened up, sucking them all down in a whirling vortex. All the dark faerie folk cackled, pointing at the humans as they plummeted to the earth like rocks. Tom strained to slow them down.

Then, unexpectedly, all seven of them flipped upside down. Pushed by a warm gust, they landed in a huge splash into the center of the mansion’s enormous swimming pool. The chlorinated water heaved out over the sides, washing the pebbled concrete all the way to the grass.

Queen Maeve landed with a tap on the pool edge, chuckling lightly and peering down. Little fairies held up her train.

Tom came top first. He choked out the water, wishing Selena was there to get it out of his lungs, and clutched the pool side.

“Very clever, Tom Brown,” the faerie queen of the Unseelie Court said. She tilted her head at an angle, watching the others come up less quickly. The man in the dark trench coat struggled the most to keep afloat as his coat dragged him down. Matt pulled him to the pool edge, breathing more easily now that he was (mostly) on the ground. Her eyes glittered with amused malevolence. “Indeed, you are trouble. It is fitting they gave you that name. And as a parting gift for such an entertaining journey, I bestow on you more trouble to play with.”

She fluttered lightly off, barely touching the ground. And she sank into the faerie ring. The Horde followed her until it closed up. Only the mushrooms and grass remained as proof they had been there.

Selena Davenport, girlfriend and half siren.

Tom's Little Problem

Matt swam over to Tom. “That did not sound good.”

“No, it didn’t.” Tom agreed.

Both of them then looked back to the drenched human beings inside the swimming pool. The Goth boy was floating on his back, staring up at the brightening sky and thanking whatever deities he believed in that he was alive. The woman in the skanky bunny costume was crossing herself, promising some invisible saint that she would be good from then on. And the British man sloshed up the pool steps, swearing England-style, shaking out his umbrella and his coat with a stomp of his feet. Purple Zorro ripped off his cape to stop it from strangling him. But the man in the black trench coat stared at Matt and Tom at the pool edge. His dark eyes gave Matt the shivers.

“Ok.” Tom heaved himself out of the pool, fluttering his wings to shake off the water.

The five freed hostages screamed.

“Shhhh!” Matt hissed. “Calm down! We’re trespassing, and the people living here might hear us!”

Tom extended a hand to help Matt out of the water. Matt took it, heaving himself onto solid ground. He waggled his arms to shake off the excess damp. His costume was all tatters, making him look even more awful with all the dripping grease makeup.

The others swam to the pool edge, climbing out silently, though every one of them stared at the two boys with undisguised fear. The woman glanced at the Goth boy, biting her lower lip. The Goth boy appeared ready to cry again. It was only when the Brit stepped over to Tom and Matt with candor and said, “What’s this going on? What are you?” that they realized that neither Tom nor Matt would hurt them.

Matt shrugged. “We’re just a couple of dudes snatched from a Halloween party.”

The British man shook his head, his eyes settling most specifically on Tom. “Not him. He is not just some ‘dude’.” The Brit said it with disdain, peering coldly at Tom.

Tom tilted back his head only slightly, noting all the imps that had remained behind with them. The Brit’s imps were just the average set. Nothing extraordinary about them. The sexy bunny woman’s were mildly plump, well fed with her kind of mischief. The Goth kid’s were downright fat but awfully stupid. As for those of Zorro, they shouted suggestions bordered on the perverse. But the imps of the somber man in the dark trench coat were larger than normal, with enormous horns that curled like rams’ and vibrant demonic hair color. And their eyes were also intense, full of hatred. These were not run-of-the-mill imps at all. Tom frowned at them.

Matt shrugged again for the Brit who waited for an answer. He glanced at Tom who he knew was assessing their situation.

“For now, he is,” Matt said. “Besides, he’s the one who got us out.”

“Out of what?” The woman limped over to them on one high heel, one bare foot. “What were those freaky things? What just happened to us?”

The Goth boy nodded vigorously, staring from Matt who rubbed his makeup on his sleeve to keep it from dribbling into his eyes, to Tom. Matt’s makeup had smeared believably enough to show he was indeed human.  

Tom pulled his sunglasses out from Matt’s back pocket and put them on. He said to Matt, “Hold on a second.”

Matt shuddered. There were a lot more thoughts that came behind those words, so much that Tom wanted to say but couldn’t out loud. Matt glanced to the man in the trench coat. He nodded to Tom.

To the others, Matt whispered, waving them close, “Ok, first, we need to get out of this yard. Once we’re out of this fix, then we can talk.”

Zorro nodded, leaping behind Matt. All of them kept their distance from Tom, putting Matt between them. It was no wonder. Tom’s wings still stuck out through his ghostly costume, fluttering with a twitch to get off the rest of the damp.

Matt pointed for Tom to lead. Matt then followed him. The others followed Matt. The man in the trench coat took up the rear with intense watchfulness. It was a lot of yard to cover. Most of it was grass though there were flowers in beds along low fences to contain certain parts. A tennis court lay behind that. On one side of the yard stood a stone fence, wrought iron bars framed between pillars. It had spiked pickets at the top. The other side stood a solid wall with a thorny hedge before it. Tom peered at that one, heading to it, still thinking of what to do.

Matt inched next to Tom’s ear. “Are you going to pull us through or make us climb over? Those thorns look sharp.”

Shrugging, Tom said, “I haven’t decided yet. He’s a problem.”

Nodding, Matt glanced back at the man in the trench coat.

The man’s glare deepened on them. Clearly he knew they were talking about him.

Tom nodded to himself.

“Ok, I’ve decided.” Tom turned around dramatically, five yards before the thorny stone wall. “I can get us through, but you have to trust me.”

All of the former hostages of the Unseelie Court shuddered—except for Matt who nodded.

“You see,” Tom said, rocking on his squishy water-filled tennis shoes, “That limey guessed right. I’m not a normal human.”

The Goth kid’s imps tempted him to say “duh”, but wisely thought against it. The British man narrowed his eyes at Tom for being called a limey. The Brit’s imps shouted at him to call Tom all sorts of foul things in response.

“I’m half imp, which makes me an unofficial member of the Unseelie Court.” Tom glanced to the Brit with a nod.

“Ah…” The British man squared his shoulders, comprehension settling in his eyes. His imps silenced, sulking. He was the only one to do so. Everyone else remained confused.

“The Unseelie Court, for those who don’t know, is that bunch of nasties that just took us on a wild ride all the way to…” Tom then looked to Matt, “Where do you think we are?”

Matt shrugged. “West Coast? California?”

“Probably Seattle, looking at the foliage,” the man in the Zorro costume muttered in a daze.

With a nod to him, Tom smiled. “Yeah. Anyway, they are a bunch of faerie folk and demons that would have taken us into the faerie realm with them. But lucky you—I was here.”

“Lucky us?” The woman stared, blinking her glitzy fake eyelashes at him in complete stupefaction. “How is it lucky? You’re a freak!”

“Hey, hey!” Matt held up his hands. “That’s my best friend you are talking about.”

“Best friend?” The Goth boy’s voice squeaked. “He’s got orange eyes and wings!”

Matt shrugged. “So? He’s the reason you aren’t demon food, or whatever they had planned for us in the fairy mound. Personally, I think you all ought to thank him. Besides, because he has those eyes and wings, he can walk through walls.”

They stared even harder. The woman just about fell over. Her one heel sank in the grass. Each one was thinking: Walk through walls?

“Now,” Tom said, turning towards the wall with three more steps, “I’m going to walk each one of you through this to the curb—”

“Are you sure there is a road on that other side?” the man in the trench coat asked. It was the first time he spoke. Matt inched away from him, glancing once to Tom.

Tom lifted up his chin with a glare specifically for him. “I heard the imps on the other side of the wall where a jogger just passed by.”

“Imps?” the Brit murmured, puzzling with a glance around.

“They’re invisible,” Matt replied, leaning towards them. “And every person has at least one following him.”

“Hmm.” The British man scratched his chin, frowning.

But the others searched around themselves in panic. The idea of being followed by invisible supernatural things after that crazy ride with the Unseelie Court was entirely too much for them to take. But of course, none of them saw any.

Tom reached out his hand to the group. “Ok, who is coming first with me?”

None of them dared. The Goth boy and woman in the bunny costume inched back.

Hanging his shoulders with a roll of his eyes, Matt took a step forward. “I will. These guys are too chicken.”

The British man blustered. The man in the Zorro costume muttered something under his breath. But the Goth boy glanced at the woman without any regrets for admitting that he was scared stiff. The man in the trench coat stood silently, watching.

And Matt stepped forward, letting Tom wrap an arm around him. They leapt together into the thorny solid wall, going straight through it.

On the other side, they staggered to get their footing on the sidewalk which unexpectedly sloped. The road dipped down on their right into a valley where Tom and Matt could see the distant ocean. The house itself rested on top of a hill. Across the street they could see the remains of Halloween: a smashed pumpkin and some spilled candy in front of a fancy bisque-colored stucco home with blue Spanish tiles on the roof. Halloween decorations mixed with toilet paper dangled damply from the still-leafy trees on the lawn.

Taking a step back, Matt let go of Tom, whispering, “What do you think?”

Tom emitted a tense sigh, glancing back at the wall before he said, “I’ll get the innocent idiots out. You take them across the road. Then I’ll deal with the psycho.”

Matt nodded.

Tom hopped straight through the solid wall again, landing on the grass.

 The five jumped back.

“I’m fine!” Matt called, his voice echoing not far from the other side.

“Who’s next?” Tom looked to the five of them, though his eyes set on the Goth kid first. The boy sprang back in fright, especially at how Tom’s orange eyes glittered mischievously above his sunglasses.

In a jump Tom said, “You’ll do,” and seized the Goth boy around the wrist. He yanked him straight through the wall in another leap.

“Waah!”

The boy staggered on the sidewalk, flung straight to Matt who snickered the second the boy fell into his arms.

The Goth boy looked up, around at the open street then let out a whoop. “I’m out! It’s safe!”

With a nod, Tom jumped back through the wall again.

“How does he do that?” the Goth boy murmured after him, leaning on Matt. That was all the strength he had to stand.

This time Tom grabbed the woman. She screamed when he seized her arm, and tried to kick him. But Tom pushed off the ground and fluttered into the wall with a heave. They both  went through in one flopping drop to the tilted sidewalk. She toppled straight into the Goth boy. Tears just barely cracked out of her eyes in protest until she realized that she was unharmed. She hugged the Goth boy with all her might, mouthing a silent thanks to God for getting her through alive. Though the boy he stared up at the sky, thanking God a woman so barely dressed was squeezing her enormous chest against his face.

Matt slapped the Goth boy on the back of his head. “Knock it off.”

“Are you men all right over there?” Tom called back.

Those on the other side barely murmured.

Matt nodded to Tom, tugging the two with him off to the side.

Drawing in a breath, Tom jumped from them again into the wall.

Bursting straight through again with a snicker, Tom landed like Peter Pan on the grass. “Who’s next?”

The man in the trench coat stepped forward.

But Tom seized purple Zorro’s shirt front then grabbed the Brit by his tie, wrenching them both to, then through, the wall in three bounds. He dragged them to the other side, tossing them both to Matt who was already prepared to catch them. The woman and Goth boy were now in the gutter, keeping their distance. The men staggered to get their footing. Then all of them backed off the curb into the road, Matt nodding to Tom.

“Ok,” Tom said just above a whisper, hunching down. “You all go with Matt while I deal with the creepy dude.”

“The creepy dude?” the Goth boy repeated with a complete dumbfounded stare on Tom. The boy’s imps were shouting for him to correct Tom and tell him that he was the creepy dude. Tom laughed the second he heard it.

Tom shooed them to go, hopping backward. Then he whipped about, drew in another breath for courage and jumped. His body went straight through the wall, something none of the four others could get used to.

The second Tom was gone, Matt urged them all to cross the street, jogging ahead of them. “We need to get over here fast!”

“Why?” Purple Zorro asked, yet following Matt anyway.

The Brit hurried, his fancy leather shoes oozing water with each step. He left a trail of prints. His broken umbrella hung on his arm like a dead bat as he stared back at the wall, waiting for the last man.

“Because,” Matt said when he reached the other side, nudging away the crushed pumpkin with his foot, “I can read thoughts. And that man back there is a serial killer. The Unseelie Court picked him up because they wanted to have fun with him in a bad way.”

The color drained out of the faces of all four. Then they stared back at the wall.

“A serial killer?”

“You can read minds?” the Brit asked on top of that.

Matt rolled his eyes, nodding tiredly. “Yeah, long story.”

They stared more at him.

Sighing, Matt peered back across the road, hoping Tom knew what he was doing. After all, they couldn’t leave a killer in someone’s backyard any more than they could let him loose on their side. Strictly speaking, the Unseelie Court tormented murderers. They would have gotten rid of the man had Tom not rescued him. That was what Queen Maeve meant by trouble.

Real Trouble

Tom landed back on the other side of the wall, pretending to do for the creepy man in the trench coat what he had for the others. He smiled broad. “Ready?”

But the man was not there.

Tom looked around for a second, going ashen. A killer on the loose in some unsuspecting sleeping rich dude’s house—very bad. Very, very bad.

But the next second the killer came out of hiding, seized Tom around the back and whipped a long knife up to his throat. “You will do exactly as I tell you.” The man breathed heavily against Tom’s neck. “You will take me to the house. You will get me the owner’s car keys, and you will drive us both to where I tell you.”

Shaking his head, Tom snorted; glad the man had not gone far after all. “Are you for real?”

“I will slit you,” the killer hissed.

Tom snorted again.

The killer deftly swiped his knife across Tom’s throat, then through it.

Had Tom been human, it would have severed his windpipe and jugular. But nothing happened. Not even a scratch.

Tom elbowed the man in the gut. Then he whipped around, kicking the man in the groin. It sent the man straight into the thorn bushes. With a nimble flick and catch, Tom snatched the knife the killer had used to threaten him, twirling it lightly between his fingers. A crooked grin spread on Tom’s face. He lowered his sunglasses to peer at the man who was now howling in pain, struggling to pull himself out of the tangle of thorns. Those howls could wake the owners, but Tom didn’t care anymore.

“You idiot. I’m not some ordinary mortal.” Tom side-stepped in front of him. “If I can walk through walls, I can make it so knives can’t hurt me.” Tom then spun the knife point on the tip of his finger. “You see, imps are minor demons. Half imps are doubly so. And you have made your last murder attempt.”

“Gaah!” The killer jerked off the thorny wall, tearing large holes in his trench coat. He pulled out a gun from a deep inside pocket, pointing it at Tom.

Tom rolled his eyes tiredly. “Oh please.”

The man squeezed the trigger.

*Click*

Tom sighed.

*Click*

Rolling his eyes again, Tom stomped over and grabbed the man by his shirt front. In one bound, he jumped through the wall, pushing the man with him, though he was tempted to simply leave the serial killer in the wall. Tom pulled them both through—mostly. Flipping himself in front of the killer, he left both of the killer’s hands in the stone, hopping out the rest of the way with a satisfied guffaw. His wings fluttered when he lightly touched down on the concrete.

“There!” Tom hopped back farther, wobbling on the tilted curb. His soaked sneakers squished out another oozing squeak. “That should do it!”

The serial killer yowled, tugging and shrieking to get loose. But his screams came also in sheer pain. Every cell in his hands had merged with the stone. No blood was moving through them.

Matt jogged across the street. Angling his head to the side to see Tom’s handiwork, Matt nodded. “Good idea. And he’ll make enough noise to draw attention for someone to call the police.”

The others remained on the other side of the street, staring in horror.

Tom turned around, grinning. He held up the knife then wiped off the handle on his shirt to take away his fingerprints. Calling out to the nearest imp, he said, “Get me a policeman’s note pad and pen.”

It was one of Matt’s imps. It snickered, and in a whip it was gone. Three seconds later it was back with a notepad that had a half-written ticket on it. Tom tore that off, tossing it over his shoulder. Immediately he scrawled out a brief note. Dotting his I’s and crossing the T’s—then, with the knife, he stabbed the note into the wall just above the serial killer’s head. He drew an arrow pointing down. It said:

The Boston Butcher

Do not touch if you value your life.

Contact Police

Or Agent Thomas Danes of the CIA

“There.” Tom stepped back to smile at his handiwork.

Matt nodded approvingly.

“Uh, pardon me, Mr. uh, whatever-your-name-is.” The British man raised his umbrella for attention, crossing the street at a march but still keeping out of Tom’s arms’ reach. “But, uh, you don’t intend to leave him there, do you?”

Tom turned around with a nod. “Of course I do. And now that that is done, we’d better figure out a way home. Where were you exactly when you got picked up?”

“Kensington,” the man replied, still not looking settled with the whole thing. He frowned with a glance at the killer who was screaming at the top of his lungs. The killer’s face was balloon red, and sweat dribbled down. “Look. I don’t mean to push my situation with you supernatural creatures than I already have but—”

“You were messing with the Unseelie Court?” Matt asked with a snicker. He wiped off more Halloween makeup with his sleeve. “What did you do? Step in a fairy ring?”

The British man frowned deeper, eyeing Matt specifically. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Both Tom and Matt broke into cackles.