Bad Luck Girl (23 page)

I was dog tired, but I didn’t lie down. Instead, I took Jack’s battered notebook out of my pocket and looked at it. The wind blew in through the window, rustling Touhy and all her books on their shelves. I opened the notebook to a random page and squinted at it. There was plenty of moonlight, but I couldn’t read the smeary pencil writing, at least not at first. A couple of my live words crawled out from under the page, and decided to help out by fitting themselves to those other words so they stood out better.

“I’m Dirty Dan, King of the Outlaws!” crowed the desperado. “The man who can lick me ain’t been born!”

“We’ll see about that!” In one swift movement the stranger drew his Colt .45 and fired off a single shot. Dirty Dan let out a bloodcurdling scream and …

I closed the book fast. I did not need to be hearing Jack’s voice inside my mind. I looked at Touhy’s shelves. I could tuck this book up there with all the others. It’d be better than throwing it away. It’d be safe here, and my pages and words would even be among friends. Would the words turn into Halfers if they hung around here long enough? Had I
just made a whole bunch of new people? And here I was trying to figure out how fast I could get rid of them.

What would Jack think of that?
I bit my lip and slid the notebook back into my pocket.

The wind blew in through the open window, bringing the smell of the lake and the rustle of the tree branches. Their dim reflections shifted in Touhy’s four-paned mirror. I shouldn’t have looked at them, not so soon after running my thoughts over the loose magic I carried in my pocket. Those reflections got me thinking about the war on the other side of the betwixt and between. I wondered if it was still going on, or if it was over, and if it was, who’d won. That got me wondering what Papa was doing now, and Mama, and Jack, even though I told myself I shouldn’t be wondering about them. Ever.

Curiosity’s a hard thing. It pushes and it pinches and it won’t go away until you do what it wants. I could tell already, I wasn’t getting any sleep until I had some answers.

Just once
, I growled as I got to my feet.
This once only
.

I faced the mirror and opened my magic senses. Thing was, I didn’t have a solid idea what I really wanted to see. So maybe that’s why each one of those colored panes showed me something different. There was Dan Ryan, kicking up stones and sand in the dark by the black, restless waves of what had to be Lake Michigan. Tears ran down his dirty face. In the next pane, I saw the shining ruin that was the palace of the Midnight Throne. My uncle stood there, tall and proud in his fairy prince clothes and obsidian mask. Three
goblins—squat stones with twisted vines for arms and gnarled roots for legs—scurried in. They dragged a Halfer with them. She was a thin, brittle woman who could have been made from glass, or ice. Uncle Shake smiled at her and then turned and bowed. Somebody else was in that room with him, but all I could see was the small, pale hand that beckoned to the Halfer woman. The anger drained from the woman’s face, replaced by a terrible shining expression of hope. The goblins let go, and the Halfer walked forward to take that pale hand.

I dropped my gaze to the last pane, and there I saw Jack. He perched on the rail of the tenement balcony, one arm wrapped around the post. His mouth was moving and he was staring out at the glowing smokestacks. I knew what he was doing. Jack was singing. He was singing to me. Singing for me. I heard the words in my head, plain as day.

“
 … I wish I was a tiny sparrow
,

“
And I had wings, and I could fly
.

“I’d fly away to my own true lover.…”

But Jack’s song froze, and his shoulders stiffened. He jumped off the railing to the balcony, turning around, turning right toward me. I clamped my magic shut, and the reflection winked out.

“Touhy?” I said to the dark.

“What?” she muttered.

“This place is protected, right?”

“Yeah. Can’t nobody find us here.”

“Good.” I laid my palm over Jack’s notebook. “Good.”

Something was pulling on me. It had hold of my guts and my head and I was being dragged away.

“Engine, engine number nine, going down Chicago line …”

My eye snapped open. I shrieked and tumbled off the bed at the same time, coming down on my feet like some part of me had decided I was the world’s biggest cat. My magic reared up all in an instant, slicing through the sick dragging sensation. Or almost through it.

“If the train should jump the track …”

I whipped around to the window. Dan Ryan crouched on a branch outside, his long toes wrapped around the swaying limb and his burlap sack open in his greasy hands. The first gray light of dawn was just sliding through the leaves, and he thought he’d caught me napping.

“What’re you doing?” Touhy rolled off the bed in her
paper ball shape and planted herself in front of the balcony window.

“Outta my way!” snarled Dan Ryan. “Don’t think I won’t take you too, you traitor!”

“You leave her alone!” I scrambled over to Touhy’s side.

Dan Ryan hissed and shook his sack. “You’re getting in here, Callie LeRoux! You’re getting in now and you’re staying this time!”

He had a good piece of my name, and its power pushed hard. I actually stumbled forward a couple steps before I could reach out with my own magic and snap that summons in two. Dan Ryan growled a cuss word.

“Cut it out, Dan Ryan!” Touhy shouted. “You heard the council!”

Heads started poking out of windows around and below us. Somebody snapped the lights on.

Dan Ryan didn’t care. He jumped straight through the open window, sack and all. I knocked Touhy sideways, and we both fell to the floor. I scrambled away, scared sick that I’d tear her. Ryan hit the bed, and the floor, and grabbed up the tail of Touhy’s paper dress. I felt his fury, and I snatched it up and turned it around, putting the magic behind a solid swipe of my fist straight at Ryan’s head. The notebook in my pocket shuddered hard, and all at once papers and words were flying everywhere. Ryan ducked my arm, but paper covered him and sent him stumbling backward while words buzzed angrily around his head. He lost his hold on his sack,
and it landed on top of Touhy. She grabbed the bag in both hands and rolled herself up tight around it.

Dan Ryan cussed so hot he could have burned the place down. He scrabbled at my pages with hands and magic, getting clear enough that he could launch himself straight at us both. But a brown-and-white arm shot in through the window and grabbed his belt. Ashland yanked Ryan roughly backward so he banged against the wall.

“Enough!” Wood slammed on the balcony rail, and Calumet heaved himself over it to stand beside Ashland. His eyes were as hard and angry as his words. “Touhy!” He swatted at my swarming words. “Control these things!”

“Those aren’t mine!” She pointed one paper finger at me. “They’re hers!”

A blush crawled up my neck and bloomed across my face. I opened my notebook and sent a wish to the pages and words. They didn’t want to come back. They liked it out here. It was way more fun than being shut up in some old book. I had to wish again. This time they came. I closed the notebook and tucked it away again. This was definitely going to be trouble sooner or later.

But there was more trouble standing right in front of me. All Ashland’s feathers were ruffled up.

“Who started this?” Calumet’s voice crackled with anger.

“Sorry, Calumet,” said Touhy, but she didn’t unroll herself. “Dan Ryan startled Bad Luck, and she took a swing at him.”

“Yeah.” Dan Ryan twisted around, yanking his rope belt out of Ashland’s hand so he could get back on his feet. “I
startled
her.”

That was the best they could do? I had to fight to keep my eyes from rolling. I guess I’d gotten too used to Jack’s level of storytelling. Dan Ryan glowered at me. I glowered back. My gaze slid over to Touhy, who had poked her girl’s face up out of her crumpled-up body. It was stupid, but some things are ground hard into you. Right then, with Ashland and Calumet towering over us, I plain and simple didn’t want to be the tattletale. Plus, I couldn’t forget that Dan Ryan’s father had been taken by the Seelies, or the Unseelies. Could I really blame him for being angry and desperate?

“Sorry,” I muttered instead. “I don’t like being startled.”

But Calumet wasn’t buying it, not at any price. “Where’s your sack, Dan Ryan?”

Dan Ryan shifted his glower over to Touhy. Touhy unrolled. The burlap bag fell onto the floor.

Ashland’s black eyes glittered and she picked up the sack. Ryan winced like she’d pulled his hair, but she paid no mind. “So you three decided you’d just settle this among yourselves, did you?”

“Well, you weren’t doing anything about it!” shouted Ryan. “How long are we gonna wait? They could all be dead already! We got her! We’ve got to use her
now!
”

“You are not the only person who’s lost family.” Calumet’s splinters rose and fell on his back, in time with his hard
breathing. “If we’re lucky, we might just get one chance to strike back. If we waste it, we are all of us done for.” He waited for that to have time to sink in. “Maybe the council should keep your sack if you can’t handle it responsibly.”

For the first time since I’d met him, I saw Dan Ryan look scared.

“No, it’s okay,” I said. “Give it to him. He won’t try startling me again.”

For a minute I thought the councilors were going to demand an explanation. I could feel their curiosity, and Touhy’s, winding around my shoulders. But Ashland and Calumet just exchanged their own glance, and Ashland handed the sack to Dan Ryan. “Save it for important things,” she said.

Ryan tucked the bag under his rope belt. “We are not done here,” he told me. “Not by a long shot.”

“Didn’t think so,” I muttered. We didn’t get any further, though.

“Oy! Get Bad Luck down here!” A sizzling, hissing voice called up from below. “We got us a problem!”

“You mean another one,” grumbled Calumet. “Touhy, when this is over, the council wants a word with you too.”

That drew a grin from Dan Ryan nasty enough to almost make me forget I felt sorry for him and start up the fight again. If the Halferville councilors hadn’t all been busy giving me the stink eye, I just might have. As it was, I slowly turned my back to show him I wasn’t afraid of him at all, and followed Ashland to find out what kind of new trouble I was in.

Of course it was Jack. Who else would it be?

He stood a couple yards back from Halferville’s magic shield. He had a handful of pebbles, and he was pitching them at that wall of heat, watching where they sizzled and fell to the ground. But as soon as I cleared the trees with the Halfers, Jack dropped his stones and charged forward, until the heat hit him and he had to fall back.

“Who’s that?” demanded Glowing Man.

“He’s a friend of Bad Luck’s,” said Touhy. I noticed she and Glowing Man kept a careful distance from each other.

“We figured that much,” Glowing Man shot back. “What’s he
doing
here?

Right then he was shouting. I could see his face, but I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to mouth,
I’m fine. Go away!
but he just shook his head.

“How can he even see us?” muttered Calumet. He was giving me the stink eye again, and putting everything he had into it too. “He’s full human.”

“It’s an accident,” I said. “I made a wish for something else, and it stuck.” Last night, I’d tried to tell myself my wish couldn’t be that strong. The Halfers had good magic, and they knew what they were doing. My wish on Jack’s eyesight couldn’t really be stronger than their shield. Looks like I was wrong again.

Touhy rolled her eyes and muttered something about the high court I was pretty sure I didn’t want to understand all the way.

“This is bad.” Ashland’s voice dropped to a nervous twitter as Jack cupped his hands around his mouth to shout some more. “He’ll draw attention.”

“You think so, do you?” sneered Glowing Man. “Bad Luck, whoever this is, you get rid of him.”

I waved at Jack with both hands, gesturing for him to just leave. He squinted at me and backed up a step. And squinted again. When I didn’t do anything else, he shook his head and took a run at the barrier. He slammed right up against it with his shoulder and bounced back hard. His shirt was smoking where it had hit, and a black patch spread across the upper arm.

“What are you, cracked?” I shouted. “Get out of here! You’ll get hurt!”

But Jack just slammed that smoking shoulder against the Halferville shield again and again. His shirt was sparking and he had to slap at it before it actually started on fire.

“You can’t get in here! Go away! Go home!” I waved my arms and made giant shooing motions. But Jack wasn’t even looking at me. Instead, he fished out the notebook he always carried, scribbled something on a page, and held it up.

NOT GOING UNTIL YOU TALK TO ME
.

I grabbed my notebook from my pocket and wished at the words. They came crawling out from between the pages and plastered themselves onto the paper.