The Magic Mirror of the Mermaid Queen (20 page)

“Way to go, Talis-man,” Espresso said. “Now she feels a
lot
better.”

I resisted the impulse to kick Fortran under the table. “It’s okay,” I said. “So. What do you have?”

Fortran zipped open one of Backpack’s tiny pockets, pulled out a palm-sized magic tablet, and laid it on the table. Espresso, Mukuti, and I scooched around so we could see better.

Fortran fiddled with the tablet. It filled with numbers and symbols.

“Very cool, Fortran,” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s a magic formula. Magic Techs use them to design new magic talismans for the Folk to make. I think I’ve figured out a new use for them. You wanna hear?”

“You know we won’t dig it like you want us to,” Espresso said. “Just lay the bottom line on us.”

Fortran called up another screen, headed “The Mirror’s Travels.” On it was a list of names:

I tapped Tiffany’s name. “How can you be sure? I mean, it
could
be Bergdorf or Best, or even some random blonde Deb we don’t even know.”

“I’ve checked everything a billion times,” Fortran said, “and it always comes out Tiffany. You gotta believe me. Tech doesn’t lie.”

“Fair enough.” I looked back at the tablet. “Can that thing tell us what happened to her?”

Fortran deflated slightly. “Not as such,” he said. “But it does say that there’s a 99.98 percent chance that Bergdorf knows.”

“Which means I have to talk to Bergdorf.” I sighed. “At least I know where to find her.”

Knowing where to find Bergdorf didn’t make talking to her any easier. She avoided me like I was some kind of disease demon, making sure I never caught her alone. But I kept shadowing her, and late on the third day after Stonewall’s personality change, after the final horn, I saw her go into the library.

I waited a moment, then slipped in the door. At the checkout desk, the Librarian was asleep in her comfy chair with the library cat draped around her shoulders like a furry neck pillow. Both of them were snoring like whistles.

I looked around. Bergdorf must have gone to the hidden window seat at the back of the room.

I padded carefully through the stacks until I heard Bergdorf’s voice, soft and low, so as not to wake the Librarian. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Tiffany liked the blue striped dress with the ruffles. She said I’d look delicious.”

A second voice gave a low chortle. “Honey,
food
is delicious. You want to come as an ugly stepsister or an iced cake?”

I froze. Why was Stonewall hiding in the library with Bergdorf? Why was he talking to her like he used to talk to us? I leaned my forehead against
The Mortal’s Guide to Immortal Beings
and listened.

“I’m thinking black and red,” Stonewall went on, “with a black wig and lots of makeup. The point is to look scary, not ridiculous.”

“But Tiffany said—”

“And Tiffany is your best friend ever, isn’t she?” Stonewall murmured understandingly.

“Yes.” Bergdorf’s voice was sad.

“And always gives you good advice?”

A little pause. “Ye-es,” Bergdorf said, a little doubtfully.

“And never, never gets you into trouble or asks you to do something you don’t want to do?”

This pause was longer, ending in a soft noise that sounded a lot like crying.

I thought Stonewall would laugh, but he didn’t. “Here, take my handkerchief,” I heard him say.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I peered around the edge of the bookcase.

Bergdorf was blowing her nose into Stonewall’s white handkerchief. He was patting her shoulder. He looked almost as miserable as she did. Sympathy was one mortal custom none of us was very good at.

I delurked.

“Where’s Tiffany, Bergdorf?”

It came out louder than I’d intended. Bergdorf stared up at me like a cornered rabbit, Stonewall’s handkerchief pressed to her lips. Stonewall frowned and held up one finger. We all waited, but nothing happened.

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Answer me!”

“I don’t know?” Bergdorf wavered.

I snorted. Quietly.

“If you were made of wood, your nose would be three feet long,” I said nastily. “Tiffany didn’t even go to the girls’ room without you. She needs you to tell her how clever and brave and cool she is.”

Bergdorf’s eyes narrowed angrily. “I
don’t
know where she is, as it happens. But I wouldn’t tell you if I did, Wild Child, not even if you tortured me, which I wouldn’t put past you. It’s all your fault anyway.” Her voice started to break up again. “Ever since you made Tiffany fall off that beam, she’s been like a crazy person. Well, you know what? I hope you get eaten by ogres and Central Park withers away and all its Folk have to go live in New Jersey!”

Her voice was definitely entering the Librarian danger zone. Stonewall put his hand over her mouth. Silence. Stonewall lowered his hand. Bergdorf crossed her arms across her stomach, curled up like an armadillo, and made painful little mewing noises.

Oddly enough, I didn’t find this even remotely funny.

Stonewall gave me a strange half smile. “Is this Park diplomacy, Wild Child? A little heavy-handed, don’t you think? If I were you, I’d leave before the Librarian wakes up and makes us reshelve all the books.”

I would have liked to snap him a cool line to show how little I cared. But I couldn’t think of anything to say. So I slunk back to the front of the room and peered around a shelf to see if the coast was clear.

The library cat looked straight at me with clear amber eyes. My heart stopped. It yawned, then sank its chin back onto the sleeping Librarian’s shoulder.

As I crept out the door, I could just hear Bergdorf’s sobbing.

I hated her. I hated everybody. I especially hated me.

 

 

T
hat night at the Castle, I announced to Astris that I was going to Miss Van Loon’s Hallowe’en Revels dressed as Peg Powler.

She freaked, as Espresso would say, far out.

“Oh, no, no,
no
, pet! What can you be thinking? Peg Powler rides with the Wild Hunt. She’s mean and ugly and hungry all the time. Wouldn’t you rather be something sweet and pretty?” Her whiskers twitched thoughtfully. “A wood nymph, maybe.”

“Mean and ugly is what Hallowe’en’s about,” I said.

“We learned about it at school. When you make fun of scary things, you make them less scary.”

Astris’s whiskers trembled with distress. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Is that what they’re teaching you? I’m not sure I approve. It seems, well,
human
. It’s certainly dangerous. What if you get hit by a stray spell and get stuck that way?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like
that’s
going to happen! First of all, I’m under double protection—the Lady’s
and
the school’s. Second of all, I’m a mortal. Changing how I look doesn’t change who I am. Third of all, I’m already mean and ugly, so I might as well go with it.”

Then I ran upstairs to my room, slammed the door, crawled into bed, and drew the curtains closed around me.

Unfortunately, Folk aren’t good at taking hints. And being my fairy godmother made Astris even more hint-deaf than she was naturally. I hardly had time for one good sob before I heard the hinges creak and her claws scurrying across the stone floor. I hastily wiped my face on the pillow.

Her whiskers brushed my cheek. “You’re not ugly, pet,” Astris said in my ear. “And you’re not really mean. You’re just at an awkward age.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That makes me feel a
lot
better.”

I put all the sarcasm I could into it, but Astris is also sarcasm-deaf. “Good,” she said briskly. “How would you like to attend the Hallowe’en Revels as a Swedish troll maiden? They’re scary, but in a good way. I’ll glamour you a tail and a false nose, and Pepperkaka can lend you her apron and her felt hat.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “Glamours are against the rules,” I mumbled.

“We’ll use rope.” Astris jumped off the bed, leaving me feeling worse than ever.

 

During Basic Manners next morning, I kept my head down, answering when the Diplomat asked me something, but otherwise focusing my attention on not breaking Rules 132 (Students must not be snarky) and 386 (Students must be polite at all times). As a result, I got yelled at for breaking Rule 242 (The very difficult Students must not play with their hair—although I was actually chewing on it) and failing to cultivate a pleasant expression. Also for not paying attention to the lesson, but that was getting to be a chronic condition.

I spent most of the lesson sorting beans and rice.

The big news at lunch was that Stonewall had talked to Espresso.

She’d been on the Chinatown bus as usual, reading up on dryads, when Stonewall squeezed into the seat beside her. Which was way weird, because Stonewall never took the bus.

“It was jive, man,” Espresso said. “No ‘How are you’ or ‘Sorry I was such a jerk’ or anything like that. Just, ‘We gotta talk.’ I told him to am-scray.”

Fortran’s eyes were round black marbles. “Did he go away?”

“He just kept on pitching me all this hype about meeting everybody at the Mansion after school.”

My stomach clenched. “Everybody except me, right?”

“He said you in particular. And Airboy, which blew my mind. Anyway, I said I’d rather have tea with King Kong. He was glum, chum. Like, what did he expect?”

Since nobody had an answer to this, we took out our lunches and swapped around. Nobody wanted any of my pease porridge, but Mukuti gave me some
saag paneer
anyway. Fortran tried to cheer up Espresso by describing all the wizard things the Magic Tech was planning for the Haunted House. I poked at my food and wondered what was up with Stonewall.

Maybe he was sorry he’d been such a troll. I hoped he was sorry. I almost wished Espresso hadn’t blown him off so I could listen to him apologize and then tell him to go turn into a frog. If he apologized. Which he wouldn’t. Like I’d never apologized to Airboy. Not that he’d given me a chance.

I might as well have skipped Mortal History for all I learned about the Dead Rabbit Riots in the Bowery. The Historian reminded me, sharply, that a quest pass was a privilege, not a right, and could be revoked at any time on the recommendation of my tutors. In the end, he didn’t punish me, although he did say I was skating on thin ice.

It felt like I’d already fallen through.

When the last horn finally ended my torture, I headed downstairs, intending to go straight home.

In the front hall, Airboy appeared at my elbow. “Hi.”

I stared at him. He stared back, waiting. “Um, hi,” I said. “Listen. About the whole Elizabeth Factor thing. You’re right. You saved my butt, and I acted like a jerk. I’m sorry.”

Airboy blinked. “It’s okay,” he said. A tiny smile pulled at his mouth. “That makes this easier. Your friends know about you-know-what, right?”

I nodded, feeling better than I had for a while. “Yeah. We’re kind of stuck, though. There’s too much we don’t know.”

“I found out something that might help,” he said. “You guys going to the Mansion?”

“We could,” I said.

 

It took me a while to find Espresso and Fortran and Mukuti and Danskin, and then I had to persuade them. We hadn’t been to the Mansion since Stonewall had gone all East Side.

“It’ll be fine,” I told Danskin. “Stonewall probably won’t even be there. Besides, it’s important. Airboy’s got news about the mirror.”

Danskin rolled his eyes. “Oh, the
mirror
! Well, that’s certainly more important than my feelings, isn’t it?”

I didn’t want to be mad at Danskin. I really didn’t want him to be mad at me. I counted to ten and said, “No, it’s not. You don’t have to come. I understand. Really.”

After that, he said he might as well tag along. We walked the few blocks to the Mansion together, squeezed into our old booth, and ordered a pitcher of milk.

It was weird being there without Stonewall.

Danskin wormed a finger down inside his bandage and scratched. Someone, I noticed, had drawn feathers on it, like a wing. “So where’s Airboy?” he asked.

“He just swam in,” said Espresso, sounding grim. “With a couple of sharks. Did you know about this, Neef?”

I turned around and saw Airboy standing in the door. Behind him, like some kind of dishonor guard, were Stonewall and Bergdorf.

My first impulse was to jump up and run away. Of all the beings in New York Between I didn’t want to see right now, Stonewall and Bergdorf were right up there with the Mermaid Queen.