Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free (11 page)

The pins and needles of waking limbs began in every muscle at once. Oh man, recovering was going to suck worse than a Scrappy Doo movie.

“Mmffmumff,” I said as Heather turned away, a bit of drool running down my cheek. Heather faded into the shadows.

Somehow, I doubted she would heed my eloquent final words.

It took several minutes of painful writhing for the effects of the potion to wear off, as I made hopeless attempts to find just the right position where my muscles could wake up with minimal pain. When I could at last move without wincing, I climbed to my feet and stumbled into the safety of the house and its protective wards.

Pete poked his head out of the kitchen, lowering a half-eaten chicken drumstick from his mouth. “Hi Finn!” he said, then gave a guilty look down at the drumstick. Our family had been raised vegetarians, as most necromancer families were—one of the side effects of being able to sense the residual spiritual energy in anything that once had a nervous system. But Pete's new wolf nature was less discerning.

“Hey Petey, how're you doing?”

Pete glanced back into the kitchen a second, then crossed through the dining room to join me in the entry hall as the kitchen door swung back and forth behind him. “I—hey, are you okay? You don't look so good.”

“I'm fine, Petey, thanks. What's up?”

Pete blushed. “Oh. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I sighed. All I wanted to do was clean up, drink something with lots of caffeine and sugar, and meet Dawn for our date.

“Sure. What's up?”

Pete looked down and shifted from foot to foot in that golly gawrsh way he had. “I just—I was thinking about asking Vee to marry me.”

“Holy—wow! That's awesome, dude. And quick. Does this have something to do with what happened this morning?”

“A little, maybe,” Pete said. “But I was thinking about it even before that.”

“Okay. But are you, well, do you know if she's ready for that?” I asked not just because they'd only been together for three months, but because Vee had spent a good part of her adult life in the Hole, a special facility where noncriminal arcana and feybloods were “cared for” if they were unable to care for themselves, or might be a danger.

“I think she's ready. She keeps saying she spent too much time waiting for her life to start, she doesn't want to wait no more.”

They'd been together three months and were ready to marry. I'd known Dawn the same amount of time, at least from my perspective. So why couldn't I even say “I love you”?

The Kin Finder had confirmed Dawn to be my soul mate, the same as it had confirmed the connection between Pete and Vee. But what did that mean? I had been eager for some clients in my dating service, not only to have some alternative to being a necromancer, but also so I could better see just how the Kin Finder worked. The fact that it had found Sal's soul mate close by, and near his own stomping grounds, made me wonder if it didn't so much find your one and only soul mate as just the best match closest by. And how much of the love seeker's expectation played into that?

When I'd used the artifact, it had been after I'd lost my memories of Dawn, but I had been
told
that I loved her. Pete already knew he loved Vee when he used it. And Sal, well, why wouldn't some part of him equate love with the comfort and familiarity of his home territory?

But Pete and Vee truly were a perfect match. And now Pete was ready to propose. This was exactly the kind of thing that made me worried I'd lost more than just memories of Dawn, that I'd lost some important part of me, maybe part of what had made her love me, maybe even my fundamental ability to love her back, to truly love in the way Dawn deserved.

I knew that I had fun with Dawn, and loved to spend time with her. And she certainly knew me, perhaps even better than I knew myself. But—

Pete slumped. “You think it's a bad idea,” he said, sadly.

“What? Oh, no, sorry Pete. I was having a pity party in my head. Look, I—marriage is a pretty big deal, you know. Are you sure
you're
ready for that?”

Pete nodded. “Our counselor says we're good for each other, even though, you know, I sometimes want to eat her.” He blushed again.

“Counselor?”

“Brightblood relationship counselor. We've been seeing one for a few weeks now.”

“Oh! You didn't say anything.”

Pete shrunk in on himself, and said in a soft voice, “Everybody is already scared of me. I don't like to remind you of what I am now.”

“Petey, we're not—” I stopped. I wanted to say we weren't afraid of him, or at least that I wasn't afraid of him. But that wasn't true. I realized then how far from him I was standing, that when he'd entered the entry hall I'd actually taken a step back to maintain that space.

“Nobody lets me cook anymore,” Pete said. “Like I'm going to spit in the food or something. And you haven't come to my house to play games with me and Vee, or watch movies, even though I keep asking you.”

“Oh man, Petey. Come here.” I pulled him into a tight hug, and slapped him on the back as we stepped apart. “I'm sorry. How about tomorrow morning you make us breakfast, and we can watch Saturday-morning cartoons?”

“They don't have Saturday-morning cartoons anymore,” Pete said.

“I know. But I'll bet Mattie can help us find some on her computer, or something we can watch, some of the good ones.
Bugs Bunny. Thundarr the Barbarian. Superfriends
. Whatever you want.”

Pete's mouth squished to the side as he considered it.

“Tomorrow's Sunday,” Pete said at last.

“Fine. We'll make up our own tradition. Sundurday Morning Cartoons.”

Pete's last reservations collapsed beneath the wave of a huge smile sweeping across his face. “That sounds fun.”

“Okay. It's a plan. And as for Vee, I agree with your counselor. You two make a great pair. If you think you're both ready, I say go for it.” And if they were married, maybe it would be harder for anyone to split them up. Of course, it might also make it easier for any Demesne to reject them both.

“Thanks, Brother,” Pete said. He gave me another hug, then returned to the kitchen, gnawing enthusiastically on the drumstick as he went. I was tempted to check for chicken stains on my back, but I was going to clean up anyway, so it didn't really matter.

I checked in on Father, who was happily distracted assembling knickknacks and working his way through a bag of saltwater taffies from Elevated. Mattie had left a note on her desk asking if I'd pick her up after Arcana School that evening.

I checked the time. Nearly one. Just over an hour until I was supposed to meet Dawn for our date. Our first real date, at that. We'd hung out plenty, usually around her shows or at each other's jobs, or at hurried meals at home; but all the catch-up since my return and our crazy schedules had made it difficult to do an actual planned activity together.

I hurried upstairs to get ready. In lieu of a shower, I used one of the magical stones we used to sanitize bodies for the major cleaning work, and a damp washcloth to refresh.

Dawn stood waiting for me when I stepped out of the bathroom in my threadbare blue bathrobe, her hair now a vibrant purple cloud of finger twists.

“You look amazing,” I said.

“Aw, you're going to make me blush. So, how'd things go with Sal the sasquatch? Did you find his true love?”

“I think so,” I replied. “But there were some … complications. I'll figure it out, though.”

“I want to hear all about it. You ready for this friggin' classy date you promised me?”

“Almost,” I said. “But you're not. You're going to want to get dressed up, I think.”

*   *   *

The Port Gamble renaissance fair was not the largest in the area, but it lacked nothing in enthusiasm, and had at least a sampling of anything you might expect from such a fair put on by The Society for Creative Anachronism. I noted with particular interest a pay-to-play arena where groups of visitors beat each other with padded weapons, each group competing to win a stuffed dragon that looked suspiciously like someone had stitched wings onto an Eeyore knockoff.

Plenty of people wore costumes that spanned several centuries of medieval and renaissance history—sometimes all at once. I hadn't gone for accuracy myself, wearing my old
Dragon's Lair
T-shirt, plus a gray plastic conical helmet and white canvas backpack.

Dawn had outdone me. She wore a blue long-sleeved shirt, a brown leather vest, and brown leather pants. A mandolin lay slung across her back, she had clipped a small white feather on either side of her lavender hair, and a plastic sword swung at her side.

Around us, white canvas tents and booths offered everything from swords and leather armor to elephant ears and potion bottles full of dragon ale. It was pretty easy to tell the area residents come to shop or entertain their children versus the folks who would happily live in a renaissance fair if given the choice.

Less easy was telling the difference between mundies, arcana, and feybloods.

Dawn and I stopped beside a fairy sitting in the shade of a tree. Not a real fairy, at least not that I could detect, but a woman wearing costume wings, with glitter paint on her face and flowers in her hair. She sat on a blanket where she displayed handmade bracelets, and languidly wove a new one.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Do you know where the musical instruments are being sold?”

She made a chirping kind of sound, and pointed past the roped-off area, where a man in fencing gear and a white sash demonstrated basic moves to a young boy. She chirped again, and held out her hand, offering something. I extended my own palm, and she dumped several Skittles onto it.

“Oh! Uh, thanks,” I said. She gave a regal nod, and I led Dawn in the direction indicated.

Dawn took my free hand. “You don't have to buy me an instrument,” she said. “I doubt there'll be anything I need here.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“I'm just saying, I think a renaissance fair is an inspired choice for a date, but—”

“You sure?” I asked, suddenly uncertain. “You're not disappointed? I was a little worried it wasn't very, I don't know, date-ish? I mean, for my one real date as a teenager, my mother drove us to the movies. So I don't have a lot of experience. And adult dates involve things like dinners and walks on the beach as far as I can tell, but we already eat and walk together all the time, so—”

“Relax!” Dawn said, and laughed. “I love this. And just so you know, I've been on plenty of dates, and basically what I've learned is a good date is just about having chances for conversation and a bit of fun. With plenty of escape routes in case it sucks, of course. So, you know, if I'm not enjoying myself, you'll know by the fact that I distractify you with something shiny then disappear all ninja-like, Poof!”

I breathed a little easier, and said, “The only thing distracting me is your smile.”

“Aw, how sweet. And cheesy. Maybe I'll start calling you my little cheesecake. But seriously, about the instruments, you do know I was joking about being a material girl living in a material world? You don't have to go trying to buy my heart with gifts.”

“I know. I thought I already won your heart anyway,” I said.

“Well, you certainly had a running start, before you gave up your memories of me.”

I sighed. “I didn't give them up, I was tricked out of them.”

“Still, ‘I dwell in darkness without you,' and it went away?!”

“Egads, woman! Do I need to fight a dragon as penance?”

“Wouldn't hurt,” Dawn replied. She took my hand. “So if you're not going to buy me an instrument, why go to the instrument booth?”

“You'll see,” I said. “Just trust me.”

“Okay, fine,” Dawn said, and her expression became serious. “Actually … I've been debating whether to say anything, but I might need some major boyfriend support tonight, just to warn you. I've been thinking about making tonight my last gig for a bit.”

I sighed. “I kind of thought you might, the way you've been talking, but why?”

Dawn shrugged. “I need to get serious about making money for a while. I've still got a mountain of debt from when Dad was sick, and, well, it's been years and I'm still playing the same places for the same faces. Not that I don't appreciate all the local love, I just think, short term—” She shrugged.

“But you love your music. And you're really good,” I said. “I'd hate to see you give it up.”

“Great!” she said. “Don't suppose one of your wizard friends runs Capitol Records and owes you a favor?”

“Uh, no,” I replied.

“Didn't think so. And I didn't mean to be a bummer on our date. It might even be a good thing. The ladies at the massage school are still trying to get me to do their program. And—Blah, enough about me. Tell me about your morning.”

I groaned, and explained how I'd rapidly gone from one problem—finding Sal's soul mate—to also finding a way to protect Pete and Vee from being declared rogue feybloods, and helping Silene's feybloods to clear their name.

“Not to sound uncaring, but you know these aren't all your problems to solve, right?” Dawn asked.

*See?*

“I
know,
” I said a little more sharply than I'd intended. “I'm just doing what I can. And in a way it's all tied together, anyway.”

“How's that?”

“Well, I have to help the feybloods free Challa so I can keep my promise to Sal. And doing a good deed might improve the Gramaraye reputation a bit, which can't hurt.”

*And the Silver Court is the best choice for Pete and Vee if they must needs choose a Demesne—*

We've been over that. Drop it.