Epoch (3 page)

“Come inside,” she said. “We’ll have tea and talk on the back porch.”

Vincent followed her into the bungalow. It was a small home, with only two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a tiny little basement. Chanteuse’s adoptive mother, Miss Sloam, sat on the living room couch across from the front door, snoozing. Miss Sloam was a big woman; big boned, not fat.

Vincent had never been inside Chanteuse’s house before, and he wondered briefly if she’d been embarrassed to have him over. His mother once told him that poor people were ashamed of their poverty. Vincent dismissed the thought straight away. He couldn’t imagine Chanteuse being embarrassed about anything.

“Will you put the kettle on?” Chanteuse asked. “I need to get a fresh box of tea from the pantry in the basement.”

“Sure, no problem,” Vincent said. He filled up the kettle and plugged it in, then went in search of milk, sugar, and two cups. The milk was easy, right in the fridge where it should’ve been. The cups were in a cupboard, also an easy find.

The sugar was harder to find, and when Vincent did find it he lost interest in it immediately. He opened a cupboard and saw a bag of sugar on the first shelf, but his attention was immediately grabbed by the creature.

It was short and spindly, with almond-shaped eyes and big floppy wiener-dog ears. In fact, it looked exactly like the creature he’d seen at school.

And it was looking at him.

“Do you mind?” the thing said. “I’m trying to eat!”

Vincent stared at the creature in his former babysitter’s cupboard, unsure of what to do. He’d come to talk about a creature like this, but here one was in the flesh. Was it a demon? Was it proof of the Triumvirate’s existence? Vincent needed to know, but was too scared to ask.

“Got a staring problem, kid?” the thing said.

“Apparently, yes,” Vincent replied. “Who, and what, are you?”

“I am a creature of Magic,” the creature said, “who does not like to be disturbed. Flee before my dust of power!” And he threw a handful of sugar into Vincent’s face.

“Ow!” Vincent said, staggering back and blinking the sugar out of his eyes.

The creature dropped to the floor, dashed between Vincent’s legs and made for the back door. He almost made it when, like lightning, Chanteuse’s hand lashed out and caught him by the ear.

“Ow!” the creature cried as he was lifted into the air. “Ow, ow, ow!”

“What have I told you about coming into the house?” she asked, holding the creature at eye level.

“What’s going on in there?” Miss Sloam called from the living room.

“Just having a word with one of the wood people,” Chanteuse replied.

“Another one?” her mom said. “We need an exterminator.”

“What,” Vincent asked, “is that thing?”

“I’m not a thing!” the creature said as he struggled in Chanteuse’s grip. “I’m a magical being of power!”

“You look more like a shaved monkey,” Vincent said.

“Stop, you two,” Chanteuse said. “Ah, the kettle has boiled. Vincent, will you please make the tea and join me on the back porch?”

Chanteuse opened the back door and left before Vincent could ask anything else. Vincent took a moment to collect his thoughts and steady himself, then he prepared the tea. He had no doubt Chanteuse would fill him in when she was ready.

“Oh, thank you, Vincent,” she said when he came out. He carried a tray loaded down with the teapot, milk, sugar, and two cups. “Grimbowl, please help my friend with the door.”

“Hey!” said the creature as he held open the door for Vincent. “I see only two cups. Is someone going without?”

“Yeah, you,” Vincent said, setting the tray down on the porch table. “That’s what you get for throwing sugar in my face.”

“I’ll fetch you a cup in a moment,” Chanteuse said, taking the pot and filling the two cups. “I want you to meet my friend Vincent. Vincent,” she turned to him, “this is Grimbowl, an elf.”

“An ... elf?” Vincent asked, offering the tiny creature a wave. “Does he bite?”

“Do I bite?” the elf said, stung. “Do I bite? I look like a dog to you? I don’t bite, kid, but I’ve been known to kick!” And he did, hard and strong into Vincent’s left shin.

“Ow!” Vincent cried, clutching his leg and hopping. “You little jerk!”

“You want me to go for the other one?” Grimbowl asked.

“You want me to go for your head?” Vincent replied, rearing his left leg back.

“You two, stop,” Chanteuse said. “Let’s sit and have tea like peaceful beings.”

Vincent put his leg down.

And Grimbowl kicked it again. Vincent collapsed into a chair, howling with pain, and the elf laughed. Then, faster than Vincent would have thought possible, Grimbowl leapt off the porch and sprinted away into the bushes at the back of the yard.

“I’m sorry about that,” Chanteuse said, putting down her tea and checking Vincent’s leg. “Elves are very mischievous creatures, but Grimbowl is usually better behaved.”

“An elf,” Vincent said. “That’s a relief. I was worried he was something else.”

“Did you think he was a demon?” Chanteuse asked with a smile.

“How did you know?” Vincent said, stunned.

“I’ve met your family, Vincent,” Chanteuse said, handing him his tea. “I know the fears they must have put in your head. Everything strange or out of the ordinary must be something evil, am I right?”

“Pretty much,” Vincent said. “But how do you know it isn’t a demon? He could be deceiving you.”

“Do you believe he’s a demon?” Chanteuse asked. “Don’t think. Just answer.”

“No,” Vincent said. “What you’re telling me feels right. It’s just ... the Triumvirate warn that demons are everywhere, always trying to get us. I don’t want to believe that, but what if it’s ... ”

“Any organization that encourages you to fear,” Chanteuse told him, “isn’t worth following. Remember that, Vincent.”

Vincent smiled. This was exactly what he’d been hoping for. He told Chanteuse about the elf he’d seen at the school science fair, and she listened without interrupting.

“I didn’t know what it was,” he finished, “so I came to ask you.”

“I’m flattered you thought to come to me,” she said, and Vincent blushed. Being around her just felt good.

“Elves usually avoid places where people gather,” Chanteuse went on. “And Grimbowl never used to come inside the house until a couple of months ago. He and the others would only talk to me in the backyard, and even then only because this house backs onto a park. In fact, when I first met the elves, they would only speak to me through the bushes.”

“You know them pretty well,” Vincent said.

“I only know what they tell me, which usually isn’t much,” Chanteuse told him. “Mostly they keep to themselves.”

“You know any other weird creatures?” Vincent asked.

“Only you, Vincent,” she replied.

“You know what I mean!” Vincent cried, sloshing tea onto his pants. “Creatures like elves. Supernatural creatures like ghosts and goblins and fairies and man this tea is hot! Ow!”

“All creatures are part of the natural world, Vincent,” she said. “Elves, ghosts, pixies, and others are as much a part it as you or I. For some reason, most people cannot perceive them. I think it is because they are unwilling.”

“I can see them,” Vincent said. “At least, I can see elves.”

“Good for you,” Chanteuse said. “Your mind is open, as I’ve always said. The world needs more people like you.”

Vincent blushed again. “What about vampires?” he asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Chanteuse replied. “Vampires are make-believe.”

They drank their tea and continued to chat. Vincent asked her to tell him more about elves, and she told him what she knew.

“Elves are like the first-nations peoples,” she explained. “They live in harmony with nature. They live longer than humans do, in some cases for thousands of years.”

“Are they magical?” Vincent wanted to know.

“Yes,” Chanteuse said. “They use the energy fields that occur naturally on our planet to blend in with their surroundings, another reason so few people see them. I think if Grimbowl really hadn’t wanted to be seen, you would not have seen him.”

“Neat,” Vincent said. “What else can they do? Fly? Move objects with their minds?”

“I truly don’t know,” Chanteuse said. “We’ll ask the next time we see one.

“And now, Vincent, I must ask you to go. I have to get ready for work.”

Vincent nodded, and together they cleaned up the tea. He felt worlds better for having talked to her. A strange feeling came over him; he knew something about the world that most people didn’t. He doubted even the Holy Triumvirate had met and talked with elves.

Of course, they probably hadn’t been kicked in the shin by one, either. Vincent wasn’t sure if he’d made a friend or an enemy, but if Chanteuse liked Grimbowl then he was probably okay.

“Where are you working these days?” Vincent asked as Chanteuse put the teacups away. His parents had been more than thorough in spreading bad words about her, so it was unlikely she was still a babysitter.

“The grocery store at Dufferin and Steeles,” Chanteuse replied. “I’m a cashier.”

“You mean that Alphega Corp. Superstore?” Vincent asked.

“Yes, Vincent,” Chanteuse sighed.

Vincent couldn’t believe it. Chanteuse wasn’t one to hate, but she really had it in for big corporations like Alphega. She’d told him about them once, back when she still babysat him. Vincent had asked if they could grab dinner at the nearby Steinburger’s, and Chanteuse refused him on moral grounds.

“Steinburger’s is owned and run by Alphega Corp.,” she’d told him. “They are a very bad company, Vincent, and I will not support them.”

“What’s so bad about them?” Vincent had asked. He was still at the age where nothing tasted as good as a fried hamburger.

And so Chanteuse had told him. Told him about Alphega’s reliance on sweatshops in China to produce its goods. Told him how Alphega Superstores would put local stores out of business. Told him how badly they treated their employees. Then she told him where the meat from a Steinburger’s hamburger came from, and he threw up in the toilet.

“I guess they pollute the environment, too,” Vincent had said as he wiped his mouth. Whenever Chanteuse talked about big corporations, usually it was because they were damaging Mother Earth.

“Actually, no,” she’d said. “Their environmental record is spotless. It’s the one good thing I can say for them.”

“So they’re not all bad?”

“Not all bad,” Chanteuse had admitted, “but certainly not good.”

“I thought you were dead-set against those guys,” Vincent said.

“I am,” Chanteuse said, “but it was the only job I could find, and I need to support my mother.”

“Right,” Vincent said, making a mental note to keep his parents away from that superstore at all costs. “I just hope they don’t treat you as badly as … hey, it’s Big Tom.”

And indeed it was. Chanteuse’s house backed onto a park, and through that park went a bicycle path. Walking along that path, his head down and his pace sluggish, was Big Tom.

“He’s upset,” Chanteuse said. “His aura is dark blue.”

“I’d better check on him,” Vincent said. “May I leave through the back?”

“Certainly, Vincent,” Chanteuse said, then smiled brightly. “Thank you for stopping by. It was wonderful to see you again.”

Vincent felt himself blush again. He offered her an awkward wave, then turned and ran through the bushes. A minute later, Vincent stood on the bike path beside his friend.

“Big Tom,” he said, when his friend didn’t immediately notice him. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, hi Vincent,” Big Tom said, turning to look at him. When he did so, Vincent saw his friend had a fresh black eye.

“Woah! What happened?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Big Tom replied. “Barnaby Wilkins got me again.”

“He did?” Vincent said. “Man, usually you’re too fast for him.”

It was true. What Big Tom lacked in size and strength, he made up for in speed. Bullies who wanted a piece of him had to catch him first, and for many this simply wasn’t possible.

“One of his bodyguards held me down,” Big Tom said.

“Oh,” said Vincent, who’d had a brush himself with Barnaby Wilkins’s two minders. “Which one was it? Bruno, or Boots?”

“Bruno,” said Big Tom. “I hate him. He’s the worst one.”

Vincent could only nod in agreement. The school board wasn’t exactly crazy about any student having two bodyguards with them at all times, but Mr. Wilkins had convinced them to see things his way. Alphega Corp. provided funding for the school and food for the cafeteria, so when an Alphega executive like Francis Wilkins wanted a favor for his son, the school board really couldn’t say no.

And when a teacher saw those bodyguards holding students down for Barnaby to beat, all they could do was look the other way.

“Did Barnaby have a reason this time,” Vincent asked, “or was it just a random beating?”

“He was gloating about winning the science fair,” Big Tom said, “so I said he only won because his dad bought him all that high-tech stuff. That’s when Bruno grabbed me.”

“Are you hurt?” Vincent asked.

“He got me good in the face,” Big Tom said, pointing to his black eye. “And he slugged me in the stomach, too.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vincent said. “Why don’t you come over to my place for a while? My family won’t be back for a few hours, and I’ve got something really cool to tell you.”

“You aren’t telling him anything.”

Vincent recognized the voice instantly. He spun around and looked down, and saw Grimbowl staring up at him.