Silence - eARC (9 page)

She shook her head, still confused. “But what’s a Red Cap anyway? And why was it trying to kill me?”

He leaned back against a tree, and crossed his arms over his chest. The breeze—which was blowing from them to the puddle—ruffled his hair. “Red Caps are one of the many types of Fae creatures out in the world. Oh, right. Do you remember how I said that I was going to drop a bomb on you? Well, here it is; magic is real, kiddo. Some of it just tried to kill you.”

She stared at him. Surely she had just imagined him saying those words. “What do you mean, ‘magic’? Was that guy a delusional lunatic? Did he think he was some kind of fantasy video-game monster? Is that what you mean?”

Dylan chuckled, as if she was being particularly dense, and he was amused by it. “I mean, magic. Literal, defying the laws of nature and science, magic. Now, there’s still laws that go along with magic, but it’s not like anything you know about. For the most part. And that thing wasn’t crazy; cranky and greedy, more like. Definitely a monster, though, and not just pretending to be one.” He cocked his head to the side. “I get that this is a lot to take in, especially for a mortal. But you’ll have to trust me on this. You’re in a world of shit, Staci.”

“I’m…is this a drug trip or something?” she asked desperately. Because, of course, it couldn’t be
real.
There was no such thing as magic. And why would anything want to kill her? But…how would anyone have gotten something hallucinogenic into her way up here? Sprayed it out of the tree? A ninja dart? That
almost
was crazier than…magic.…

“It’d be a lot simpler if you were just high out of your gourd. But I’m ’fraid that everything is exactly as it seems. Magic exists, so do monsters, and all sorts of crap you haven’t heard of. Most of it isn’t very nice.” Dylan recrossed his arms, looking contemplative. “You’re a skeptic…but only kind of, I think. All right; how would you like me to prove to you that you’re not tripping, and that I’m on the level?”

“Sure?” she managed, because she was thinking,
while he’s pretending to be Harry Potter, maybe I can get to my bike and find the cops…
She’d
thought
he was an okay guy, but now…now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe
he’d
somehow—sprayed the air with something to make her hallucinate? Maybe this was some sort of special effect thing he’d rigged to scare her?

And that’s even crazier than…what he’s been saying!
Because that Red Cap thing hadn’t been a special effect, it had nearly killed her, and again, how could anyone have gotten drugs into her up on this windy Hill? Both scenarios were impossible, but the second was a lot more impossible than the first.

“Let me think. Ha! I’ve got just the thing.” He turned to the small dirt path that led to the crest of the Hill, put his fingers in his mouth, and whistled. A moment later, there was a familiar rumble; the sound of a well-maintained motorcycle. The same motorcycle that Staci had seen Dylan riding when she first saw him quickly came into view…with no one riding it. It drove up to them at a frightening speed, skidding to a halt right next to the pair in a cloud of dust. “Staci, I’d like you to meet Metalhead. Metalhead, Staci. This hunk of junk is my trusty elvensteed, as it were.”

She felt her mouth dropping open. She looked for tracks, wires, an
antenna,
even, that would have shown the thing was being driven by someone out of sight.…

“All right—” she said, feeling angry. “Who’s driving that thing?
Come out!
You think I’ve never heard of RC cars and shit?”

“Hear that, Metalhead? She thinks that you’d actually let me
drive
you. As if I had that kind of say in our relationship. Metalhead isn’t being driven by anyone but himself, Staci, he’s—”

There was a loud crash and an explosion of fireworks, followed by an ear-splitting metal guitar solo. Where the motorcycle had been, there was now a…horse? It was huge, and heavily muscled. Its skin was silvery-white, more like gunmetal than silk. Its mane was…weird, brushy and short, like a mohawk, and its tail had been braided into a kind of club. At the shoulder, chest, and thigh, there were plates of armor, each covered in spikes and intricate designs. To top it all off, there were more pyrotechnic fireworks going off behind the horse and to either side of it; the entire scene looked like the cover of a heavy metal album.

Staci blinked, and the guitar solo ended. The horse was back to looking like a motorcycle again.

“—a huge show-off. Sorry about that; Metalhead likes to ham it up for pretty girls when he gets the chance.” Dylan casually strode up to the motorcycle, patting his hand on the gas tank. “Fireworks this time? Really?” He turned his attention back to Staci.

“What…is…that…” she gasped. “And…why…how…”

“Like I said, elvensteed. Where I’m from, they only look like horses; any kind of horse, really. But up here, they can look however the hell they want. Metalhead there pretty much refuses to be anything but a chopper, nowadays; suits me just fine. If you’ve got enough gumption, you can coax one into letting you ride it, be your friend. Oh, you also have to be an elf. Kind of a snag, that.”

“An…elf.” She stared at him.

“Not of the Tolkien or cookie or Christmas variety, but, yeah, an elf.”

“If you’re an elf,” she said, her anger rising, though she was not sure why, “Then why don’t you look like Legolas? Where’s your bow and all of that shit? Huh?”

“Would you be giving Marlon Brando shit for not looking like Brad Pitt? An apple is an apple is an apple; just depends on how you look at it.” He swept back his hair with his right hand, displaying his ear. His left hand waved over it…and suddenly the ear had become pointed. “Kind of conspicuous, isn’t it? Plus, it makes it a real pain to deal with sunglasses. Or hats. And don’t get me started on bike helmets.” He waved his left hand again, and the ear went back to looking human. “Anyway that’s not the point. Magic is real, so are monsters and things that go bump in the night. And so are elves. Deal with it. The point is, someone sent that Red Cap to kill you, Staci. Whoever it is, he’s probably going to try again.”

Her insides went to ice. Some rational part of her mind held on to reality, however. “But why?” she wailed. “And why do
you
care?”

“To answer you in reverse order, I care because I don’t like seeing assholes having their way with the world. So, I’ve made it my job to see to it that they don’t, basically. I’m kind of a roving troubleshooter; jerks pop up, I knock ’em back down. As for your first question, I aim to find out why someone, some
Fae
, would want to kill you. That’s going to take a little detective work and, of course, your help.”

A million questions were racing through her mind now. Like, how had he known she was in trouble? But the one she blurted was, “You mean there are other elves? In Silence?” Because…that just made no sense at all. How would they hide?

“That’s the only way I can figure that a Red Cap got hired to take you out. No one else topside that I can figure out as having the scratch to pay for a hit like that.” He scratched his head a little. “Not to pay for the Red Cap; they like murdering, it’s what they do. Then they dip their hats in their victim’s blood to keep the red color.”

With horror, she remembered how the cap had been dripping thick, clotted…

“But covering it up afterwards—that would be the trick. That’s why elves don’t meddle with humans. It’s a lot of work to cover it up, make sure the rest of us don’t find out about it.” He tilted his head to look at her slantwise. “So, just who did you make an enemy of here? That’d be the place to start. I kind of doubt it’s your stepmom. Our kind don’t live in big cities for—well, it’s complicated, there are a lot of reasons.”

A little part of her wished it
could
be Brenda. That would make her the perfect Wicked Stepmother. “Are you sure?” she asked, wistfully. “I mean, aren’t there other…things…that’d be able to pay off one of those…things? Like a witch or something?”

“Naw, there’s not much of that around here. They run in the same circles, sure, but I wouldn’t call it likely. It’s not like you’ve been punting black cats or anything. Has anyone recently seemed to have taken a dislike to you? Any grudges, stuff like that? Anyone been giving you the evil eye? That’s a thing, too, by the way.”

“I…dunno,” she said doubtfully. “There’s been awful lawn gnomes everywhere I looked ever since I came here.”

“Hm. Might be that someone had an eye on you, since you showed up. Or the Red Cap was scoping you out for a quick fix, then got hired to take you out after he already had you picked.” He gave her a penetrating look. “Are you sure there wasn’t someone who’s been giving you a funny feeling? It’s not the bookstore dude, he’s okay. A pussy, but okay.”

Staci started to feel indignant over Dylan calling Tim that; she remembered the exchange they had had at the bookstore, and how off it had all been. Then, all at once, it came into her head. Finn. Maybe his girlfriend, but definitely Finn. “I got invited to a weekend party at the Blackthornes,” she said hesitantly, not sure what his reaction was going to be to
that.

It was disappointingly neutral. “So…getting invited to parties is unusual for you? What’s the connection to some big ugly trying to kill you?”

“Well…the party was kind of…strange. Mostly strange in a really good way, but…Sean just kind of invited me out of nowhere, and I don’t think…I mean, my dad’s a lawyer, but we don’t get invited to the parties of people who have, like, mansions.” She was trying to fumble her way to some sort of explanation. “I know the Blackthornes own the whole town and everything, but there was a lot of stuff that should have been up there, like computers and Internet and business stuff, that wasn’t. And…” she remembered that “gallery,” with all the weird weapons and the
huge
animal heads, so big as to be fantastic. But what if they had been? Fantastic, that is. “And there was stuff that didn’t seem real. Dylan, could the
Blackthornes
be more elves? The whole family looks
really
alike! And they have this art gallery full of weapons that look out of a D and D book.”

He shrugged. “It’s a good place to start, if nothing else. So, which one did you say invited you to this party? ‘S’ something?”

“Sean. He’s like, the heir or something. And he was really, really nice, but his cousin, Finn…” She shivered a little remembering the taunts and hostile looks. Could that have meant way more than she had thought? “He was mean and nasty. Sean took my side and told him off, but I could tell Finn didn’t like me.”

Dylan didn’t say anything for a long time, instead looking down at the town. After what seemed like hours, he finally turned to her and spoke. “Staci, I normally wouldn’t do this, but I have to ask you a favor. More than a favor, really. I need your help. It’s going to be dangerous, for you and for me. You’re going to need to learn fast, and stay on your toes, otherwise we’re both screwed. But right now, getting your help is my best chance to save this town, and everyone in it.” He stepped closer to her, his fists on his hips. “If you don’t want to get involved, I’ll understand. I’ll try my best to keep you safe. What do you say?”

“What?” Okay, this had just gone from weird to insane. This was like something that would happen in a movie, not like real life.…

And a giant lawn gnome just tried to murder you.

Yes—but—since when did cute, mostly strange guys just come up to her and ask her to help save the town? That was nuts! It was—it was like something Seth would come up with for one of his games!

Hello. Giant lawn gnome. Murder. Plus elves, and magic motorcycles.

Okay…but she wasn’t going to just blindly promise someone something without knowing what it was going to involve.

“Maybe,” she said cautiously. “You have to tell me what I’m getting into first. ’Cause this isn’t a game or a movie and I’m not gonna do something just ’cause it’s in the script.”

He nodded, as if he had expected her to say something like that. “No, it certainly isn’t a game. And I wouldn’t expect you to just go full-in for nothing. So, I’ll tell you something that you really ought to know about yourself…something that’ll help you. Are you ready? I sure as hell hope you are.”

“Ooookay,” she said cautiously. This just kept getting weirder, when she thought it had already gone past weird. What could he tell her about herself? He didn’t even
know
her!

His mouth was set in a little, grim, “I’m not joking about this,” sort of expression. “I think I know why you’ve piqued the interest of whatever baddie is out there.” He paused. “You’ve got some elven blood in you, girl.”

“What?”
Of all the crazy things she expected him to say, this wasn’t one.

He nodded. “Diluted as the beer that they serve in the excuse of a bar in this town, but you’ve got the blood all the same. Mortals with elven blood aren’t all that common, so when one pops up, everyone that can sense that sort of thing takes notice.”

She sat back on her heels, feeling…not exactly stunned, but coming on top of everything else, it was almost too much. Just like the moment in an anime when the schoolgirl finds out she’s really a Magical Girl, right?
And that’s when her life goes to hell…

But this wasn’t an anime. This was reality. A reality that, frankly, was turning out to be a zillion miles away from the reality that held New York, lawyers, stepmothers that stole your jewelry, and moms that drank too much.

And the first question she blurted out was absolutely stupid. “Does that mean I can do magic?” And she felt stupid as soon as it was out of her mouth, because, of course, if she
could,
then she’d have been doing it before now, right?

Dylan smiled, but not in a way that said he was laughing at her. “We’ll get to that soon enough, tiger. For now, let’s just focus on keeping your head attached to your shoulders. You help me, I’ll help you learn some of the tools of the trade. Deal?”

“…I dunno. I still don’t know what it is you want me to do,” she said, suddenly getting back part of her caution. “Dad always said to never sign a contract without reading it.”