This Broken Wondrous World (7 page)

“Henri's, I'm sure,” said Claire, giving him a look.

“Ah . . .” His cheeks flushed red. “You know. So she can practice body language, as well.”

“Right,” said Claire.

“Do you like it, Vi?” I asked.

“I love it!” She did a little dance on the screen.

“That's the important thing,” I said.

“Well, I guess we're all sorted for the trip, then,” said Claire.

“Not quite,” I said. “I still want to figure out if there's a way I can get through the metal detector this time without setting off every alarm in the airport.”

“Oh, I thought we'd save on airfare,” said Claire. “Take you apart and just check you in pieces. Like luggage.”

“You're joking,” said Henri. He turned to me. “She is joking, isn't she?”

“New York, here we come!” said Vi, and she did a little cartwheel on the phone
screen.

New World

“Our
business in this world is not to succeed, but to continue to fail, in good spirits.”

—
F
ROM “
R
EFLECTIONS AND
R
EMARKS ON
H
UMAN
L
IFE,”
by Robert Louis
Stevenson

Home for the Holidays

R
UTHVEN WAS WAITING
for us at the airport baggage claim. It was kind of amazing, really, that none of the hundreds of humans that swarmed past him at JFK airport thought, “Whoa, is that guy a vampire?!” Because he absolutely looked like one. Tall and thin, with pale white skin and red eyes. His long overcoat swirled around him like a living shadow. The popular theory among the company was that Ruthven didn't actually wear clothes, just shadows. But no one had ever got up the nerve to ask him.

Ruthven bowed his head slightly. “Welcome home, Boy.”

“Thanks.” I pulled him in for a hug, which was something only my dad and I were allowed to do.

“Hm, yes,” he said as I released him. He smoothed down his shadowy coat, then turned to Claire on my left. “Always a pleasure, my dear Claire.”

“Likewise,” said Claire. “How's things on this coast?”

“Fine, thank you. I trust Kemp is taking good care of you.”

“Of course. I wouldn't stay there if he wasn't, and he knows it.”

Ruthven smiled briefly. “I'm sure he lives in dread of the day I finally convince you to come work for me.” Then he turned to
Henri on my right. I could feel Henri leaning in toward me as Ruthven gazed at him. Humans always seemed to react with an instinctive fear when Ruthven looked at them.

“And this must be the one everyone is talking about. Henri Frankenstein.”

“Yes, monsieur, that's me.” Henri gave his most charming smile and held out his hand, but Ruthven only glanced at it and didn't offer his own.

“I should warn you, Henri, that your arrival will not be met with a great deal of enthusiasm from some of our company members. And perhaps a bit . . . too
much
enthusiasm from other members.”

“Those are the ones to watch out for, mate,” Claire told him.

“Indeed,” said Ruthven. “I have talked at length to all members about the importance of keeping this visit pleasant. But for your own safety, I suggest you remain with either Claire or Boy at all times while you are in the theater.”

“I will do as you suggest,” said Henri. “And I just want to say thank you for allowing me into your home. I know this was not a decision you made easily.”

“I am curious to see how this plays out,” said Ruthven. “Do not mistake that for approval.”

“Understood, monsieur.”

“Now then,” said Ruthven, “shall we be off?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned so that his coat swirled dramatically and walked toward the exit.

“Laying it on a bit thick, isn't he?” Claire muttered to me.

“I know.” I grinned. “I've missed theater people.”

CHARON WAS WAITING
for us in the rental car. His brown, leathery skeleton face crinkled up into a smile when we climbed in the backseat.

“Boy, it's so good to see you!”

“It's good to see you, too, Charon,” I said.

“I hope you didn't get into too much trouble in Switzerland.”

“No trouble,” I said.

“Except the mermaid,” said Claire.

“Mermaid?” asked Charon.

“I tried to talk to her and she almost ate me. Reminded me of the really crazy ones they keep locked up at The Commune. Didn't you used to have a mermaid in The Show for a while? How did you even fit her on the stage? She was massive.”

Charon frowned. “Where did you meet her?”

“Lake Geneva.”

“Oh, you must have met a freshwater mermaid. Completely different species.”

“Don't tell me. Saltwater mermaids are sweet, adorable ladies with fish tails.”

“More or less.”

Ruthven slid into the front passenger seat. “Take us to the hotel first, if you please, Ferryman.”

“You bet, boss.” Charon started the car up and eased us out into traffic.

“Hey, you've gotten a lot better at driving,” I said.

“I've been practicing once a week,” he said. “It's my hobby!”

“Everyone needs one,” said Claire.

“You're still the box office manager, though, aren't you?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. But we recently took in a pair of teenage goblin
sisters and they've been helping me out. Customers love them. They think it's part of the experience, like it's only makeup. And they always get a kick out of it when one of the girls tells them something like, ‘Your eyes look delicious.' They think she's joking! Humans. So dumb.” He glanced at Henri. “No offense.”

“None taken,” said Henri. “They would not actually attack a customer, though, would they?”

“Just the one time,” said Charon.

“One time?”

“Well, they're only monster, right? But Ruthven has a strict ‘Don't eat where you sleep' policy. He put the fear into them, and let me tell you, they will never do it again on theater property.”

“What did you do to them, chief?” asked Claire.

“I prefer to keep disciplinary matters private,” Ruthven said.

“So, Ruthven,” I said. “While we've got you more or less to ourselves, Claire and I were wondering if you'd heard about Robert Jekyll.”

“That he's escaped from prison? Yes.”

“And you know he's got a vendetta against Claire.”

“Which is why you've brought her here.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And rightly so.” He turned to look at Claire, his red eyes glinting like a cat's. “I can assure you, my dear, if Robert sets one foot in the lobby, he will very much wish he hadn't.”

“Thanks,” she said.

As we neared the Queens Midtown Tunnel, and I saw Manhattan looming in front of us, I felt a surge of peace wash over me. I hadn't realized how much I missed the city. It was big, crowded, loud, and dirty. And it would always be home.

We made our way to Times Square, and I stared out the window at all the stores with their holiday decorations. The cabs
and people moved like currents through the streets. I remembered my first time out of the theater. It had been so overwhelming at first. But thrilling, too. I had met my first human that day. At a thrift store. I'd been so nervous. . . .

Back then, I could never have imagined actually living with humans, much less being friends with them. Even later, when I'd run away from home, I'd still mostly kept away from humans. I had missed out on so much. Sure, some humans were assholes. But most were pretty amazing, these fragile creatures pretending to be indestructible.

“First stop! Human sanctuary!” said Charon.

Ruthven turned in his seat to look at Henri. “I assume you'll want to drop off your things and freshen up after your long flight. That will also give Boy time to visit with his family alone.”

“Sure, okay,” said Henri.

“The room is held under your name. The theater is only one block down, on the left.” Ruthven inclined his head in the direction. “You can't miss it. Charon should be back in the box office by then, so you won't have to worry about any . . . misunderstandings. He'll call Boy up to come get you.”

Henri turned to me. “Do you mind if I keep Vi with me?”

He looked like he could use the company right now, and Vi seemed to want to spend every possible moment she could with Henri, so I figured she wouldn't mind, anyway. “Yeah, that's fine.” I patted his shoulder. “Welcome to New York.”

He climbed out of the car. Charon had already popped the trunk, so he grabbed his bag, slammed the trunk lid down, and headed toward the hotel entrance. The way he clutched Vi's phone in his free hand made me wonder if maybe it wasn't as one sided a relationship as I thought.

THE THEATER HADN'T changed a bit. A big marquee that just said
THE
SHOW
in a swirl of colors that had once been bright but over the years had faded. The same posters still hung out front in their glass cases—silhouettes of mysterious creatures on sun-bleached colored backgrounds. It looked retro, but actually it had all just been there a really long time.

The lobby was still decorated with fabrics and swirls of color that gave it a vague international carnival feeling. It still smelled the same, like humans, sweat, old wood, and some other thing I'd never been able to pinpoint.

The two goblins peering with yellow eyes from the box office window were new, though.

I waved at them. “Hi, ladies.”

They whispered to each other and giggled nervously, then waved back.

“My, aren't you the local celeb crush,” said Claire.

“Jealous?” I asked.

“You better hope not,” she said. “I'm bloody terrifying when I'm jealous.”

“I'll take that into consideration.”

“Curmthulia, dear,” said Ruthven. “Would you call down to Boy's parents and let them know he's arrived?”

One of the goblin sisters nodded and picked up the phone.

“Let's see what kind of mess you've made while I was gone,” said Charon as he climbed into the box office.

I smiled as I watched him fuss around inside, the goblin sisters scrambling to straighten everything up.

“That used to be my job, helping out Charon,” I told Claire.

“I'd hate to be crammed in that little box,” she said.

“I grew up inside a theater. I was used to small spaces.”

“Boy!” came a familiar hard voice.

I turned and there stood my mother. She looked as beautiful as ever, her black-and-white-striped hair sticking straight up, her china-doll face still fixed forever in an expression of perpetual vague surprise. She reached out her arms and pulled me in tight for a crushing hug.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Let me look.” She held me out at arm's length. “You don't eat enough.”

“I missed you, too, Mom.”

Since her facial expression couldn't change, it wasn't easy to know how she was feeling. But I could feel the tension in her hands.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She stared at me, but didn't say anything.

“Oh, she just missed her Boy,” said Claire, putting her arm around my mom. “Isn't that right, love?”

My mom jerked her head up and down in a nod.

Then my father was there. He always knew how to take up a room. Partly because he towered over everyone, even me. But it was more than that. He just had this presence. Solid. Like a mountain.

“Welcome home, Boy,” he said in his deep voice. He put his massive, stitched hand on my shoulder and smiled. “It is good to have you here.”

“It's good to be back,” I said.

“Let me take that bag,” he said to Claire. “We'll get you settled into your room.”

Claire cleared her throat and looked at me.

“Dad,” I said. “Claire and I kind of hoped we could share a room.”

He smiled. “Yes, I thought you would.”

“Uh, and not my old room.”

“It would be too small for the two of you,” he agreed.

“Um . . .” I had expected some sort of disagreement. But here we were, asking to be treated like grown-ups, and they were just . . . agreeing. “Yeah. Exactly.”