The Night Sheriff, page 28
“I still have problems?”
She closes her eyes and feebly waves her hands about. “I see that you are having problems with … romance.”
Bone Cat murmurs sleepily from Celeste’s lap. “I didn’t say nothin’. It’s pretty obvious.”
“Indeed it is,” Celeste confirms. While she is speaking, she absent-mindedly weaves a small geegaw from thread. “Do you love her?”
I consider this. “I think I do. I wouldn’t have changed her if I did not.”
I glance over. Vandy and Lunette are still, examining something on the ground before them.
“You truly expected her to kill you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But you changed her anyway.”
“She would have died if I had not.”
“Then I consider her behavior most ungrateful.”
I shook my head. “I don’t. You have no idea what it felt like, what I did to her. I have earned this.”
“I can fix it.”
“What?”
She reaches inside her sleeve and draws out a small vial, corked with red wax. Inside was a deep green liquid. “Love potions were the first thing I learned, mon ami. Now this will not make her your slave, who wants that? But she will—”
I slap the vial from her hand, and I stand before her quivering in rage. “Don’t you dare! Her mind is her own!” I say this so intensely that I am not surprised to hear it echo.
Then I realize that it is not natural acoustics that are doing this. I spin and see a small weave—identical to the one that Celeste had woven—stretched out between Lunette’s hands. Vandy is staring at me and her face is a study in contrasts.
I wheel back to Celeste. “You interfering old swamp witch. I believe it high time for you to begin your next incarnation—”
She looks up at me without fear. “If you must. But first, let us talk about the fate of Mortimer Zenon.”
Damn the woman. This is one of the few things that could have checked my wrath. “You know what happened to him?”
“You told me so yourself. The witch sent him in here. He is somewhere in the park.”
“But he wasn’t the Wendigo—” I stop as I realize what I’m saying.
“No, he wasn’t.” Celeste leaned forward. “He should have been far worse. But you never fought anything worse than the Wendigo. So … you never fought him. Therefore, he is still here.”
I am ashamed that it takes me almost fifteen seconds before my jaw falls open in realization. “ORSYNN?”
I give the three-note whistle and am pleased to see the expressions on everyone’s faces as Orsynn rises to the surface.
“My friend! Hello! Hello! How are you today! Why it seems like it was just yesterday I saw you last!”
“It was yesterday.”
He blinks his great stupid eyes at me, and then a grin smears itself across his lower face. “I can tell time,” he squeals.
His eyes then glance downwards. “And what’s this? What’s this?” This was Vandy, Celeste, and Lunette, who all give a small wave. “I’m sure I keep telling you that you don’t have to bring me someone to eat every time you visit, my friend.” Vandy and Lunette look startled and quickly step behind me. Celeste chuckles.
“Especially …” Here Orsynn actually looked hesitant. “Especially since you have again called me your friend …” The question hangs in the air, and I take a deep breath.
“Of course you’re my friend, Mortimer.”
He freezes. “Mortimer? Who is that?”
“That is you. You may not remember it, but your true name is Mortimer Zenon, and you are my oldest and best friend ever.”
His eyes grow round with amazement. “It is true! I can feel that this is true!” Mortimer crows and thrashes about. “I am! You have always been here, and I have always been Mortimer, and I have always been your friend!” He looks at me glassy-eyed. “I think I might pass out now.”
“Breathe in,” I said with a sigh, “and don’t pass out, because I have some people to introduce you to. They are not food. They are new friends.”
I had not thought that Mortimer’s eyes could get any rounder. I am proven wrong. “New friends? I will have more friends? Is this even possible?”
Bone Cat shook his fist. “Hey! I’m your friend, too, you jerk.”
Mortimer considered this. “Yes, but you make fun of me, and you look creepy.”
“Creepy? I’m cute, you asshole!”
Vandy stepped up. “Hello,” she said.
Mortimer goggled at her. “A girl!” He looked at me. “She is a girl.” He looks at her again. “You have very nice hair.” I roll my eyes.
Mortimer sidled towards me. “I am surprised. You were never good with women, my friend.” He sidles over towards Vandy. “He is very bad with women.”
“I know.”
“But he is the best person to have as a friend! I am Mortimer, and I would be happy to be your friend, too.”
We all agreed that this would be a fine thing, and then we all had to endure being hugged and listening to Mortimer sing the friendship song, and, to my astonishment, Vandy, Celeste, Lunette, and Bone Cat joined in, and no doubt they would have continued on until morning if I had not grudgingly come in on the final chorus.
“And this,” I say afterwards, “is Madame Celeste L’Enfant de Lune.”
Mortimer pauses. When he speaks, I can almost hear the voice I remember from so long ago. “I know you,” he says slowly. “You’re a magic person.” He squints at her. “You were shorter.”
Celeste nods. “Indeed I was. So were you.”
“Yes. Yes, I was. I …” He looks off into the distance. “I had to go away.” He shivers and then looks back at us. “You took care of my friend. Thank you, Mademoiselle.”
Celeste snorts. “It is Madame, you ignorant Yankee.”
Mortimer smiles. “I will always think of you as Mademoiselle.” This charming moment stretches out—and is broken by Mortimer rearing back and groaning. “My head hurts sooooo much!” And he submerges in a splash and a flourish of bubbles.
Vandy stares out at the lake. “And he’s the ravening monster the witch was trying to unleash?”
Celeste bites her lower lip. “That is the part that still eludes me. He should have been a thing of madness and fury.”
I nod. “And indeed he would have been, I have no doubt, except that he had escaped the witch’s direct influence, and exchanged it for this.” I gesture, and they all see that we’re next to the Happiness Machine.
“As near as I can figure, Polina must have brought him here right after the machine was first activated. It was why she couldn’t enter the park. After wandering around for a bit on his own, apparently Mr. Mortimer fell into the lake.
“He lay there for who knows how long, gestating into what he has become, marinating the whole time in the point-blank emanations of the Happiness Machine.”
As we walked back to the entrance, I ask the obvious question. “Can you break Mr. Mortimer’s curse?”
Celeste and Lunette look at each other and have a silent conversation consisting of twitches, shrugs, and grimaces until they both sigh deeply in unison. “It will not be easy,” Lunette says.
“It will not be quick,” Celeste adds. “Getting rid of that excess mass alone will take decades.”
“But it can be done?”
Again they looked at each other. “We shall see.”
As we stroll along the roads towards the entrance, I ask Vandy to take over the operation of Celeste’s chair, and beckon Lunette to fall back with me. I have another curse I need to deal with.
It is a sudden ætheric sound wave booming out across the park that awakens me the next evening. After a pause, I can hear the level of shouts and laughter from the crowd tick up a notch.
The Happiness Machine is back up and running. I imagine Cormangwöld blowing out a final snort of flame, and then settling back down upon her nest, and I feel a wave of relief.
When Bone Cat and I step out onto the promenade, it is to discover teams of technicians removing cameras. Upon questioning them, I discover that Mr. Shulman has returned, and my faith in him had been justified, as this had been his first order.
Mr. Leonard was positively beaming as Vandy and I enter his office, and he insists on showing us a new engagement ring. It seems that Mr. Shulman felt that the new CEO of the Zenon Corporation should show that he could publicly commit to things.
Evidently he heard us laughing and congratulating Mr. Leonard. He pops his head out of his office with a frown on his face, but when he sees who we are, he smiles, holds up a finger, and retreats. A moment later, several men and women, whom I recognized as members of the Zenon board, file out, trying very hard not to stare at me as they pass.
I introduce him to Vandy as we sit down but save any other information about her until I bring him up to speed on everything that has happened in the last few days. After the first minute, he starts taking copious notes, many of which I am sure will wind up in his file cabinets. When I was done, almost two hours have passed.
He sits back and puts his fingers together. “So. You’re leaving?”
“I am. I hope to come back, but it will be without constraint.”
He nods slowly. “You know,” he said idly, “I wasn’t in Tokyo for very long.” He looks at me. “But there were … things I was informed about regarding our operation there that made me wish you were there as well.”
I say nothing. He examines his fingernails. “Over the years, I’ve also received reports—nothing official, of course—about … incidents at some of the other parks.” He looks me in the eye. “I don’t suppose, once you’re footloose and fancy-free, that you’d be interested in staying on the Zenon payroll?”
I sit back and consider this. Even if I manage to acquire my freedom, it’s a big world out there, about which I know shockingly little. There could definitely be benefits to having one of the world’s largest corporations watching my back. I agree.
Mr. Shulman recalls one of the men who had been displaced when we came in, and we then spent a rather tedious hour going over contracts. Vandy, who is graciously reading through documents on my behalf, (because, as she tartly informs me, a lawyer does not have to like her client) clears her throat several times, and makes corrections that, as far as I can tell, involve little more than the shifting about of commas, but they seem to vex the man quite a bit.
Mr. Shulman, on the other hand, finds it all very amusing, and he and Vandy hit it off immediately. After everything was signed and witnessed, he formally offered Vandy my old job, which she gleefully accepted.
He then spent yet another hour making phone calls, while I showed Vandy my—now her—office, and in a surprisingly short time, I found myself walking down Main Street with Mr. Shulman, possibly for the last time.
Upon my head is the black cowboy hat that Mr. Mortimer had purchased for me all those years ago, and I saw many people giving me admiring glances as we walked by. My old hat now hung on the hook in my office. Vandy could do with it as she wished.
“So,” Mr. Shulman asked, “where will you go? I mean if this thing in China works out and you can go anywhere? Straight to Tokyo?”
“Prague,” I said without hesitation. “I have dreamed of it frequently. It was ruled by a very nice vampyre queen who I have lost touch with. I would like to make sure she is all right.” I sighed. “I’m sure it will be much changed, but that applies to everything, doesn’t it?”
I’d had a long conversation with the L’Enfants, and Lunette had offered to take Vandy under her wing. Between her and Miss Dawkson, Vandy would have an easy time integrating into the local supernatural community. She would be in good hands, and with Lunette advocating on my behalf, eventually I might be able to return, and then we would see what we would see.
Mr. Shulman cleared his throat. “There’ll be a coffin waiting for you at the airport. I got one with padded velvet on the inside. Solid oak. Built in cell phone and Wi-Fi.”
I looked at him askance. He waved a hand. “Rich schmucks will buy anything. You’ll like it. If you need anything, money, whatever, you just get in touch, okay? Our people should be there every step of the way to make sure things go smoothly. And, oh. Before you go …” He then reached into a pocket and fished out a small box. “Here. You always said you wanted one.”
I open the box and find an official Zenon Corporation retirement watch.
I startle him by enveloping him in a great hug. “Thank you, Ira. You are, and always have been, a good friend.”
Mr. Shulman freezes within my embrace, then hesitantly gives me several small pats on the back. “Shalom, Sheriff.”
I look about. “You must excuse me for a moment. I have a bit of business I must see to.”
Mr. Shulman checked his own watch. “Don’t take too long.”
I walk for a few minutes until I was alone, and then clear my throat. “You’re upset. I can tell.”
Bone Cat pops into existence before me and folds his arms. “Gee, I wonder why?” He kicks a pebble that arcs up and bounces off of my nose. “Maybe it’s because I’m gonna be dead in a few minutes.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? You’re not going to die. You heard Celeste. You are a manifestation of the land. You’ll live as long as the park does, and possibly much longer.”
“Oh, sure, in some airy-fairy disembodied ghost mode where I don’t even know I exist. You know I don’t manifest unless your fat stupid feet are on the ground.”
“Like now?”
“Yeah, like …” It was then that Bone Cat notices that I am in fact hovering at least six inches above the pavement. His lower jaw drops to the ground and shatters. It instantly reforms back in place, but it is still quite gratifying. “What … How?”
I pull aside my coat and reveal the amulet Lunette had waiting for me when I awoke, filled with earth from beneath the statue of Mr. Bartholomew. I don’t think it’s any more magical than soil from any other part of the park, but I thought it a nice touch.
“Normally, I don’t think this would actually work, but Ms. Lunette has assured me that she and her grandmother have called in quite a few favors from the spiritual plane to ensure its effectiveness.” I rolled it between my fingers. “As I understand it, it won’t even drop off when I turn completely insubstantial.” Another miracle of the modern age. “So as long as I maintain contact with it, you will be able to be as annoying as ever.”
Bone Cat stares at me. “Boss … I … I don’t know what to say.”
“I doubt that will last.” Before I know it, he has leapt into my arms and for several minutes, we engage in a prolonged bout of back patting. This lasts until we come back to the entrance, and as Mr. Shulman had promised, there is a Zenonland bus quietly idling just inside. To my surprise, Vandy is standing beside Mr. Shulman. She makes a point of not looking at me.
Bone Cat bounces onto Vandy’s shoulder and gives me an evil grin. “Don’t worry, boss,” he sings out, “I’ll always let’cha know what color underwear she’s got on.”
In one smooth movement, Vandy scoops him off her shoulder and stomps him into fragments. Yes, I think she’ll be just fine.
I bow in farewell, and turn to go, and Vandy astonishes me by putting a hand upon my arm. “Let me know when you get where you’re going,” she says, her eyes not meeting mine. “Just so I know you got there okay.” She finally looks at me. “Okay?”
I smile back. “Okay. Good luck, Sheriff.”
I step up to the door and it folds open. The driver peers down at me and checks a small clipboard. “Are you …?” He stares at the name and then holds it up before me. “… him?”
“I am,” I said.
“You got any baggage?”
I turn and look back at the place that has been my kingdom for the last sixty years. I know every inch of it and know that it is time to move on. I glance at Vandy, Mr. Shulman, and the newly reconstituted Bone Cat, who gives me a final thumbs-up. I am leaving the place in good hands.
Oh, I would be back, but when I came, it would be under my own terms, as my own person, beholden to none, and free to do as I chose. I take a deep breath. It has been quite a while since I could say that.
I turn back to the driver and smile, showing him my beautiful teeth as I step aboard. “None whatsoever.”
About the Author
Phil Foglio is known primarily as a cartoonist, and is the first to admit that drawing pictures is way easier than poring through the thesaurus looking for the correct word. He has been active in the science-fiction and gaming community since 1973 and has never had a real job. He lives in Seattle with his wife, Kaja, their two children, and a variety of animals. As far as the cartooning thing goes, it has resulted in him winning a number of Hugos and getting to see a bit of the world. To check out Girl Genius, the comic that he and Kaja have been working on for 20-some-odd years now, please go to www.girlgeniusonline.com.
Other Titles From The Prince of Cats Literary Productions
MacGyver:
Meltdown
Eric Kelley & Lee Zlotoff
Or Even Eagle Flew
Harry Turtledove
Seventh Age:
Dawn
Rick Heinz
PHIL FOGLIO, The Night Sheriff
