anyone in danger that is part of the alliance. Besides, we used to
have a thing.”
“She’s my teacher. I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just going to
ask her if she knows of any oracles and where their locations might
be.”
Marty relaxes but doesn’t look like he’s going to cooperate.
“Hold up. You guys had a thing?” I can’t help it; I sound super
impressed.
He shrugs and smiles at the clouds. “Man, she’s an incredible
woman. But the seeing thing freaked me out. I mean, I’m not a dog or
anything. I wasn’t afraid she’d see me doing something I wasn’t
supposed to do. But check this: I have a lot of friends in dangerous
jobs. Every time I’d introduce her at a party somewhere, she’d run out
crying because she’d see them die . It puts strain on a relationship.”
I give him a well-deserved hand slap and hook. “You’re kind of the
Man.”
“Hello?” Layla knocks at the air. “Murder, mermaids, mayhem? We
can talk about Marty’s sexcapades later.”
Kurt raises his hand. “I vote Not on that last bit. But any
information would be helpful. If not,” he says to Marty, “I hope
you’re a good swimmer.”
I wasn’t about to make the threat, but Kurt’s voice is steady,
borderline deadly. I’m even afraid of him a little bit. Marty twiddles
his thumbs nervously, taking one last look at the rippling water
below. Sure, it’s not exactly making him walk the plank, but after
what we’ve just seen, the water doesn’t look very appetizing.
He deflates and says, “I’m not going to tell you where she lives.
But I will tell you where she’s going to be tonight.” He rubs his
hands. I still don’t know what he is, but I hold up my hands to shield
myself in case he ends up being some kind of wizard who shoots
fireballs when he rubs his hands together. If things like that exist.
Which they probably don’t.
Probably.
Hopefully.
“If it’s another overnight trip, my dad’s going to shit bricks.”
“Actually, it’s a club.” He winks at her.
A club doesn’t seem so bad. “Where is it?”
Marty flicks the beak of his cap. Now that he knows we’re not
going to torture him for an answer, he’s all chummy again. “Let’s just
say, it’s right in the middle of everything.”
The middle of everything is at Bowery and Twelfth Street.
Between Arcade Island and a long stretch of graffiti-covered wall
is a door I’ve never noticed before. There’s a black and red star over
the metal door, which looks like it’s been hit with a hammer too many
times.
“What is it?”
“Like I said, a special club, lounge, bar. Whatever you kids are
calling them these days. We call it Betwixt. Ground rules: try not to
look people directly in the eyes, bump into anyone, spill anyone’s
drink, or make out with a girl who is someone else’s date, Tristan .”
Layla elbows me a little too hard on the side.
“So it’s just like being in the school cafeteria,” I say, and
reach for the handle. Only there isn’t a handle to reach.
“After me.” Marty bangs his fist on the metal once.
Nothing happens.
“Nothing-”
Marty puts his finger to his lips. “Shh.” He makes like he’s going
to reach for a handle that isn’t there. And then his hand goes right
through, followed by the rest of him.
“Ohm-” Layla starts and finishes with a shriek as Marty’s head
pops right back through. “Someone has to hold Layla’s hand because,
well, it’s not her fault she’s all human.”
Layla scowls at him. I reach for her hand, but she grabs Kurt’s
instead. He’s standing closer to her, I guess.
Marty looks to me. “Knock once, wait for the knock back. A
headless monkey could do it.” He disappears.
“Here goes everything.” I knock. The wait seems even longer than
when Marty did it. Or maybe it’s because I’m afraid it’s not going to
work for me. What if half of me gets stuck because I’m half human? And
if so, which parts-
Then I hear it. The knock back. Only I can’t seem to make myself
move. I feel someone’s hands push me forward at the same time I take a
step in. For a moment, I feel weightless and cold. Two heartbeats
later, the warmth rushes back. I stumble and trip down the steps. At
least I land on my back and not my face.
Marty’s talking with a guy who’s almost seven feet tall. His red
spikes graze the ceiling. He glances at me with a set of red eyes and
a nose that looks like he gets into a lot of fights. “More convenient
than a buzzer,” I go.
The red-haired giant looks away, bored.
“Tristan, that’s Ignacio.” Marty nods at the red-haired giant.
“And this is Lisbit, my future wife.” He leans against the wooden
podium toward a girl with a slender pale face. Everything about her is
pointy, from her chin to the upturned tip of her nose to the black
points she’s painted over her eyelids.
“The little merman,” she says. Her voice is deep and smooth. “It
is wonderful to meet you. Hang on.” A second knock echoes in the room.
It feels like it’s coming from everywhere all at once. She opens a
silver box in front of her and pushes the red button. I stand aside,
waiting for the tumble that never comes. Kurt takes one step in,
balancing perfectly at the top of the steps. He holds on to Layla’s
hands as she passes through. I can see her shiver with the sudden
coldness of the metal door. She gasps when she looks down the short
steps. She pulls herself up straight and they stand facing each other,
holding hands.
“How did you know not to fall down the steps?” I say,
unsuccessfully keeping the annoyance from my voice.
He shrugs. “It’s only logical not to rush right into unfamiliar
territory.”
Naturally.
Lisbit’s eyes flare as she stares at Kurt. She glances at Layla,
who lets go of Kurt’s hands and stuffs them in her back pockets. Layla
looks from Ignacio to Lisbit’s gold shorts to the lights floating all
about. They’re like the ones on the island but smaller. She reaches
out and touches one, then pulls her finger back with a jerk. “Ouch,
they’re hot.”
The corners of Lisbit’s plum-painted lips lift in a sly smile.
“Curiosity killed the human girl. Be careful you don’t go doing that
in there.”
Ignacio unlocks the door behind him. This one does have a knob. He
steps aside. I hold on to the knob, tense at the thought that my hand
might go right through.
I turn it.
I push it.
The music blares.
First thing’s the stage. Red velvet curtains are draped open to
frame the band. Hundreds of floating lights cluster above a four-girl
band. They are red and black and white versions of the Beach Boys-but
girls. In skin-tight polka-dot dresses, they ohhh and ahhh to the
swaying crowd. Their logo, “The Vampirettes,” is centered on their
bass drum, enclosed by a set of red lips with two glossy fangs.
“Are they really vampires?” I hear Layla ask behind me. Her voice
is a mixture of wonder and dread.
“What do you think?” Marty answers suggestively.
To the left are seating areas of couches and tall circular tables
with barstools made of a curling black metal. To the right there’s a
bar with hundreds of glass bottles in all heights and shapes. None of
them have labels on them. Some are full of a familiar fizzy green
liquid. A thin green girl with paper-thin wings retracted against her
shoulder blades pours a goopy red liquid and what must be champagne
into a tall, skinny flute glass and slides it to a girl about my age.