It took a while after Scarlett left for Roger to cool off and think about the situation in the larger scheme of things. He paced the plastic tunnels of his mouse den until his feet were tired, then flopped down on the wood shavings in his hutch to consider the problem. So, Scarlett was going on a date. Big deal. Millions of kids went on dates, and everything turned out fine. She was right, he should stay the hell out of her personal life. He could deal with that, sort of.
If going on a date was what she was really doing.
What worried Roger as much as the idea that the normally thoughtful Scarlett might let a loudmouthed, hormone-driven, baggy-pants teenage “player” take advantage of her on a date was the nagging suspicion that Scarlett had not been completely honest with him when she said she was going on a date to begin with. He couldn’t put his finger (rather, foreclaw) on it, but that whole business about having a date tonight, coming out of the clear blue with no prior warning—and she hadn’t said a thing about the guy she was going out with, either!—that smelled fishy. It stank of a whole net full of fish.
He rolled over on his back on the wood shavings, looking as concerned as his mouse facial muscles would allow. Was she was up to something? If so, what? He didn’t trust her lunatic girlfriends from the field hockey team, that was for sure. They were dangerous as well as crazy. Was she going somewhere with them tonight instead? If so, why hadn’t she told him about it? What could she possibly be doing that would make her not want to take him with her? She had promised she would always take him with her, she had promised him, and now . . . it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t like her.
Roger sighed and gently rubbed his pink eyes. Scarlett was a wonderful kid: bright, caring, sensitive—a little quirky but definitely no airhead. She was brave, too, with a bit of the old spirit of adventure, like when she went to check out that Chinese restaurant and came back with that weird counterfeit dime. Like when she rescued him from that cat in that evil kid’s home. Like when she took him to see that field hockey game that was called off because of the rioting and tear gas. Like when she went to meet Max Lane and . . .
Roger’s eyes came wide open. Despite being in an alcoholic fog at the time, he now remembered that Max Lane said he was on the run because he was being stalked by Bruno Nagy—and Scarlett had promised that girl Tannenbaum or whatever, the one with the greenish blonde hair, that she would never let anyone hurt “Uncle Max.” Was that what she was doing tonight, protecting Max from Bruno—Bruno, the giant psychic murderous pyromaniac, who had already tried to kill or kidnap Scarlett at the mall? Was she even now on her way to confront him or, worse yet, attack him? It wasn’t like she was completely helpless. She was a witch, after all. Who knew what she really could do if pushed?
The mouse sat upright with a gasp. He knew in his bones that Scarlett was going somewhere dangerous right this very minute. She might be trying to spy on that Chinese restaurant again, the one where the big dogs lived, the place where Roger had been reincarnated. Was there a connection between that restaurant and Bruno Nagy? That place was definitely not kosher, if a man could be brought back to life in the alley behind it after a skydiving accident, transformed into an animal. What else was—
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. The door to Scarlett’s room opened.
She’s back! That was fast! “Scarlett, wait!” he cried. “Don’t go out yet!” He scurried out of his hutch to tell her of his suspicions.
Only . . . Scarlett wasn’t in the room with him. Scarlett’s Aunt Elaine was standing in the doorway instead, staring at Roger with her mouth open as if . . . well, just as if she had seen a talking mouse.
Roger cried out in horror, then ran back into his hutch and hid, furious with himself and frightened of the consequences. Only seconds later, the wire door in the top of cage rattled and squeaked on its hinges as it was opened. Roger then heard human fingers gently pry away the roof of his plastic hutch. He looked up, not knowing what would happen next.
Gray-haired Aunt Elaine gazed down at him with a dumbfounded expression. Here we go, Roger thought, steeling himself. Better play it safe so she’ll think she was hallucinating.
“So you are a talking mouse!” Aunt Elaine said. “I should have guessed. My niece is a lousy ventriloquist. Did Scarlett do this to you, turn you into a rodent? I swear, I had no idea she could do that. What’s your name?”
Roger swallowed. After a moment, he sniffed in her direction and wiggled his nose, pretending to be a curious, normal mouse.
“Can the act, buster!” said Elaine with a frown. “I know magic when I see it. Speak to me before I turn you outside and let the neighborhood cats deal with you.”
“Okay! All right, already!” Roger cried in panic. “I give up! I don’t know who or what turned me into a mouse, but Scarlett didn’t do it! It wasn’t her fault!”
“Why are you here in my niece’s room, then?” Elaine shot back. “If you’ve been trying any funny stuff with her, my boy, I promise that you’ll suffer endless torments such as you never—”
“No, no, no, no! I swear to God, it’s not like that! Nothing happened! I’m like her pet or something, her buddy—except that I’m worried about her, okay? She said she was going on a date tonight, but—”
“On a date?” Aunt Elaine drew back. “She wasn’t going on a date. She told me she was going out with her friends for Chinese food.”
“Augh!” Roger cried. “Not the Chinese place! That’s where I got reincarnated after my accident! Scarlett’s almost been whacked twice at that place, once by a bunch of hoodlum girls and then later by this big German shepherd! And the owner’s crazy, too! I think Scarlett’s going to try something, maybe even go after that giant that’s coming after her and me!”
Elaine’s mouth fell open. “What giant?”
“His name is Bruno Nagy! It’s a long story, but—”
“Nagy?” yelled Elaine. “Farkas Nagy?”
“No, Bruno! His name’s Bruno! I mean, that’s the only name we came up with for him when we were trying to track him down!”
“You were hunting for this giant? Who in the blessed Otherworld are you?”
“Roger, Roger LaSouris! I was a detective in Baltimore, and—”
“Stop right there!” Elaine hurried out of the room. “Wait a minute! Don’t you dare leave!”
“I’m in a cage!” yelled Roger. “Where the hell am I going to go?”
Moments later, Elaine returned. Roger left his hutch in time to see her place a laptop computer on Scarlett’s desk beside his cage, then open and turn it so he could see the screen. He ambled over to the cage bars and sat up to get a better view.
Elaine’s fingers ran over the keyboard at lightning speed. “Let’s see if he’s up to his usual tricks,” she muttered. “I should be able to get a television link, and then . . .”
A new window popped up on the laptop screen, showing an attractive woman reporter interviewing a dignified, middle-aged gentleman wearing glasses, a bow tie, and a suit. He sat in front of a wall of bookshelves. “That’s true,” said the man with a knowing air. “Most reported sightings of unidentified flying objects can be reasonably explained away, but certain ones have defied any attempts to—”
Elaine typed something, then passed her right hand in front of the laptop screen and spoke a word that sounded like Mer-thin.
The bow-tied man on the screen hesitated, glanced irritably at Elaine, then exhaled. The young woman interviewing him stopped moving, frozen in place as she waited expectantly for a reply. The setting around the gentleman then became three-dimensional, as if the laptop monitor were a window into another place, and the little window grew to fill the entire laptop screen.
“Hello, Elaine,” the man said evenly, looking out of the screen directly at Scarlett’s aunt. “I hope this is important. You know how I love being on this show.”
“You’re not really on it, you’re only pretending!” she retorted. “This is about Scarlett. I’m worried about her. I found a talking mouse in her room, and he tells me she—”
“A talking mouse?” said the man. He turned to stare at Roger with furrowed brow. “You can’t be serious! On this world?” He gestured at Roger. “Say something, there! Can you really speak?”
“Uh, yeah, I can,” said Roger nervously. What the hell is this, a whole goddamn family of wizards and witches? “I—uh, Scarlett found me some days ago outside a restaurant here in Lawndale, and—”
“May the sky fall upon me!” the man interrupted, then he turned back to Elaine. His accent was becoming less American and more British by the second. “What were you saying again, about Scarlett being in trouble?”
“I don’t know what’s happened to her!” said Elaine, whose Midwestern accent was also mutating, taking on a cultured British tone. “It could be nothing, but the mouse said she was being chased by someone named Bruno Nagy, a giant, and—”
“Farkas Nagy?” the gentleman roared, aghast. “A scion of Fenrir here, on this world, in this city? Where in the name of the Nameless is Scarlett?”
“She went out a hour ago with some friends from school!” cried Elaine. “I never once had a clue that anything was amiss in any way!”
“I said his name was Bruno, not Farkas!” shouted Roger, trying to get a word in edgewise.
The man on the laptop screen turned to the mouse again. “Describe him!” he commanded.
“Wha—uh, I haven’t seen him, but from what I’ve heard, he’s huge, maybe seven feet tall, strong as a bulldozer, likes to blow things up, not much of a ‘people person,’ if you get my—”
“Farkas,” said the man in the computer with certainty. “‘Bruno’ is probably what other people call him, a nickname. A big Eastern European man with the manners of a gangster—perfect sort of fellow to call Bruno. Wouldn’t bother him a bit, as long as he could sow destruction and get paid for it.” He glanced at Roger again. “Is that what he does here?”
“Yes, he’s an arsonist and a murderer! He killed me a year ago and—”
“There you are!” said the man. He turned to Elaine and jabbed a finger at her. “Not a moment to lose! Throw the steel-cutter in the wagon, crack the whip, and be off!”
“Without you?” said Elaine. “Not a chance! Where would I be then, you old fool?” She slammed down the screen of the laptop, ignoring a pained cry that came from within the computer, and tucked it under her arm. She started to leave, then glanced back at Roger, thought for a moment, and put down the laptop again as she walked over to Roger’s cage. “Don’t give me any grief,” she said as she reached into the cage and snatched a shrieking Roger out. “You’re coming with me, and you’ve a lot of explaining to do!”
Roger’s cries ended when he was deposited in a pocket of the button-up sweater that Elaine wore. He managed to crawl up the side of the pocket and stick his head out. “What’s going on?” he shouted. “Who are you people? Are you aliens, wizards, or just insane?”
“It’s you who should be answering my questions!” snapped Elaine, who glanced back at his cage and added, “Wait, what’s this?” She reached into the cage again and pulled out the odd dime that Scarlett had found behind the Good Time restaurant. The astonishment on her face could not be missed. “Where did you get this?” she demanded.
“Scarlett found it behind the Chinese restaurant where I appeared! Now who the hell—”
“He followed us,” said Elaine, rubbing a pale thumb over the coin. “Farkas found a doorway somehow. That’s it, then: him or us.” Ignoring a flurry of questions from the mouse in her pocket, she marched into the kitchen, opened a drawer, then took out the foot-long chef’s knife in a fine leather sheath. “Steel-Cutter® Kitchenware” was what Roger saw stamped on the sheath before Elaine tucked the knife under her arm with the laptop and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.
“We haven’t much time,” Elaine said as she descended the stairs. It was almost dusk outside, and the air was cool. The sounds of evening traffic filled the air. “I’m going to the restaurant in case she went there first. Once we get in the car, Mister Mouse, start talking and don’t stop. Tell me everything that’s happened and leave out nothing.”
“When do I get my questions answered?” whined Roger from her pocket.
“If you want Scarlett to see the sun rise tomorrow, not to mention see you alive as well, then you’ll talk until you run out of breath!” she snapped. Elaine strode across the parking lot until she reached a rusted, dented Mini-Cooper in blue. She unlocked the rear door, tossed the sheathed knife on the floor amid a pile of computer printouts and takeout-meal refuse from eight different fast-food restaurants, then put the laptop down on the backseat and popped it open. “I want Merthin to hear this, too,” she said, making sure the screen was up, then locking a seatbelt over it to keep it in place.
“Merthin?” said Roger. “What kind of name is that?”
“It’s Welsh, you little fool. You Americans, right down to the mice, think you know everything. I have half a mind to—”
“He’s the guy inside the computer?”
“The same,” she said, shutting the rear door. “Except that’s not really a computer, but that’s neither here nor there.” She took Roger out of her pocket after opening the front door, leaning inside and put him on the passenger seat, then got in and shut the door. “Start talking,” she said, starting the car without buckling in.
“Where are we—AIEEE!” he shrieked, gripping the seat with his claws as Elaine floored the Mini-Cooper in reverse. The car jolted to a stop, then took off as Elaine stared grimly straight ahead, clutching the steering wheel in white-knuckled hands.
“Be careful, damn it!” Roger yelled, hanging on for his life. “I don’t want to die yet!”
“She won’t listen,” said a sour voice from the backseat. “She never listens to anyone when she’s in a hurry. You’d best hold on tight if you value your life.”
“Merthin, please!” said Elaine, shifting gears. “All right, Mister Mouse, talk!”
As best as he was able under the circumstances, Roger recited a shortened version of the events that had transpired since he was hired by psychic detective Max Lane to hunt for an arsonist named Bruno Nagy. Merthin and Elaine asked a few questions but kept them brief.
“I can’t believe this went on right under my nose!” growled Elaine as she gripped the steering wheel, struggling through the evening rush hour. “Talking mice, giants, psychic detectives—and not a word about it to me! Me, her guardian! What’s wrong with young people these days that they can’t talk to anyone about their problems? It’s not like I haven’t suffered for her, either, oh no. I fled the island with nothing more than the clothes on my back, a baby in one arm, an ungrateful scrying-stone in the other, and the Lady’s brand, we all survived translation, and then I buckled down and made a life for us! That I did!”
”Elaine, please, no one is arguing that you—” said the laptop.
“I had everything completely under control,” Elaine interrupted. “A nice apartment, a good school for her, everything proper and mundane, the way I wanted it. Even when I lost my job and we had to move, not a hint of trouble—and now this! It’s enough to make me want to slap a bishop or a basilisk! Where did I go wrong?”
“Slap a what?” asked Roger through gritted teeth, his claws gripping the seat cushion.
“Oh, you wouldn’t understand!”
“Don’t blame yourself, my dear,” said Merthin mildly. “We knew that wherever we went, there would be a risk, but anything was better than the alternative.”
“I do blame myself!” Elaine shouted, swerving the Mini-Cooper around another vehicle. “She’s my responsibility! She’s the last of us, now that almost everything else is gone! My brother and sisters, our families, our old home, even the Lady—everyone but her and the two of us, gone!”
“Are you all wizards, friendly wizards, like in those Harry Potter books?” Roger asked in an anxious voice.
“Oh, Harry Potter!” Elaine spat. “The very nerve! These people don’t know what real magic is!”
“Now, Elaine, I happen to like those books,” said Merthin. “They’re rather clever, especially the parts where—”
“You, of all people!” Elaine cried. “How can you say that? You!”
“Elaine, they’re just books!”
“The greatest wizard of our age, reduced to reading storybooks for children and hamming it up on television!”
“It isn’t like I can do much else, my dear, and those books are not for children only, you know,” Merthin responded, stung. “Plenty of adults read them. You should see the Potter-related material on the Internet alone. Even the fan fiction is amazing. In fact, I wrote a short story myself about young Potter that has gotten rave reviews in one of the Potter forums online, and—”
“Stop it! Please stop it! Oh, what has become of us? What’s become of us all?”
“Elaine, you’re blowing this entirely out of propor—”
“What? Think of Scarlett, you old imbecile! Stop thinking just of yourself or your stupid children’s books!”
There was a sigh from the backseat. “Now I know what Nentres went through. Poor bastard.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Elaine.”
“Button your lip! There’s the . . . oh, mercy, the police are there!”
“What?” said Roger. “The police? Where are we?”
“At the restaurant, the police are at the restaurant!” said Elaine. “What’s happened? I’m going to park around the block.”
The Mini-Cooper shot ahead, then suddenly swerved to the right, then to the left, then jerked to a stop. Roger carefully let go of the seat cushion when he heard the engine shut off. Disoriented, he fought down the urge to throw up and got to his feet. “What do we do now?” he said.
“You’ll do nothing but wait here until I return!” said Elaine, opening her car door. She slammed it shut, then opened the rear door and got the chef’s knife, which she tucked up her sweater sleeve. She then slammed the rears door and walked away into the neon-lit darkness.
“I can’t believe it,” muttered Roger. “This can’t be happening to me. I’ve been turned into a mouse after crashing into a cow, a giant magical pyromaniac is going out with my girlfriend, I’m the pet of a teenage witch who hangs out with reform-school girls, and now I’m stuck in a Mini-Cooper with a talking computer while a crazy lady is running around outside with a butcher knife. Was I such a bad person in my former life? Do I really deserve this?”
“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” said Merthin. “I’ve been through worse many a time. One of my girlfriends trapped me inside a scrying-stone, a wolf-god’s army destroyed our last home, and I’ve lost almost all my powers except divination and prophecy, and not even those work that well anymore. I certainly didn’t foretell your appearance, although to be honest you aren’t all that important.”
“Hey!”
“No offense. Look on the bright side: at least you can run away when you have to. I can’t.”
“Oh, thank you, I feel so much better now.” Roger heaved a sigh and considered what the computer had said. “A wolf-god’s army, you say?”
“I’m afraid so. Bad business, that was. Unraveled the whole island, lost it completely.”
“You lived on an island?”
“We did at that. Over a thousand years, not a single problem until Fenrir’s pack showed up, damn their eyes.”
“A thousand years.”
“Over a thousand, actually. Almost fifteen hundred. I’m afraid it was a bit dull at times, though I would have preferred more of that to our present circumstances.”
Having nothing to do and nowhere to go, Roger flopped down on his stomach. “Okay, I’ll play along. Which island was this, anyway?”
“Oh, the island, the Isle of the Blest. Not a part of your universe, reality, whatever you call it, but real all the same.”
“Isle of the Blest.” Roger was silent for a moment. “Avalon?” he finally said.
“The same, yes. Gone now. Damnable shame.”
“You’re from Avalon.”
“I said that. Bit slow for a mouse, aren’t you?”
“Wait a minute. Avalon, that was where King Ar—”
“Yes, yes, he was there, too. He arose and led the fight at the end, when Fenrir’s pack came, but to no avail. Terrible tragedy. I knew him well, advised him all his life. A great man. He was Elaine’s younger brother. Half-brother, really. Such a good sort. Better than most of the rest of his family, if you get my drift. I don’t mean Elaine, of course, though she can be a trial. Keep that between ourselves, if you would.”
Roger was silent again, processing all he had heard. “And you were the king’s wizard, Merlin.”
“I prefer my original name, in Welsh, but you can call me what you like. I do hope Scarlett is in good shape. If we lose her, everything will be for nothing. Elaine was right about that.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Roger asked, getting anxious. “I mean, you’re supposed to be a powerful wizard, right?”
“Can’t do a thing, my good fellow. All her mother’s fault, though I don’t blame her too much these days.”
“Whose mother?”
“Scarlett’s, lad. Do keep up with me. She was the one who trapped me here. My own fault, really. Wasn’t paying attention. The affair with the valkyrie didn’t help, either.”
“Scarlett said that Elaine was her aunt.”
“And so she is, as fine a person as her father was.”
“Her father. Elaine’s brother.”
“What was it you did in your previous life? Hod carrier? Ditch digger? Village idiot? Nothing intellectual, I can tell. Hold on, I hear someone coming.”
Roger jumped to his feet. Indeed, scores of footsteps could be heard outside the car. He almost jumped down and hid under the seat, but he didn’t see the point of it. He wanted to see what craziness was coming next. He did not have long to wait.
All four car doors opened at the same time. Startled, Roger looked up into a dozen faces crowding in, peering down at him with surprise and delight.
“It’s Scarlett’s rat!” cried Tananda. She was wearing her full field-hockey gear, her stick and helmet in her hands. In fact, all the girls around the car wore hockey garb, blue and gold T-shirts emblazoned with the Lawndale Leopards’ team name and snarling mascot. Some girls had war stripes painted across their cheeks.
“I’m not a rat!” Roger yelled, forgetting to be discrete. “We’ve been over this before!”
“Holy crap!” whispered Mahna Mahna. “He talks!”
“Of course he talks!” said Tananda. “I told you Scarlett was a witch!”
“I didn’t think you meant a witch witch!”
The Leopards crowded in still further. Angel reached down and poked Roger in the side with a finger. “Do you know any magic tricks?” she said. “What number am I thinking of?”
“Are you Scarlett’s friends?” called a voice that Roger recognized as Elaine’s.
“Yeah!” shouted Tananda, and the assembled girls gave out a cheer that almost deafened Roger.
“After the cops chased us away and we realized Scarlett was gone,” said Angel, “we went home and got our stuff!”
“That dumpster had a secret door on the bottom!” put in Kristen. “It was full of guns and all kinds of cool stuff! All the trash on top was fake!”
“We gave most of it to my mom,” added Big Jen. “It’s in her bedroom so she’ll be sure to see it when she gets home tonight.”
“It’s party time!” yelled Woot, sparking another wild cheer.
“Kevo wants blood!” cried Taryn, waving her hockey stick in the air. “Feed him!”
“Listen to me!” Elaine shouted, calming the group. “Listen! I believe Scarlett is in danger! Enemies of our family might be holding her inside that restaurant. The police are leaving shortly. As soon as they’re gone, we’re going to have to go in and look for her! Scarlett is my niece, the last of her line, the last of the children of Avalon! Stand with us this night, and you will be heroes such as this world has only dreamed! Our foes are terrible and deadly, but your names will be enshrined in legend and glory will be yours, if you but save her and keep her family name alive! Are you with me?”
A chaos of screams and roars greeted this call. Roger clapped his paws over his ears, but it didn’t help. He heard a ringing sound in his head for minutes afterward.
As the Leopards checked their gear and prepared themselves for the final assault, Tananda sat down on the Mini-Cooper’s passenger seat next to Roger, causing him to bounce in the air for a moment. “Hey,” she said. “You going in with us?”
“I doubt I’d be much help,” he confessed. “One of the disadvantages of being a mouse. I’m not much good in a fight.”
“Yeah,” said Tan. “Sucks to be you.”
“Tell me about it.” Roger’s ears perked up. “Say, I had a question.”
“Sure, shoot.”
“I never thought to ask her before, but what is Scarlett’s last name?”
“Scarlett? Oh, Pendragon. Her last name’s Pendragon. Kinda weird, huh? It’s like a ‘pen’ with a ‘dragon’ after it. Kinda cool.”
“Pendragon,” repeated Roger. He nodded wearily. “It figures.”
“Cheer up,” said Tan. “We’ll get her out of there. I’ve been dying for a good fight.”
“I’m sure we’ll all be dying soon, but never mind. Good luck.”
“Thanks, rat. Stay safe.”
“The police have left!” called Elaine, watching the restaurant. “Are you ready?” When the girls answered in the affirmative, Elaine reached into the car, took out the now-silent laptop, and set off for the Good Time Chinese restaurant. “It’s time!” she cried. “For victory and glory!”
“For glory!” the girls cried back. They shut the car’s doors and followed.
“Valhalla!” shouted Angel, just behind Elaine. She raised her hockey stick. “To Valhalla!”
“Valhalla!” shouted the other girls. “Valhalla! Valhalla!”
Roger heard it from the car, even with the doors shut. He hid under the seat until he could hear nothing more, and all was quiet. “I’ll just stay here until they return,” he said to himself. “Better to be safe than—”
The car door abruptly opened. A huge, scarred hand reached under the seat and snatched him out one second later, then held the terrified mouse up before a pair of narrow red eyes, high above the ground.
A broad mouth below the eyes broke into a smile, revealing sharpened fangs instead of human teeth.
“Roger,” said a coarse, deep voice. “You were looking for me?”
Roger’s eyes almost fell out of his head. “Bruno?” he squeaked.
The fanged smile widened.
The car door slammed shut, and a huge figure strode away into the darkness, tiny screams coming from one of its closed hands. Moments later, all was quiet again.
Last updated 1/28/07