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Billy sucked anxiously on his loose tooth. Gently, carefully, he squished the fat toad just a little out of the foothold on the jungle gym. Yellow plastic radiated heat.
“You're doing such a good job,” said Billy. The toad kicked one long leg. “Just a bit more, we're almost done…”
After an age of pushing on its left side, then right, Billy inched the toad free. He sagged in relief. The toad was so huge, he had to hold it in both hands. He wished he could show it to someone. Curving his spine, he let gravity roll him onto his back like a pill bug.
“We did it, little guy!” Billy placed the toad on his stomach. “You're free to go.”
They stared at each other. The toad's throat quietly grew and shrank. Its eyes reflected like a cat's.
Billy didn't know toads could do that. “It's okay, you can hang out if you want.” He closed his eyes and laid his head on the prickly wood chips. His back hurt after hunching over for so long.
It's a tough job, being a superhero. Billy smiled secretly to himself, then sighed. Being a superhero was actually really, really tough. The Wizard was gonna be mad that he hadn't found whoever was poking around at the Rock of Eternity, yet. Billy had been sleeping during the day and patrolling at night to try and catch them. The closest he came was a color in the corner of the eye, or a flavor in the breeze, or a song in his ear. Nothing he did could get him closer to whoever was trying to get at the Rock.
If it weren't for getting to save a baby, he'd say all he'd gotten out of it was being tired all the time.
The night before, a little figure crawled out of a second story window. It turned out not to be a kid, but to be stealing one. Long, spidery fingers clutched the baby. Pointed ears stuck out sideways. Even though she was a girl, she wasn't wearing a shirt. Her brown skin hadn't looked human; shiny and hard like the kind of leather couch that squealed when you scooted on it, wrinkles carved deep despite not even being three feet tall. Gemstone eyes—literal cut, sharp-edged gemstone—flashed blue at the sight of Captain Marvel, and she vanished, baby abandoned mid-air, at the same moment that a screaming woman appeared at the window.
Marvel cradled the baby before they could fall even a foot; then he caught the mom who had lunged out the window. He liked to think his own mom would have jumped out of a window for him, too.
He placed them safely inside, but before he could search for the kidnapper, a breeze curled like fingers in his hair, drawing his gaze to the mother.
“You've done my own person a kindness, little Champion,” she said. “Join me in my home, that I may repay my debt.”
“Oh, uh, sure.” Billy blinked muzzily. “I can't stay long, though.”
She wrapped long fingers around his hand. “That is sad news. Children have a wildness in them of bygone days. Their eyes are not yet weakened of the walking world.”
Billy craned his neck to see the baby in her arms. Its eyes gleamed like a cat's. It croaked.
“When must you return, little Champion?” She guided him up a spiraling flight of stairs. Lichen feathered the walls in the shape of distant trees. He hadn't remembered the house having a third floor.
“I…” Billy closed his eyes, trying to focus. He trusted the warm hand to guide him. Love told the story of the air they breathed. “The moon. There's a full moon tonight. I need to be there.”
She laughed. “On the moon?”
Billy wished he knew the words to sing along. “No, silly! Someone is trespassing on Eternity. Its not theirs to take.”
“Silly may-be, Seelie certainly, lest you ask the courts; Seelie nor Unseelie, my own is solitary of seasons. Unseemly to sneak, it is a rare disgrace to be so silly, yet is the Rock not of All?”
None of that made sense to Billy except the last part.
“Everybody's part of Eternity, but Eternity isn't for everybody.” He blinked at the top step. Head swimming, he crossed the threshold.
“Be welcome and come well, until you go, little Champion,” she said, and they stood upon a lily pad. Ripples undulated the clouds. Stars whispered darkness in murky depths. Riotous colors marched in succession, dazzling umbra foreshadowing twilight.
Warm fur nestled Billy as she embraced him in the baby blanket. Calm and safe, he rested his head on her shoulder. A smile split her face wide. Her eyes reflected like a cat's.
“You're really pretty,” said Billy.
“Aposematism and glamour, kind one.” She trailed sharp nails over his scalp. “Tell me, little Champion, how old are you?”
“I'm seven.”
“Have you yet learned of the snake that eats its own tail?”
Billy thought of a kitten that chased its tail, about to learn the danger of its teeth. “That sounds like it would hurt.”
Her throat bulged with laughter. Clouds danced in her song. “Such is the pain of perpetuity! A mortal drinking of myth as yourself will know it in time, but fear is of the unknown, and who fears the only home they have ever known?”
Billy thought that kids who preferred the streets to their moms and dads would disagree, but he also thought he might have missed the point.
“That which consumes itself that it may live is eternal,” she said. “But if the snake eats faster than it grows, what then is it?”
Billy hummed in thought. It wasn't as pretty as freshwater dreams, but she harmonized with his musing anyway, throat vibrating against his forehead. He smiled. “Imbalance.” Peace radiated like sunlight from his belly. “That's why I protect Eternity.”
“Children are meant to play.” She sighed. “Your poor, stolen skin, the seams all torn for your golden heart, like cracking mollusks for pearls. Would you dream me an acorn, little oyster?”
“What?”
“An acorn. This is no favor; it's an ingredient to help you cure your imbalance.”
Billy dreamed of his parents dying, sometimes. Of dust and lightning. It wasn't real, because he hadn't been there. He had been with Mary in the bazaar when the ground shook, and they never saw mommy and daddy again. Or maybe the ground didn't shake. Maybe that was the dream.
When nightmares came, he thought of soft things, of loving hugs.
Scooping his hand like a paw, Billy fished up a cloud, and dusted off an acorn the size of a golf ball. He offered it with both hands. “Do you like it?”
“It's beautiful.” She traced a fingernail between the shiny brown nut and the scaled little hat on top, then flipped it open like a locket. Tapping the bottom, she shook the inner kernel onto her palm.
“Eat.” She pressed the nut to his lips. “It is of your own self, and will alter nothing of your being, but will sustain your mortal body a fortnight.”
Billy obeyed. It tasted like static electricity. He smacked his mouth on the sparkly sensation. “Why?”
“Under the hills where the Good People play, you shan't eat the treats for you they will lay,” she sang.
“Oh.” He thought this over. “Is that because they're silly?”
Her chuckle flourished in the star-laden blush of vanishing daylight. “That may be, little Champion. Now, open wide.”
Confused, as he had already eaten the acorn, Billy opened his mouth.
As one toes cold water, she dipped her long fingers into his chest. He gasped, but it didn't hurt. Strings of gold strung like spit between her fingers and his heart. Slowly, humming smells of old, wet wood all the while, she pooled the gleaming into the empty acorn and snapped it shut.
“Your teeth aren't sharp yet, little Champion. This honey is of yourself; pure of heart, gold of intention.” She draped it around his neck like jewelry. “Use it well.”
Billy cupped his hands over his heart and nuzzled close to her. “I will. I promise.”
“Take care; promises are like wishes.” She rocked him like a baby. “They are the oldest magic, and are more powerful than you think.”
Billy yawned.
Sharp nails combed his hair. “Rest your head, little one.”
“But if I fall asleep, I'll wake up,” Billy whispered, eyes drooping.
“Do you not have a moon to attend? Close your eyes, little Champion. All will be well.”
Waking came in the shape of moonlight on his eyelids. Whining his tiredness, Billy stretched on the wood chips under the jungle gym, arms and legs trembling, before he sighed.
“I think I got kidnapped again.” Reaching under his shirt, he admired the acorn necklace. “Did I just pass another secret goodness test?”
Billy sat up and shivered. Despite sleeping outside, he felt toasty warm, like he'd just crawled out of a bed. Nighttime stole his cozy body heat.
In the corner of his eye, candlelight woven from music twinkled. Billy didn't move. Rushing had lost them every other time. Slowly, he peeked from under his eyelashes.
Fireflies danced circles around the tallest slide on the playground—that is, if fireflies looked the way honey tasted. Candle-bright fantasy twirled atop mushrooms, tiny arms and legs nearly invisible for their radiance.
Instinct and past experience told Billy that if he called down lightning, reality would play pretend that nothing had ever been there at all. That was how he had spent hours chasing ghosts of giggles. Gaze fixed on stubby grass glittering with fallen stars, he crawled across the dark playground, dew seeping cold into his jeans and slicking his palms.
Once close enough to touch, he noticed a Billy-shaped hole in their dance. Climbing to his feet, he waited until it circuited around to step into its shoes.
Music felt more than heard dragged him forward. Billy lurched ungracefully, careful to avoid squishing the mushrooms and wishes granted bodies that fluttered like flower petals.
“Ow!” Billy yelped as a sharp pinch scolded him for losing rhythm. “I'm trying!”
Flitting to eye-level, a glimmer skipped and spun in slower demonstration. He copied their leap, and stumbled; tiny hands pushed him back on track. When he stopped thinking, just followed the frolicking, something clicked. Joy burbled in the dark. He found himself laughing, his voice and steps becoming the song under the wide eye of the moon.
Something hard knocked his back. Billy caught a railing as he came back down to Earth, and realized he had run into the slide. Mounting the steps, he turned back to wave. A dazzling pirouette rolled down the line.
Happiness flew high in his ribs. Billy ran up the stairs in the center of the mushroom circle. Dropping his feet into the slide, he grabbed the sides and pushed hard, laughing as his stomach jumped and wind blew his hair.
His feet planted on thick grass taller than his stomach, rather than dirt trenched by the heels of kids.
Billy gasped in the broad daylight. Clouds hung in the intensely blue sky as if painted there. Disoriented, he twisted all around. Emerald grass shimmered in sweet wind, stretching as far as the eye could see. The tall ends tickled his elbows. Sprays of jewels bloomed in wildflower patches here and there. No trees or buildings or anything broke the horizon.
“The Wizard's gonna be so happy!” Billy spun, arms out like an airplane to feel the grass skim his skin. Jumping, he landed in a crouch, invisible in the tall field.
“He's gonna think I did such a good job,” he whispered to his knees. Fists on his hips, he popped up like a meerkat. “This is a job for—Captain Marvel!” Billy raised his hands to the sky. “SHAZAM!”
In the wake of lightning, power sparked from his body. Cap leaped into the air, field rippling circles below. The grass hadn't even reached his hips! He scanned the horizon for any landmarks—
Nasal laughter howled from behind his back.
Captain Marvel shrieked. Hands clapped over his mouth in horror, he whirled around. A boy in a floating, golden cage curled over and pounded the floor, convulsing with laughter. He wore black nail polish, and his dark hair twisted into something like horns.
“You're a, you're a—” The boy couldn't speak through his hilarity. “A baby!”
Frowning, Marvel crept closer. There didn't appear to be a door to the cage. The very bottom projected an illusion of the sky; that explained why he'd missed the whole thing overhead. It felt like metal to the touch. Gold detailing didn't reveal any of the spell's inner workings. Turquoise tiling on the cage's floor and domed ceiling tessellated hexagons.
Maybe the roof would lift off?
Wiping his eyes, the boy still shook with chortles. “A little kid, oh my gods, the Wizard's scraping the bottom of the barrel—what do you think you're doing?”
“Getting you out.” Cap's arms bulged as he tried to rip the top off the cage.
“Huh? Why?” The boy's confusion darkened with suspicion. “What do you want?”
“I want to get you out, duh.” He circled the cage, hoping to find some hidden trick to it. “No one should be locked up like this.”
“Hmph.” The boy crossed his arms imperiously. After watching Cap struggle to pry apart the bars, he said, “You can't do it like that, dummy.”
“Oh, yeah? What do I need to do?” Cap laid his forearms on the cage's lip and rested his chin on them, legs kicking behind him.
The boy peered at him like he was a really weird potato chip, and he wasn't sure if he was safe to eat. “The Spring Court has my familiar captive. If you release him of his binds, then,” he snapped his fingers, “I'll free myself like that.”
“Great!” Cap perked up. “What's your friend look like?”
The boy gave him a narrow look, and spoke slowly, “He's an orange cat with red eyes. You know. Obviously a familiar?”
Cap, who had been imagining another boy, accepted this with a nod. “And what are your guys's names? My name is—”
“Gods, you are stupid!” The boy slapped his forehead before leaning in aggressively. “Don't tell anyone your name here, ever, or they'll have control over you, dumbass! And never trust that you're actually alone!”
Opening and closing his mouth, Cap finally said, “But… what do I do if someone asks my name?”
His voice grew shrill. “Give them a nickname!”
“Okay, you can call me Cap! Or Billy, but not when I'm in my bigger body, please.” If good followed doing good, then maybe trustworthiness would follow trusting; his identity was already scrapped, anyway. “Do you have a nickname?”
The boy mimed strangling him, but when all Cap did was tilt his head, he gritted out, “You can call me Klare. Gods,” he added under his breath.
“Oh, okay, Claire.” Cap had thought this was a boy, but maybe not. “Why are you wearing a suit?”
Klare sneered. “'Cause I'm a classy bitch.”
“I,” Cap stopped, because he didn't know if he was supposed to agree with that or not, or whether that confirmed that Klare was a girl. “So, where is the Spring Court?”
A weird horn resounded over the field. Cap looked around, puzzled, and his jaw dropped at the sight of a whole forest to the East. He pointed. “That wasn't there, before!”
“The drama in this place!” Klare cackled. “You'd better hide before the Host gets you.”
“Uhhh.” Feeling like he was being quizzed for something he hadn't been taught, Cap flew above the floating cage and cried, “Shazam!”
As soon as the lightning left his ears, he heard Klare snarling, “Not up here, stupid, you're gonna fry me!”
“I know how not to zap things,” complained Billy, wounded. He slid down the roof until he could brace his sneakers on the frilly edge and hug the warm dome. “Why am I hiding?”
“'Cause Fair Folk eat magical babies, everyone knows that.” That sounded too amused to be believed, but that also might have been because Klare was kind of mean and thought Billy being eaten was funny.
“Are they really gonna eat me?” he squeaked. Suddenly, he remembered the baby that nearly got stolen. Was that baby magic?
“Or they'll use you like a curly straw straight to the Rock of Eternity. Whatever.”
Muted thundering drew near, like a million bouncy balls falling downstairs. Billy wished he could see what was going on. He also wished he could hold someone's hand. The loud horn was definitely a lot closer. The Wizard would get really, really mad if Billy lead the people trying to get at the Rock straight to it.
“Witchboy!” cried a baritone voice.
“Which boy?” Billy mouthed to himself. They should only know about Klare, so—?
“Get out of my room, Mom,” yelled Klare snidely. Answering to 'boy' meant he was one, right?
“All of nature is the Court of the Queen and King,” declared the man, who even Billy could tell had the sense of humor of a school principle. “A truthful tongue may find you lenience, Witchboy! Her Celestial Majesty commands you to speak: have you seen the Judgment of Olympus?”
“What?”
“The Spear of the Highest Judge Protector of the Greek?”
“Who?”
“The Grecian King of Sky and Thunder!”
“Ohhh,” yelled Klare, “You mean—ZEUS?”
As he smothered his laughter, Billy saw the sky darken in the golden dome's reflection. Thunder vibrated the cage. Wind tugged at his shirt. Far below, horses neighed and stamped anxiously. So, that's what that sound was—hooves!
“Petulant fool! Rot for millennia with naught to eat but your own filth!”
The Host's horn drowned out Klare's dismissive, “Yeah, yeah, eat shit and die,” and the clamoring of many hooves receded into the West.
Billy wished he could see the horsies. “So, if I follow them, will I find your familiar?”
Klare scoffed. “No, dummy. Follow the trail that they came from.”
“Okay!” Billy sat up on the dome. The wind had stopped, but the sky continued filling with angry clouds. “So, no names, only nicknames. Is there anything else I should know?”
He sighed and said drolly, “Don't eat anything, no matter what—”
“No problem! I won't have to eat for four nights.”
“Whatever,” said Klare. “Don't say thank you or you'll get enslaved at best, don't say sorry or you'll get drowned, probably, but don't be rude or you'll definitely get drowned.”
“I have to be polite but I can't say thank you?” Squatting, Billy stuck his head between his knees, trying to see over the edge without falling. “That doesn't make any sense!”
“Got that right.” Klare snorted. “Just remember the Seely love their bullshit.”
“The ceiling love—? Oh!” Billy remembered the sing-song lady in his dream. “The Seely are silly!”
“Sure. Etymologistically, even,” he said, sounding bored. “Oh, and don't accept any gifts.”
“Etym… Etymuh…”
“Ignore that part,” snapped Klare. “The Seely are silly, that's it. But don't tell them that, or they'll kill you.”
“Why?”
“Fuuuck, I'm gonna be stuck forever,” groaned Klare. “Because the Seely are silly, dumbass! They do silly things!”
“Like murder?” shrieked Billy.
“Oh my gods, just shut up and do what I say.” Klare's hand stuck out of the bars to shoo him. “Now, go off and die, already. The castle's East. Go. Mush.”
“Mean…” Billy whined before sucking a deep breath. “SHA—”
“SHUT UP!” Klare banged on the cage like an irate neighbor. “Didn't you hear them and their spear of sky and thunder or whatever? They're coming for your lightning, you—stupid—baby!” The bars clanged with each word. “Your best chance is while they're gone! Don't draw them back!”
“But—but how do I get down?” Billy's voice rose, and he hugged his knees. “I'll die if I fall from here!”
“That's a you problem,” grouched Klare. “Ask your thunder daddy for a lift. I don't care.”
“Zeus isn't my dad.” He muttered into his jeans. The ominous clouds grumbled. “Oh, right! You said names have power, here!” Carefully standing, Billy folded his hands under his chin and beseeched the sky with his best puppy dog eyes. “Zeus, could you pretty, pretty please help me get down from here so I can save my new friend and also the Rock of Eternity and not die, please? Zeus?”
A dull thunk from below. “You're supposed to offer something when—”
Billy screamed as a powerful wind knocked him off the cage. He tried to call for the Wizard, but the air was so fast it sucked the breath from his lungs. Everything was spinning and scary, then he was rolling across soft grass.
Gasping, he laid there for a bit as the tornado dissipated.
From the ground, he couldn't see the cage at all. Klare's distant voice came from nowhere: “What the fuck?”
Billy sprang up from the long grass and cupped his hands around his mouth. “THANK YOU, ZEUS!”
Klare yelled over the pealing thunder, “Stop saying his name and go save my cat!”
“Okay!” Billy ran backwards. “Don't you worry, Claire, I'm a superhero, so I'm great at saving cats!”
He twisted on his heel and sprinted through the field, grass whipping his arms. Strangely, he felt like he could run forever, just like when he was Captain Marvel—could Atlas be looking out for him even now?
Sunlight beamed through distant boughs, illuminating little white specks. Mushrooms climbed bark like shelves; boulders snored quietly. Billy watched his step around spiky bushes snagging his shoes and clothes. Patches of moss cobbled together a path that squished underfoot.
Soon, he came upon an archway of thorns bursting with roses.
Before he could run through it, a twisty staff carved with snakes blocked him. Billy skidded to a halt. His gaze followed the walking stick up to a tall man. Shirtless with light brown skin, he wore a satiny red skirt with a matching one-shoulder cape. His sandals wrapped up to his knees, with wings on the heels. They shone silver, matching his winged helmet.
He pointed to another path that Billy hadn't noticed. “Castle's that way.”
“Oh, thanks.” Billy ran down stairs of fallen saplings. Behind him, there came a slap of a hand hitting flesh. That reminded him of Klare, and he realized he'd broken the rules. “Oh, no! I mean, sorry—wait, dang it—”
Billy searched whence he came anxiously. The man was gone. Instead of a flowered archway, a blackened wall of mean-looking brambles obstructed the other path.
“Sorry but I can't say that so I'm not sorry,” Billy whispered behind his palms, then continued on his way. The path got bigger and taller until he had to crawl over the steps, lower himself by his fingers, and drop the rest of the distance. Knots in the trees looked almost like doors, but Billy held his acorn necklace and didn't look too hard. He was on a mission!
A massive wall just like a living tree rose before him; the trunk vanished beyond the forest canopy. Touching the bark, his fingers skimmed the side as he ran its circumference. Lots of paths branched out in a circle around it, some twilit and radiating cold, another misty and melodious in a way that felt heavy in his teeth, others smelling so good he almost went to sleep.
“Hey.” The man with the winged sandals lounged on a mushroom taller than Billy. He pointed down a sunlit path of clovers and buzzing bees. “Castle's that way.”
“Th–” Billy stopped himself. “Um, about earlier? I didn't mean to say that.”
“Say what? I'm hard of hearing,” the man deadpanned. The walking stick rolled off the mushroom. He stretched a hand without getting up. “Too far away. Ugh. Can't reach.”
That sounded super fake, but Billy returned the staff to him, anyway. The wooden snakes felt oddly alive. “Here, you go!”
Leaning into his face, the man emphasized, “You. Are most. Kind.”
“Uh, than—I mean, you're welco–” He covered Billy's mouth; he jerked away. “Don't!”
“The polite response is: as are you,” said the man mildly. “Say it back.”
He inched away. “As are you?”
“Good boy.” He folded his hands behind his head and laid back down on the mushroom.
Billy rocked on his heels. “What's your name, mister? I mean, what's your nickname?”
The silver wings on his helmet gleamed. “The fleet-footed.”
“Hi, my name—I mean, you can call me Billy! Thank—um, you are kind? For the directions!” Billy walked backward, then ran down the road of clovers. “Bye, Feet-footed!”
The path smelled of tangy honey and greenery. He passed beehives the size of houses, and stairs made of old wood and fungus that went nowhere. Soon, the mushrooms grew as tall as trees, and trees became the sky. Minty light filtered through wavering, verdant clouds shaped of leaves.
Something sparkled up ahead. Billy found a dazzlingly, ardently beautiful road of colored glass and enormous seashells, gold filling the mosaic gaps.
“Ooh,” cooed Billy, his feet drawn closer.
“Nope.” A hand grabbed the top of Billy's head and turned him around to face the clover path. He blinked up to see Feet-footed.
He pointed. “Castle's that way.”
“Tha—” Billy stopped himself. “Uh.”
“You are most kind,” groaned Feet-foot.
“You are most kind,” repeated Billy.
“As are you,” said Feet-foot through his hands.
“As are you!” Billy cheered as he ran away, ignoring Feet-foot's muttered, “Gods dammit.”
Mushrooms grew thinner and sparse as lush clovers unfurled into rolling mounds. Chartreuse daylight deepened to periwinkle as Billy emerged from the woods. Climbing the hills, he tried to follow his ears. Tinkling voices and babbling water wafted with no apparent source.
He half-climbed, half-crawled up a spiraling slope, when someone appeared immediately beside him.
Billy scrambled back. His own reflection stared from a curtained window. Gawking, he poked the glass. It was real. Then he dug his fingers into the dirt that, yes, the whole, entire window had been installed into.
“What the heck?” he whispered, then perked up. “Wait a minute!”
Twisting around, he took in the scenery with fresh eyes. Excitement quickened his heart. He bounced in place giddily.
He was on the castle!
Now, to find Klare's familiar. The window didn't open from the outside. That was pretty normal. Billy found that if he ever needed in somewhere, slipping in the front door behind a grown-up was usually best.
Scuttling uphill on his hands and feet, Billy perched on what he thought was a tower. Viridian fields contrasted the violet sky; black forests loomed on the horizon, one tree towering above all others. Mushroom caps bordered the woods and fields like the roofs of houses. Nearby, royal purple and blue blossoms poured down a rocky cliff.
Laughter rang like bells beyond Billy's vantage. People!
He slid down on his butt until the slope leveled out. Clambering to the cliff-side, he discovered it was actually a stone wall. Flowers grew in-between the blocks, vines thick and woody. It overlooked a garden whose plants made pictures like a mural. Beyond that, a hedge maze wound to the distant mushrooms encircling the castle grounds.
In the lawn before the maze, four grown-ups played with a tiger. Billy climbed down the flowers and crept closer.
A woman wearing little else but flower petals raised a leash overhead. The collared feline stood on two legs. Sauntering toward the woman's short, winged friend, the cat tucked his face behind huge paws bashfully.
The winged one fluttered coquettishly.
Pouncing, the cat licked broadly over their face. Everyone dissolved into squeals and mirthful shrieks.
Wait, that's not a tiger. Its stripes aren't black. Billy had much more personal experience with tigers than most seven-year-olds. With that shape of face and long fur, that looked more like a giant house cat.
A giant, orange house cat with red eyes.
The one with lavender skin took the leash. Flower Lady clapped and trotted backward in anticipation. Lavender bowed grandly, the feline mimicking them. The familiar sprang into a hand stand that wobbled dangerously close to the giggling spectators, bushy tail lashing for balance.
Billy's mouth twisted. Anger burned in his gut. Bullies.
The leash passed to a man with billowing, gossamer sleeves that revealed wiry muscle. He hopped onto the familiar's back. The cat pranced like a stallion.
Hugging his legs, Billy scowled. I need to get that leash. Transforming is the last resort; I can't lead them to the Rock of Eternity. The Seelie are silly… They love their bullshit…
The Seelie are silly.
With a steadying breath, Billy tromped up a small hill. Despite being in plain sight, they hadn't noticed him.
Leash straining against the cat's throat for balance, Sleeves tried standing on the familiar's back.
Laughing loudly, Billy cried, “Whee-hee!” and cartwheeled down thick clovers into their midst. He tumbled and fell his back.
“A child!” squawked Sleeves.
“Does that belong to someone?” said Wings.
Flower Lady crouched down to Billy's level and smiled beautifully. Hundreds of petals grew out of her skin. “Who might you be, sweet one?”
“Hello! You can call me Billy.” He accepted her hand up and recited, “You are most kind.”
“As are you, my little sweet.”
So far, so good, Billy. He bowed over their clasped hands, copying Lavender. “May I have this dance?”
Her mouth parted in surprise, expression open, before brightening like the sun. “For such a delightful partner, I gladly accept!”
He yelped in fear as she swept him into a spinning hug, then released him and strode three paces away. She turned to face him. Lavender and Wings joined so that they all stood in a square. Billy's eyes darted; this wasn't like the slide at all.
Sleeves draped himself around the feline's thick neck, leash wrapped around his palm.
Studying the other pair surreptitiously, Billy tried to mirror Flower Lady as they touched palms and spun. Thankfully, the dance repeated the same four steps. Seen from the outside, their swirling around each other probably made pretty shapes.
Everyone but Billy rotated into a new square. He scurried to his spot among peals of laughter.
Lavender, his new partner, smirked, teeth sharp and thin like a piranha's.
Confident he knew the rules, Billy twirled with the quickening rhythm; once partnered with Wings, he ran to keep pace. As everyone glided apart for the third time, Billy jogged away, face pink from exercise.
As cutely as possible, he bowed to Klare's familiar. “May I have this dance?”
Flower Lady tittered as Wings said, “I'll dance with the honored guest, next!”
Brimming with mischief, Sleeves picked up the cat's huge, fluffy paws, and placed them on Billy's shoulders. Standing on his hind legs, the familiar towered over him. Red eyes betrayed no emotion at all.
With a kiss to the feline's cheek, Sleeves gave Billy the leash.
The instant he touched it, his eyes flew wide. As surely as he controlled his own hands, Billy knew that he could make the familiar do anything at all. It felt oddly like realizing he'd had a third arm his whole life. He clenched the leash tightly. This is evil. I'm so sorry they did this to you.
The grown-ups formed a square around them.
Dance with me for just a minute, then we can run away, Billy mentally intoned, holding eye contact. The partners clasped hands on either side of him. He and the familiar stepped back to the leash's limit, circled one another, and rejoined. Callous gaiety whirled around them. I won't let them take you again. We're gonna get this thing off, and get away. Claire is waiting for you.
An image flashed before Billy: a boy with black hair, dark eyes glinting red, smiling down at him fondly. Rage, loneliness, and many kinds of pain bled into his mind. Feline eyes glowed crimson.
Billy placed his free palm on the cat's paw pads, pacing a circle in the center of the other dance partners. He tried projecting the voice-memory of Klare saying, “If you release him of his binds, then I'll free myself like that.”
Claws like daggers flexed impatiently.
Almost there, thought Billy as everyone released each other, fingertips trailing, as soon as they spin…
Escape!
The order snapped open the collar. He dropped the leash. Praying to Mercury, Billy pounded his feet as fast as possible. The familiar shrank to the size of a house cat and darted between his legs.
“Where is he going?” Wings protested. “It's my turn!”
Before he could trip, a huge, orange body lifted Billy from the ground. He clung to the familiar's fur for dear life. The ground blurred as they galloped into the maze. Shouts faded from his ears.
“Do you know where you're going?” asked Billy.
“Merraow,” said the cat.
“That's good, 'cause I don't.”
“Mrow.”
Scarlet energy sparked from the familiar. Tendrils darted behind Billy. Someone appeared against his back, arms surrounding him to bury hands in the familiar's scruff. A nasally voice cried, “Teekle!”
Rumbles vibrated through the familiar's body. They leaped a shining brook.
“I can't believe this dummy actually did it—”
“I said I would,” complained Billy, swaying around turns.
“—are you hurt?”
The big cat growled low and angry.
“We'll get them back, Teekle,” said Klare darkly, and Billy looked over his shoulder to see the witchboy's face warp demonically. “I'll force feed them their own boiled hands for laying them on you!”
“Won't that just—” Billy's teeth clacked shut over his, '—get you in more trouble,' as the tall hedges on every side swelled like the breath of a beast. Thorns like swords edged in close. Roses flourished in seconds, spreading petals until they crumbled in death, fresh buds in their place.
“What did you do?” shrieked Klare, lashing out with clawed hands. Plants didn't catch fire so much as they transformed into ravenous flames that swirled into a tunnel. Teekle dove through the hot plumes.
“Me?” Billy searched for a place to call lightning. He'd take fire over getting stabbed, but hoped for neither. “I'm not doing it!”
“You did something!”
Teekle yowled, ears pinned back. They slowed to a halt. The cat and his witchboy both glared into the rising smoke, so that's where Billy looked, too.
Millions of soap bubbles erupted in every direction. Swallowing the smoke and fire, they cascaded into the sky in a wash of rainbows. In their wake floated a pretty man in flowing, transparent robes that glinted like worm silk and concealed absolutely nothing. Gold leaves and butterflies adorned his brow.
Billy whispered in Klare's ear, “Does he know he's naked?”
“I hate you,” he muttered back, which was mean and didn't even answer the question.
Thorned vines grew into a perch below the man's feet. At first, he looked away in dismissal—asking someone unseen, “What disturbance is this—?”
—then his gaze snapped unnervingly upon Billy.
“Your Majesty!” Wings flew into sight from below the hedge line, bowed, then pointed at him and Klare. “The little one stole the guest of honor!”
A cruel smile cut the King's face. “Then it is only fitting that he fill the position himself.” He drew a leash from nowhere. A collar sized for Billy's neck swung like a pendulum.
He gasped, shrinking back into Klare.
Someone else gasped as well. Peeking under Klare's arm, Billy saw the others he had danced with. Flower Lady clutched her cheeks in happiness, her eyes twinkling.
Billy felt sick.
“How can he be the guest of honor,” drawled Klare, “when you haven't treated him as one? I would guess you never even offered the traveler a refreshment.”
Drawn tall and prideful, the King looked sidelong at his people. They shifted guiltily.
“How remiss of my subjects. As Lord of this Court, I shall rectify their lapse.” He clapped his hands twice, looking pleased. The collar wiggled. “A tea party in honor of our guests. Prepare them accordingly.”
Toes scarcely touching the hedges, the King glided away.
Charcoal crunched under Flower Lady's feet. “Let us depart, my sweet, that we may—yee!”
She screamed and fell as Teekle's claws swiped the air.
Klare threw his head back and laughed. “I love the games cats play!”
The witchboy slid to the ground. A roll of his wrist, and the fur on his black suit whisped into red energy that coiled menacingly around his fingers. “He's an obligate carnivore, you know. Even one so lacking in, hm,” he looked her up and down, “meat as yourself can loosely resemble a snack.”
He strode confidently into their midst, trailed by his familiar. A snarl like a chainsaw ripped from the feline, and Wings, drifting closer in apparent fascination, flinched ten feet into the air.
Billy squeezed Teekle's warm coat, grateful that no one made him get down.
“You will find many of the Court familiar with the kitty's games,” said Flower Lady, unhappy mouth trembling. “As glad a guest we have hardly seen.”
“And so flexible in play!” Sleeves stepped close to Klare with fake friendliness. Shoulders squared, he peered down his nose. “Nary a protest of pride for even—”
Teekle pounced; Billy shrieked. Breath rushed from Sleeves as giant paws crushed his back into the hot dirt.
“Call off your pet!” screamed Wings.
Billy eyed the lack of claws. “They're just playing the same game as before. It's his turn to be the horsie.”
“I hear nary a protest of pride.” Klare's eyes flashed as they bored into the suffocating man. “Benevolence as King Magnus' is as rare a gift as the bliss of ignorance. Truly, the only comparable peace for those with even two thoughts in their brain is in the embrace of death.”
“The only death Underhill is the little sort.” Spikes sprouted from Flower Lady's skin like fur standing on end. She clenched her fists and threatened, “Remember that you are a guest; for while in the Court's care or contempt you may sample succor.”
“Benevolence or indolence, I wonder, for a subject so blissful to claim a guest honored by the King as your sweet,” sneered Klare.
Most everything went over Billy's head, but he understood that part, and hadn't liked being called her anything.
Grabbing his courage with both hands, Billy said, “Everything that is of me is only mine!” He sounded young, even to himself, and he missed Cap's big voice. “And sharing isn't always caring…” He grew quiet, searching for his words. “…when it isn't done in good faith.”
A stalemate stretched for several heartbeats.
Lavender huffed, stepping forward for the first time. “Such heaviness on this beautiful day. Allow us to meditate on nature as we escort the honored guests.”
They strode beyond the group without a backward glance.
Klare looked at Sleeves like scum, then clicked his tongue. “Playtime's over. Let's go.”
They traversed the warmth of the garden. Nobody spoke. Crossing a threshold of massive doors, Billy expected to be made to walk, but nothing happened except Teekle's shoulders rolling him back and forth as they ascended wide stairs.
Tapestries told stories he didn't understand; some silly like bunnies playing cards, others disturbing and gruesome. One showed royalty piggybacking stone people while battling… was that Satan?
Mommy or daddy could have said something smart about where it all came from, but Billy didn't know how to do that.
Lavender bowed them into a chamber dripping in white, bell-shaped flowers. “May your stay be as pleasant as your company.”
The door shut behind them.
Teekle shrank underneath him. Billy landed on the floor. Walking out from under him, the cat hopped onto Klare's shoulders and rubbed their cheeks together, purring loudly.
Jeweled bowls steamed on a table with towels and bottles. Fancy clothes spread over each bed, including a vest for Teekle's bigger body. Thinking of the mind-control leash, he touched none of it. Neither did Klare.
Billy crawled to a pelt rug because it looked very, very soft. “So, what's going on? Why are we having a tea party?”
“It's our way out, since you got us caught in two seconds flat!” Klare slouched into a fainting couch, arms crossed. Teekle shoved his face under his chin and curled atop his chest.
“They were bullying him, I had to!”
Klare rolled his eyes, but subsided and petted his familiar. “We need to trick the King into breaking the rules of hospitality or into going back on his word.”
Billy raised his hand. “Can't we just escape right now?”
“Probably. They'd hunt us forever, though, and have fun doing it.” Klare didn't look away from Teekle, his voice quietly vicious. “But if we beat them now, you can get them out of the Wizard's ass, and I can get revenge for them stealing my familiar.”
“Why didn't they just lock you back up?”
“'Cause I'm with you, and the King wants you under his control,” he said, annoyed.
“Huh? Why?” Billy's eyes rounded.
“He probably knows about your, y'know,” Klare glanced about the room, “bzzz-zam big guy thing.”
Fear iced over his heart. “No way! He can't!”
“Shut up!” Klare snapped. “Don't get guards called in here, gods. Maybe he just smells magic on you. Whatever. It doesn't matter. It's all the same in the end.”
They eat magic babies. Billy sank his cheek into the pelt, eyes narrowed in suspicion. They had no way of knowing about Cap, right? Running his fingers through the rug, he said, “Are we still not allowed to eat anything?”
“Or drink anything, duh. But don't be rude about it.” Klare curled his lip. “Actually, just keep your stupid mouth shut. I'll do the talking.”
Billy nodded, because that's what one did with dumb rules. “Will they be eating and drinking?”
He took a slow, deep breath and gritted out, “Obviously.”
“What was that rule on gifts, again?”
“Oh my, fucking—that's it. Fine!” Klare levered off the couch, quick and agitated.
Billy jolted to his knees, ready to run, but Klare only plopped cross-legged on the floor, the fireplace to his back. Teekle grumbled and settled into the cradle of his legs.
The witchboy glared. “You want questions? Let's ask questions. But we'll make it fair,” he sneered mockingly. “I go, then you go. That's what you heroes like, right?”
A smirk tugged at Billy's lips. “Does that count as your first question?”
“Yeah, sure.” Klare rolled his eyes. “And that was your, like, fifth. So, tell me: how the hell does a midget like you get to be such a—” He rolled the words around in his mouth. “Big cheese.”
Captain Marvel's nickname?
“Oh.” Billy tipped onto his back, crossed his legs in the air, and held his ankles. He imagined the Wizard glaring at him for telling, but it wasn't like Claire didn't already know. “It's so weird, I've never told anyone this. Um. So, a long time ago—okay, not really that long, but I haven't been counting—like, before Christmas? Anyway, so, one time I got kidnapped by a weird old guy in a subway—”
The witchboy snorted in surprised laughter. “What?”
“That's your second question!” cried Billy joyfully, just before he was punched on the knee. “Ow—”
“Finish the story!”
“Okay, so I got kidnapped on the subway—um, um, so I was in this cave with these creepy huge statue things,” Billy sucked a deep breath, “and the old man on the subway looked like Santa but not, he was the Wizard—”
“Did you actually call him Santa?” Klare interrupted.
Billy folded down a third finger. “Uh, maybe? But then he was all 'you can been chosen.'” He effected a raspy tone as he rolled upright. “Except he also said my whole name, and then struck me with lightning, and—”
“The Wizard or your thunder daddy?”
“What?”
“Struck you with lightning, dumbass!”
“Uh, both? I think? And then I was in my bigger body!” Billy beamed heroically, like Captain Marvel posing for a photo. He found himself anxiously anticipating the older boy's reaction.
“That,” the witchboy declared, looking reluctantly entertained, “is deeply fucked.”
He thinks I'm cool!
Glee washed over him. “It's the best thing to ever happen to anybody!” He bounced in place. “And then I figured out how to get back into my Billy body.”
“You got stuck?” Klare yelled, grinning.
Teekle's eyes flew open as he crankily purruped.
Billy squinted and tilted his head. “Not really? Kind of? I could change bodies the whole time, I just wasn't listening when the Wizard said how 'cause I was all huge and like, 'Wow! I'm not dead! I'm just really tall!' And then I had to get him to let me go into the real world and not stay in a cave for forever.”
Klare raised his eyebrows incredulously. “How'd you bargain that one?”
Billy folded down a fifth finger; that meant he could ask questions! “I promised to try my best as Champion and not get distracted from my duties.”
The fireplace leaped behind Klare. His eyes widened.
Hurrying before he could lose his turn, Billy asked, “What's the rules on gifts? For me and for them?”
“They can do whatever they want with a gift, but you don't accept any, 'cause it's a probably trick.” Klare eyeballed the fire. “Why'd the Wizard choose you? You're literally an infant.”
“I'm literally seven,” corrected Billy, “and he pretended to be homeless and I helped him even though I needed help, too.”
“Huh. What an asshole.”
Billy startled. “He didn't do anything wrong, though!”
The witchboy laughed darkly. “Yeah, okay.”
He debated arguing the point, because testing for goodness before zapping someone with 'You're Basically Superman' was only smart, but he also didn't think the witchboy cared. Instead, Billy asked, “What's your favorite color?”
Klare looked away from the fire to peer down his nose at him. “Orange.”
“Aw, like Teekle? Mine's red.”
“I didn't ask.”
The fire danced high again; at the same moment, a knock came from the door.
Billy gasped.
Klare draped Teekle around his shoulders and drew himself up tall. “Enter.”
A curved, bare foot with long nails like an owl eased the door open. A little girl Billy's age followed, body disproportionately small compared to her giant feet. Her green dress tied behind her neck. Brown, speckled feathers as long as her whole body hugged close to her sides.
“Greetings, honored guests,” she whispered loudly, back slightly hunched. “His Celestial Majesty, Resplendent Sovereign of Dawn, Lord of the Spring Court and the Four Winds, the Exquisite King Magnus of the Wilds, invites you to tea.”
Klare scoffed and brushed past her.
Billy trotted after. “Did it take you a long time to learn all that?”
“Would you?” she whispered.
“Huh?”
“Take a long time.”
“Probably, yeah.”
She shook her head as they approached the wide staircase. Each step bobbed her back and forth a little. Gripping the railing with one foot, she hopped over the side and fell.
Instinctively, Billy gasped and lunged to catch her.
Her wings burst open, so huge that for a moment Billy thought they'd hit the walls. Many times larger than her body, they caught the air like a parachute. She glided down the stairs. Her shadow overtook Klare. She alighted on a golden orb at the railing's base, wings poised overhead. They connected to her shoulders instead of arms.
“That was so cool!” yelled Billy.
Her eyes gleamed from below. Slowly, her enormous wings folded in, the tips brushing her cheeks.
He ran downstairs, arms out to catch the wind. He imagined that he could fly, too. Well, he could, but then they wouldn't be able to play together, 'cause he wouldn't be a kid.
Klare snatched his shirt as he passed.
Billy choked on his collar before scowling. “I don't like being grabbed!”
“Stop being so friendly if you want to live,” the older boy muttered. “That's an adult.”
Teekle's fluffy tail smacked Klare in the face.
He released Billy to pinch the tail. Teekle and his witchboy glared at each other from inches apart.
She seems like a kid to me. Billy smiled at their guide.
Her round, unfathomable eyes revealed nothing.
Still, he held his tongue as they crossed into another wing of the castle. The sound of flutes and other pipes grew louder as they rounded a corner.
Vines carved of different precious metals glittered from the walls and ceiling. Razor-sharp leaves reflected sunlight spilling through magnificent stained glass. Their images painted the corridor with dreamy brooks and glens.
A mosaic at the very end of the hall depicted King Magnus draped in the colors of fire, the sun in his hair. He gazed forehead-to-forehead into the eyes of a silver-crowned woman with starry black hair falling to her ankles, gemstone armor, and a shield like the moon. Billy gawked at the spectacle of wealth and beauty. It didn't occur to him that no doors or adjacent halls connected to the corridor until the mosaic split down the middle.
The monarchs' foreheads separated as the doors opened to reveal a garden. Pipes and flutes trilled from lights dancing between tall flowers. Enchanting, delectable scents emanated from a splendid table piled with gold and silver carafes, towers of cakes and fruits, the tiniest roasted chickens Billy had ever seen, and a crystal teapot with flowers in coral tea.
His mouth watered despite not being even a little hungry or thirsty.
Nerves gripped Billy's heart as he laid eyes upon King Magnus. He descended marble stairs, a train of opalescent fabric rippling in his wake. Long sleeves with slits up to the shoulders displayed golden bands and rings that matched his crown.
Three black collars hung from his golden belt.
Billy held his necklace through his shirt. It'll be okay. We can do this. Captain Marvel can handle anything, and he's only a word away.
“Honored guests; you are most gracious to accept my invitation,” he said silkily.
“Before we have a tea party!” Billy gulped. He tried to be brave. Staring at the floor, he spoke tremulously, “Um, before we have a tea party, I need you to promise me something.”
The fire sconces guttered. All music and sound silenced. Nothing changed in the King except for something invisible and monstrous wrapping around him like a cloak. Klare squeezed his shoulder until it hurt. Billy knew he was just scared, though, like Uncle Ben that time Billy's case worker surprised him with a visit.
“Please promise not to eat me!” Billy tried not to cringe. Don't be mad, don't be mad—
Klare sighed from the depths of his soul.
The King laughed. Everything about him was arrestingly, hauntingly perfect. The flutes resumed their song. “Oh, child. Such fantastic fears in the light of day should be put to bed.
“I, King Magnus of the Wilds, do hereby promise that I will not eat the honored guest known as Billy. You have my Word.” Utterly poised, he glided to the head of the table. “Now, I invite you to join me, young travelers. You must be parched.”
Billy allowed Klare to push him into a chair further from the King.
“A most gracious offer.” No anger colored Klare's voice. One black fingernail tapped his leg incessantly, his body tense. “I find that what I thirst most for, however, is tales of yourself.”
“Curiosity befitting a boy guided by a cat,” the King lilted low and smooth. “Stinging nettles mind kittens' noses as manners mind children's graces.”
“A cliché.” Klare rolled his eyes. “Curiosity killed the cat; satisfaction brought it back, and so-on.”
“I wondered, as your aura tasted of glamour; but a child in truth would trust the restorative powers of satisfaction.”
“Restorative? No. Preventative.” Klare smiled, measured and sly. “Predators study their environment; hunting and playing or learning to hide, there's always a bigger beast to abide.”
King Magnus laughed. “Perhaps a new venue would sate your thirst. I thought you unripe for predation—”
“—at first?” Billy piped up, finishing the rhyme with a hopeful tone.
Klare kicked his ankle.
“Ow…”
“Mimicry,” said Klare with the knowing tone of the kind of grown-up he wasn't, “Kittens and children yet practice in play the games which adults engage day to day.”
“A lesson, perchance, you wish to be taught?” King Magnus rested his chin on his hand. “Lessons of a Liege lay not in leisure. Travelers encounter adventures fraught. Hearing your stories would be my pleasure.”
“Adventures pale to the lustrous grandeur of this Wild kingdom as dangerous as pure.” Klare copied the King, propping his chin on his hand. That nervous finger tapped his cheekbone. “Requesting for tea merely company, I'd hope to your ears is a symphony.”
“Wealth is no trifle; no sitting idle.” King Magnus rose to his feet, expression as cold as starlight. “As Lord I provide; in exchange for a song, my guests shall imbibe.”
Billy must have missed something. He blinked, and delicate porcelain warmed his hands, an enticing smell curling in his nostrils. Long, orange cat hairs tickled his nose.
Panic burned cold in Billy's veins. He thrust the teacup back to the table.
“Um!” Billy's mind raced. That first rhyme before he got kicked bounced around his skull. “Before we—help? Our thirst? I have something I wanna say, first!”
The intensely blue eyes of the King, and Klare's own dark, furious gaze turned on him.
“Can I please not rhyme?” Billy twisted the hem of his shirt. “That's not actually what I want to say, but, I don't think I can do it like you guys.” He bit back an apology.
King Magnus chuckled and sat back down. “Speak your mind, child. You've done no wrong.”
“Oh, good,” sighed Billy. “Um. Okay. I don't know how to be—how to do this politely. I hope that a gray-cious host like you can get what—um, can understand.” Billy pulled his necklace over his head and trotted to the King's side, head ducked shyly. “This is a gift. For you, for hosting us, 'cause that's—” 'something you're supposed to do' seemed rude, “—'cause, you are most kind.”
“You truly are the most astonishing child I've yet seen.” Amusement curled King Magnus' lips. He stared directly into Billy's face, not once looking at the necklace. “Tell me of the offering the Champion deems fit for a King.”
A stone dropped in Billy's stomach. Klare was right. He knows. He knows. I'm in danger. The Rock—
Ears ringing, Billy continued faintly, “It's a locket, and you can wear it if you want, but I don't know if you want to because your jewelry is way prettier? But, um, the real gift is inside.” He offered his cupped hands more insistently. “Do you want to see?”
King Magnus trailed the back of one finger down Billy's cheek. He held very still and tried not to think about how much he hated it. He wished he was Captain Marvel. The hairs on his neck stood on end.
“Very well, child,” said King Magnus at length. “My curiosity is piqued. I accept your offering.”
Warm, dry fingers accepted the necklace.
Billy's knees shook. He forced himself to not skitter back, to not look at Klare. He pointed at the acorn's cap and whispered, “That's where it opens,” then quickly snatched his hand behind his back.
“Patience, honored guest,” said the King lightly. He turned the acorn over in his hands.
“Sor—” started Billy.
“So, what is it?” interrupted Klare. He smirked at the King's irritation. “What? I'm a cat, remember?”
Visibly dismissive, King Magnus primly flicked open the locket.
Billy watched closely. The King's vivid eyes dilated. His lips parted as he inhaled slow and deep, astonishment opening his expression.
“It's honey,” said Billy quietly. “It's pure and good.”
His countenance sharpened like broken glass. “A worthy gift, indeed, young Champion. Sit back down that the party can begin!”
Oddly saddened and bereft, Billy walked around Klare to his seat. The teacup radiated soothing warmth into his hands, even though he knew better than to have any. Trilling music quickened to a frenetic speed.
Klare's eyes met Billy's, questioning.
Billy nodded meaningfully to the King. Like an old curtain left in the sun, his beauty wore thin, a weakening veneer revealing something other peering from beneath his skin.
Teekle's fur stood on end, doubling his size.
Long hands poured radiant liquid gold into his cup. As the rim touched the King's gash of a mouth and needle-like teeth, Billy stretched up, cupping his hands around Klare's ear like a child needing the bathroom: “He just ate me.”
Klare's gaze jerked to his own.
“He broke his promise,” whispered Billy.
The King's eyes closed in ecstasy.
Klare's seat clattered to the floor. Scarlet swirled around his arms, raised high. The flutes shrieked into silence. Teekle burst to the size of a lion and flipped the tea table.
“Oath-breaker! False-swearer; and King of Lies!
“Your subjects; your power; yourself must fly!”
Klare roared, arms braced against whiteness blazing like the sun. Teekle pounced on tiny, glimmering bodies weaving defenses.
Billy dove for the acorn necklace in the table's wreckage.
The King screamed. Wretched outrage and pain reverberated from the castle itself.
“Word given in faith,” Klare's voice ripped apart to something deeper, wilder, less boyish. “Wyrd transform to wraith!”
Wholeness seeped hot into Billy's chest as he recaptured the acorn.
King Magnus grew hazy at the edges. Incandescent fog erupted from his being, billowing enormously, crushing the witchboy's power.
Klare fell to one knee. Red flamed in his eyes. Horns grew from the crown of his skull. His face warped, terrible and fiendish. Teekle shrank, lending his power, retreating between his witchboy's legs.
Fist clenched on the locket, Billy met the older boy's eye and yelled, “SHAZAM!”
Even through the lightning, Klare's voice howled, “By the Champion of the Wizard and a Lord of Chaos!”
“By Eternity's might,” boomed Captain Marvel. He placed his hands on Klare's shoulders, joining his strength to the spell. “Begone from us!”
Thunder roared like the end of all things. Blinding light swallowed the castle and everything in it. The taste of honey and static electricity melted into Marvel's skin. Seconds stretched like rubber into the void. Heartbeats throbbed into the space between worlds.
All at once, they stood on stubby, gray grass.
No, not gray: green.
Cap blinked in dazed astonishment. Bleak daylight filtered from an overcast sky. Rust spotted the slide on the playground, blackened Earth encircling it. Children gawked on a beat-up jungle gym, clothes muted and dusty.
In a world no longer intense and searingly colorful, his eyes and brain could finally relax.
Fawcett City.
Home.
“We did it!” cheered Cap, spinning a few feet into the air. Part of him noted the kids on the playground fleeing en mass, but the rest of him beamed at Klare. “You're free! We're free! And the bad guys are out of the Wizard's ass!”
Klare regarded him cooly, arms crossed. Teekle sat by his ankle.
Cap landed, concerned. “Is something wrong?”
The witchboy offered a hand. “I'm called Klarion the Witchboy.”
Joy bloomed out of his every pore. “Captain Marvel.” He shook hands, then, holding up a finger playfully, jogged several paces back. “Shazam!”
Billy skipped out of the pillar of lightning, trailing sparks. He thrust out his palm. “My name's Billy Batson!”
Uncovering his eyes, Klarion gave him a deeply judgmental look. A long moment oozed between them before he deigned to shake hands.
Billy beamed.
Klarion squeezed alarmingly tight and loomed over him. “What do you want?”
Unease jolted through him. “Huh? Want? But—we already got out—”
“I owe you, and I hate being in debt.” Klarion released him and crossed his arms. “So, what do you want?”
Nothing, cartoon Superman would want him to say. Doing the right thing is its own reward.
Billy chewed the collar of his shirt. A hopeful feeling, tender like a bruise, grew dangerous and bright in his mind. Klarion was a magical kid, just like him. A magical big kid who already knew about Cap. Losing him so fast and being alone again after teaming up made him feel—
Scared. Lost. Like he needed a grown up but no one listened and no one would help him and everyone said she was dead—
“I—I want—” Billy stepped closer, clenching his T-shirt in both fists. “I wanna be best friends!”
Klarion's cold look faltered. He took a breath. Held up a finger. Blinked. Wiggled that finger in his ear. “Best. Friends?”
“Yeah!” Billy's fists trembled. He thought of the other kids and all the things they had that he didn't. “Like BFF's—best friends forever!”
Something inhuman gleamed in Klarion's eyes. “Forever.” He blinked slowly. “That's. Something. A long time, for one.” He pressed his palms together like he was praying, then pointed them at Billy. “What does it mean to be… best friends… forever?”
“Um, it's, y'know.” He looked down shyly. “They tell each other everything, and they have fun together, and have each other's backs but don't go behind each other's backs…” He peeked back up.
Annoyance twisted Klarion's face into a sneer. “I'm not agreeing to the 'tell each other everything' clause.”
Billy wiped his nose with his shirt. “Oh, well, just not keeping bad secrets, then.”
“What is a 'bad secret?'”
“Like, uh, like something that hurts your friend?”
“Taking 'hurt' to mean 'physical harm' and combining that with 'not going behind each other's backs,' that means BFF's don't betray each other by word or deed, or lack of either?”
“Um.” Billy's mind raced. His stomach felt bad. “Yes!”
“And 'watching each other's backs' means offering protection?” Klarion's eyes narrowed unhappily.
Confused, Billy searched the witchboy's face anxiously. “Yeah? But also stuff like just helping each other out.”
Klarion bared his teeth. “You're trying to offer me protection and aid as my favor to you? Do you think I'm brain dead? I am a powerful Lord of Chaos but that does not balance the scales when the other side of the covenant is the Champion of all Magic!”
“But I didn't mean Cap, I meant me! Billy!” His eyes watered. “Captain Marvel is more than me—well, I'm in control, but still—I can't focus on being a friend when I'm doing my job.”
“So, it's a mutual pact of protection, aid, and loyalty,” said Klarion, quietly vicious, “but your end has an off switch.”
“This isn't that complicated!” cried Billy, chest squeezing with emotion. His tears spilled over. “Best—best friends isn't like this, it's just—it's in good faith because, 'cause best friends trust each other and like each other and—and I'm really sorry.”
Billy wiped his face, walking blindly backward. “I should—shouldn't have tried to force you. Doing the right thing is, is its own reward, and. And. Do good and good will follow. I'm okay. You're okay. Teekle's okay.” He tried to breathe deep and calm down but his lungs wouldn't work but telling someone they didn't have to do anything for you didn't count if you made them feel bad by crying. “You don't owe me—anything, you don't have to be my—you don't have to do, do anything. It's okay. Okay? We're—good.”
Something knocked the back of Billy's knees. He fell painfully onto his back.
“Ow! Ah…” Billy curled up, lifting his legs and finding Teekle under them. His heart stopped. “Oh no, oh no—I hope I didn't hurt you! I'm—” Wait, he could apologize, now. “I'm so sorry!”
The cat blinked slowly, unmovable as a statue and twice as unimpressed. His tail rose upright. He meowed at his witchboy.
With an enormous sigh, Klarion lowered on his haunches. Planting his elbows on his knees, he looked into Billy's face. “BFF's… on good faith.”
He offered him his hand.
Billy stared while his brain caught up. Broken pieces of happiness pushed more tears from his eyes. Beaming, he clasped their hands, and was pulled to his feet. “On—on good faith! Best friends—”
“—forever,” Klarion finished with him, his eyes glowing.