Chapter 8

"Sorry, no, I haven't seen anyone by that description."

"Well, if you do, can I count on you to notify me via this number?"

"Sure thing, lad. Hope ya find him."

"Thank you, me too. Bye."

Julian walked out of the eleventh shop that day, the motion detector chiming his departure as he passed through the double doors. He’d been to a drycleaner, a bakery, a game shop, a toy store, and at lest five grocers, all without a trace of his younger brother.

It was midday; the shadows of the tallest buildings no longer towered over the populace. The rays of sun that came through directly now made the pavement sparkle and brought a bit more warmth to the lowest levels of Solace. “Low” didn’t mean that they were trashy or dangerous; in most cases, the use of the word low was simply a lateral distinction. Low and located near the center of the city had quite a different social status than those low and laying near the fringe. The central lower levels often provided the most entertainment: restaurants, theaters and local celebrations.

It had to do with zoning mostly; those living on the upper level didn’t want the crowds and noise most fun activities attracted. The effects could be seen for miles stretching outwards from the Core. High or low, the Core meant travel. Travel meant thousands of people coming and going during all hours of the day and the presence of people meant profit. This meant, of course, most middle to lower class housing existed in the ring just outside the Core, where commerce wasn't booming and school children could play in most alleys. It was the widest discernable section of the city by far, forming a ring all the way around the Core and stuffed to the brim with apartments, public schools and stores that offered the necessities. A person could live his whole life and never venture out of that ring. Many people did: those that were happy to remain within their status quo.

Outside of this middle class band, there were the outer-most areas. As the widest part of Solace, the distance between any two tram stations was further, helping to cut those areas and their residents off from civilized society in some respects. It was like a wheel with spokes radiating from the center; each spoke was hundreds of miles long and thus hundreds of miles lay between the any two by the time they reached the end of the line. From the dead center of the city, it was estimated an five hour trip to the edge of the outer rim. This isolation created a sort of gang mentality in those living there as, by most standards, one’s neighbor was the only person one really had to rely on. This created tight-knit communities in many places, forging a real societal bond by way of a given area’s isolation from the rest of the world.

Despite this, there were still many situations where the stagnation of a community offered chances for deep grudges to grow. Feuding was a way of life for some people. No one, especially not the necessary officials, wanted to ride a tram for nearly a fifth of a day to visit a place with nothing to offer, so the fact that crime had developed as a way of life in places like No Town had made the area as popular in folk tales as The Surge.

That was one of the many reasons why Julian was searching along the middle band stretching out from the tram stations. Phineas was a smart kid; he might have traveled in a large group, hoping to fade into the crowd. Highly traveled and with a large population of younger people, this was a good place to start.

There was also the matter of publicity to take into account. People on the upper levels prided themselves in spreading information, knowing every detail of their political structure down to who was voted in to what position by what margin. They would be able to hear the description of Phineas Maxwell and know who he was instantly and perhaps be able to recall the latest news about him from their favorite publication that followed the intricate lives of political families. His disappearance would leak from there until every news station and magazine editor was crawling for the story of the missing prince of the Maxwell empire.

No, the upper levels were out of the question, as was the core, where too many people were already snooping about for that candid shot of a senator or actor caught in the middle of a scandal. In the middle band, though, where most people were satisfied with living out uninterrupted lives, most people only cared about the big name politicians and couldn't tell you the name of any of their children, let alone what they looked like. For the most part, these were kind and considerate people who were honest and helpful and with little enough political incline to keep the story from leaking to the press. Julian doubted Phineas had taken that into consideration when picking a place to run to, but enough factors worked in both their favors that it was the best place to start.

Still, this was the second tram stop from the Core and not so much as a single lead. He couldn't let himself get discouraged though. Sure, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack now that all his connections were of no more use, but he was still looking and Phineas was still out there to be found. It was just a game of hide and seek on a very large level. The hardest part was searching based on a bull’s eye pattern: a city that revolved around a central point. He might be looking in the right demographic area but Phineas could be on the opposite side of the city from him.

If he were Phineas and were running away, the most obvious places to run to would be immediately ruled out. He hadn't been sure where Phineas's mother lived, at first; it had been a bit of a surprise to Julian to see that her address was only an hour away from his own. So, logically, Phineas wouldn't take the tram that would put him down closest to them. He'd go in the opposite direction. But Phineas was smart--he'd know that most people would expect him to go in the opposite direction, so perhaps he’d taken the tram towards his mother's anyway. But Phineas would know Maxwell was also no fool and would know he was smart enough to think that through as well and would know he would counter the idea that...no, it was too circular to follow. Julian had decided to go in the direction of his own home from the nearest tram station from Maxwell's estate based purely on the fact that it was closest to home. It wasn't so much that he was lazy as that he could search longer if he spent less time traveling.

Still, with plenty enough daylight to make use of, he boarded a bus and headed further west towards the rim. There were still infinitely many stops between here and there; the shops of the Core were still present around them, though dwindling. As he rested his head against the window, the city seemed to morph on the other side of the glass. Suddenly what had been bustling and gay was dingy and dark. For a moment, Julian stared in confusion; this sort of atmosphere was misplaced in the middle band of the city. The bus stopped at a red light just far enough back that Julian could still see the sign for the darker area they’d passed. His eyebrows rose in curiosity as he read the sign. 666th street was crossed out on the city-issued sign and a new sign fashioned of scraps hung from the bottom of it to redirect ones attention to the street's nick name: The Hallow.

"Lord, I hate getting caught at this light. Hope they don't let any of those freaks on this bus."

Julian keyed in to the conversation going on in the seat behind him as the light changed green and the bus started off again.

"I don't know why they let these people work in a good, god-fearing community. Back in my day, there'd be a good protest and these sorts of abominations would be run out," spoke an elderly voice, tender but strained by years.

"Oh, it's terrible. My granddaughter said she went down there once. Nothing but a bunch of parlor tricks and lies--people snatching the credits from their pockets. That's the trouble with youth today: too entertained by thoughts of magic, but how quickly they forget about the true miracles of our lord Jesus."

"Amen."

Julian pushed the button and the bus came to a stop, wheels screeching a bit as the steel frame lurched. He stood up and turned to the two older women behind him, smiling charmingly. "Thanks for the tip. Have a good day."

The old women looked at him, clueless, as he hurried off the bus and started back towards 666th street. They were right: magic tricks and mysterious things of unknown origin were tailored to entice and intrigue a younger, more gullible generation. Perhaps Phineas had been curious as to what such a place could offer, and Julian was more than willing to take the detour to find out.

He hadn't missed the street by much. As he walked he noticed that the shops all along the main road seemed to carry on the magic and mystery theme, offering magnetic cures and stones with special properties. The closer to the street with the handmade sign he got, the more interesting the window displays became. At the end of a brisk ten minute walk, he was standing at the entrance of what must have been the heart of the area. Window displays featuring gothic-type dress and advertising spell books for revenge and love became assortments of fantastic weaponry, that promised wolfs bane and dragons blood at half price inside. He stepped carefully down the dimly lit street, looking in amazement at the array of shops around him. In truth, it was almost empty of patronage, most of the customers in view huddling near windows and dashing out as soon as they were caught peeking into the mysterious shops.

Though the street was relatively short, it took a while for Julian to walk from one end to the other. His eyes feasted upon every display he saw, his mind whirling with the possibilities. One shop caught his attention more than any of the others, though. There was no vast window display--in fact, all the windows seemed to be draped in black on the inside and boarded shut on the outside. The only thing that made it look as though it were open for business was the sign on the door welcoming any who cared to enter. It was a powerful pull on his curiosity. Julian's hand was on the door handle before he even realized the strange persuasion imbedded in the mysterious shop. He pulled the door open and peeked inside, still not one hundred percent sure the place was open for business.

It was like opening a door to someone’s attic. There were shelves and tables everywhere; the shop was filled to the brim with objects large and small. It was cluttered and disorganized, but there was no dust on a single shelf and all the lights were on, making some of the more fantastic items glisten. There was a small, old-fashioned bell attached to the top of the door that rang to alert his intrusion, but there did not seem to be anyone around to hear it.

"Hello?" he called out, looking around for some shadowy figure in a cloak.

There was a small crash from behind the counter. The drape hanging to separate the back room from the register area flapped a bit as more strange noises filtered out. After a moment, a tall young man fell out of the back room, leaning heavily against the counter as though he'd tripped and flailed his way there. He smiled with an alarmingly wide grin and waved away the awkwardness of his arrival.

"Welcome. Well, well, I wasn't expecting...well, anyway, welcome, welcome." He stood straighter, one hand mussing his already haphazard hair. "I'm Alan Keys, and this is my wondrous store of ancient relics and lost mystic arts. What can I sell you today? An amulet to give you luck? A potion for prosperity? If you're here to complain about the baldness cure, I must remind you the warning was printed quite visibly and I am not responsible for any misuse."

Julian blinked at the interesting man, putting a hand to his long hair at the last remark. "No, I'm not really interested in purchasing anything. I was just looking for my brother. I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me?"

Alan seemed to deflate on the spot. "I should have known." He sighed and rested his chin on his fists, looking up at Julian with a scowl. "Well, ask away."

"Have you seen a red haired boy, around fifteen years o--"

"No. Is that all?"

Julian blinked at him, awed by his rudeness. "I guess so. Sorry to have bothered you."

"Well, at least you understand what a nuisance you're being. There's hope for you yet, in that case." Alan stood back up and walked back to the curtain. He paused though, then seemed to suddenly reappear at the counter, grabbing Julian's arm as he began to walk out the door. "Wait! You said you were looking for someone?"

Julian tried to shake the strange man's hand off. "Yes, I did."

"So I take it you've no idea where to look for him. That's great."

"How is that great?"

Alan's smile was once again wide and charming. He pulled Julian closer by the wrist. "Have you ever heard of Quinn, the demon gypsy?"

"No...." Julian quirked his brow. "What does that have to do with finding Phineas?"

"Quinn is well trained in the reading arts. Tarot, palms, crystal balls--he is a master of them all. His unique demonic aura lets him delve deep into the human soul and lay bare on the table all one’s desires and fears." Alan's voice was lowered to a husky whisper. "He is the most accurate at his trade of anyone you will ever find in The Hallow or the world. If you want to find your brother, he can point you in the right direction."

"A demonic gypsy?"

"I bought him on a trip a long time ago across the great wastelands in Russia. They said he was an abomination found in the wilderness, a human mutation. I knew better, though: he is a demon forged from the mind of a dark god, escaped from the void of half existence."

Julian blinked in disbelief, not quite sure what to make of the interesting tale. "So you have a demon slave who tells fortunes?"

"No, I have a demonic gypsy son who is a master of the reading arts. Do you want to find your brother or not?" Alan held on to his wrist, waiting for him to answer.

"How much?" Julian finally asked at length.

Alan smiled, having won, and pulled Julian's arm across the counter, feeling along the pale inside of his elbow with his free hand. "From you...a vial of blood."

"Blood?" Julian made a face. "Since when are bodily fluids exchangeable as currency?"

"I don't care which one you are, the significance is the same," was Alan's explanation. "Just one vial. You won't find a better deal for the services Quinn can offer."

If Julian had ignored the strange sense of wrongness from the beginning, he certainly couldn’t now. Julian looked into the store owner’s cool blue eyes, waiting and watching for some sign of malice. There was none. He was eager, yes, but honest. And in a way, it was a sort of further incentive to go ahead and see what his fortuneteller could offer. No matter how useless the information the "demonic gypsy" gave, he wouldn't be out a single cred. "...Alright. How big is a vial?"

Alan smiled again and let go of his arm, running to the back room through the curtain. There was the muffle of voices for a couple minutes before he returned with a strangely decorated black flask, a white cloth and a small dagger. "It will take Quinn a few minutes to prepare. In the mean time, if you will, I need your arm again."

With slight trepidation, Julian extended it towards him. Alan held it firmly and took the dagger to the crook of his elbow, digging the point of the blade into his skin. Instantly a thin trickle of blood began to migrate down his arm, dripping into the flask. It was going to take forever, Julian thought. Then little thread of blood grew though, becoming a river and streaming off his elbow quickly.

"It's an enchanted blade," Alan explained. "It was cursed so that whoever was struck with it, no matter how minor the cut, they would bleed out and die. Nasty things, wars. Don't worry though, I have the counter curse implemented on the bandage. Much faster this way though, yes?"

Julian nodded dumbly, watching with fascination as the small prick from the dagger continued to bleed him faster and faster. The flask became overfilled in seconds, blood dripping down the sides as Alan pulled his arm away and wrapped it quickly in the white cloth.

"There we go. All better. Not that you were worried."

Julian looked down at his arm and frowned a bit. Perhaps most people would have been worried; he was usually better at remembering to react like most people should. Obviously he needed to work on displaying fear despite curiosity.

"Come this way. Quinn is waiting."

Julian looked up to see Alan holding the curtain to the back room open. He stepped around the counter and followed him through. Beyond was what looked like a storage room with many shelves stocked full of viles and jars. There was a stairway that lead up to a second floor against the back wall, most likely a small residence for the shop owner to live in. To live above such a strangely-themed shop was not something Julian would have desired.

In another corner, was a section curtained off with black silks and bells. Despite the shambled appearance of everything else, it was elegant and mysterious looking, the only thing in the room that seemed to be there on purpose.

“Go straight on in there. He’s waiting,” Alan instructed, his hands delving deep into his own pockets. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you and come running out here screaming. I don’t like people screaming in my store, and I like it less when they’re screaming because they’re looking at my boy. Demon or not, he’s civilized, more so than a lot of people I know.”

The graceful tent of linens suddenly felt more like a lion’s den. “Right...thank you.” Julian stepped forward and parted the curtain entry. It was dimly lit by candles and a smoky scent of incense greeted him as he went inside. The curtain fell back behind him, cutting off whatever counted as the real world in the back room from the charade of magic inside.

Sitting behind a round table was a somewhat tall individual. The first thing Julian noticed when looking at him were the large protrusions from his back. They were wings, or so they seemed. The tops of them came to the height of the man’s head then descended to his elbow. For wings, they seemed small in comparison to his body, but as an additional appendage, they were huge and covered under a very thin layer of nearly-transparent cloth. They would have looked fantastically fake if not for the fact that tiny clawed hands at the tops of the wings held the cloth in place over them. It was an amazing detail for a showpiece or prop.

“Please, have a seat.” Quinn gestured towards the backless chair on the other side of the table from him, his arm and hand mostly covered by the same nearly transparent cloth. He must have been painted from head to toe, because the skin that peeked out was no normal skin color. Even in the darkness of the room, it was clear his skin was a dark shade of bluish-gray. As Julian sat, he looked up at the eyes displayed between the veil and wrap that kept Quinn’s hair from his face, which was adorned with coins and jewels. The skin all around his brown eyes was the same flawless gray color. If it wasn’t paint, perhaps as a career gypsy he’d gotten himself tattooed for the part.

Then Julian noticed his ears. They were like short rabbit ears without the fur, long and curled, but without flopping over that jutted horizontality from his head. As he sat, he could see the ears twitch and adjust to the sound. Masterful design indeed and all that same blue-gray.

Quinn smiled a little, his teeth showing behind the veil. “We can wait until you are done staring, I guess.”

“Oh, sorry.” Julian bit his lip, not sure why he felt embarrassed. “I was just admiring the work that’s gone into your costume.”

“I made it myself. The hardest part was getting Da to part with his precious coins and gems. I’m sure you’re more interested in your future than in my sewing abilities, though.”

Julian nodded, scooting his chair forward. “I’m looking for my brother.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. The cards will tell me everything I need to know.” Quinn picked up a deck of cards and laid them on the table. “Take these and shuffle them. Think about your question as you do, framing the sentence in your mind, and when you think you are done shuffling, hand them back to me.”

Julian obeyed, taking the thick deck into his hands. He’d never held a tarot deck before. He wasn’t sure how many still existed even. Most things that would have been made with paper many years ago were now available only in formats you could download, like newspapers or magazines. He was sure tarot also came in an electronic form. It was like holding something ancient in his hands though, the weight and feel of each card jumbling around in his grip. For whatever reason, it made it feel all the more mystic and real to be holding the many possibilities of a reading in the palm of his hand. A skeptic would say no matter what cards were placed and when, the person reading them could bend their meaning to apply to the situation. Julian liked to think himself a little more open-minded than that. Still, it was sort of impossible to imagine the odds of a reading being completely accurate based solely on how he bothered to shuffle a deck.

He thought of Phineas as he fumbled with the slippery cards, asking them to give him some insight as to how to find him. He parted the cards, ready to shuffle the front to the back, then stopped and placed the cards back they way they were. No, he was done. He passed the deck back over to Quinn, noticing the black fingernails as he placed the deck to his right.

“Are we ready then?”

Julian gave a slow nod. The ghost of a smile made itself present under the veil again as Quinn began. Fingers at the bottom of the top card, he flipped it over and laid it down so that it faced himself. Even upside down, Julian could read the print on the card: The Fool.

“You are on a journey. Searching for someone.” Quinn’s voice was light and amused. “Nothing we didn’t already know. But it’s nice to see you managed to concentrate on the cards.” He flipped the next card down on top of the first one, crossing over it. “Ah, the Tower. Never a good card. Right now, it tells of what is in your way, barring you from this journey. It means a long, dangerous path. It is likely you will suffer personal loss if things continue in the way they are.”

“What way are things?”

“Not yet. Be patient,” Quinn scolded him lightly.

Julian watched as the next card fell facing him: the picture of a young man standing between pain and fortune.

“In your past there is a cunning man who is treacherously sly. Impulsive and impudent, he is blinded by ambition. He is domineering and cruel to others. His influence over you is strong, reaching from the base of your existence and continuing to manipulate your actions. Do you know of such a man?”

Julian felt the color drain from his face. “My father....”

Quinn nodded, knowingly. “He has a lot power over you. You make a habit of doing what he says even though you know it is in your best interest to keep your distance. This is a reoccurring problem. You can never escape his control if you continue to allow yourself to be made his pawn.”

Julian clenched his hands at his side, his skepticism fading faster. The next card fell in his direction again.

“More recently, you have made some bad decisions--perhaps you have had something stolen. Your fears to repeat this and the effects that still linger inhibit you from putting all your effort into your search.” Quinn laid down a fifth card. “But you are drained, in need of a break. There are many problems that lie just beneath the surface and soon you will need to choose a new direction that will cause you to either abandon or solve these issues.”

The sixth card to fall brought another small smile to Quinn’s shrouded face. “Don’t worry, though. The Page of Wands brings reason to celebrate in your near future. He is also an icon of adolescence. I believe you will find your brother unharmed.”

“So, is that it?” Julian asked, looking the cards over in front of them. How such simple things could tell him all that was a mystery to him. But it didn’t help him locate his brother.

“Not yet. There are four more cards to see.” With that, Quinn flipped the seventh. “This card represents you. “

Julian leaned forward a bit, reading the card upside down. “The Emperor? Is that good?”

“It’s neither good nor bad or rather, it’s both. Tarot, like life, is not black and white. However, it does say you are strong and influential. You accomplish what you set your mind to, which makes me believe even more firmly that you will find him well.” His tone became lighter, mocking Julian slightly. “It also means you are a very sexual being and have the ability to be irresistible to others.”

Julian blushed deeply. “What does that have to do with finding Phineas?”

“Not a thing. This card is simply about you, though perhaps it could mean you are easily prey to lust and may lose sight of what is at hand.” Quinn placed another card on the table. “Well, that much is certain now. You are vain and sexually promiscuous, unable to focus on the problem.”

“What the hell? Give me a break, this is completely unrelated to what I asked you."

“If you disagree, take it up with her. I just say it like I read it,” Quinn clarified. “These are the outside influences that surround you. Your primary focus is on yourself, not finding your brother.”

“That’s not true. I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve been looking for him all week.”

“As I said, I say it like I read it. That is the meaning of that card, I cannot change that.” Quinn pressed on, not wanting to get into a debate over the issue. “You fear things from the past. Your father perhaps. Someone narrow-minded and bigotous who will implement change in your life. You can’t let yourself get swallowed by these fears, though. Moving past them will help bring you to the end.” He laid down the last card. “And that end is one of victory. It will take a great deal of courage and small gain comes with great effort, but if you stay true to the course, you will find him.”

Julian stared at the ten cards, still confused and bewildered. “Do they tell you where I can find him though?”

“Nothing so concrete. But when the fool went on his journey, eventually he returned wiser for the experience and with a greater level of understanding. Rather than signifying your journey, perhaps the card itself is your brother and it will be he who finds you.” With that, Quinn began packing up his cards.

“Then what about all the rest of it? The parts about working hard and not gaining little?”

“Well, if the card was right about your inability to focus on the problem at hand, perhaps you were inquiring about more than one problem.”

Julian made a face and looked away, embarrassed and outraged, though he couldn’t really blame a card for being insulting. “Yeah...thank you very much for your time.”

Quinn nodded to him as Julian rose and left the silk tent and the scent of incense behind him. He showed himself back out to the front of the store where Alan stood, a broad smile across his face.

“So, how did it go?”

“Well, it was worth a flask of blood anyway,” Julian noted, moving around to the other side of the counter. “Thank you, again, for your help.”

“Sure, just one second though. Come here.” Alan motioned for him to approach the counter again. Julian did so and watched as the store owner took his arm again and untied the white cloth that he had put against the small wound in the crook of his elbow. “Can’t have you walking out with my counter curse, now can I.” Alan looked at his patron’s skin and his smile became dark, his eyes flashing up to Julian’s with an amused sort of morbidity. “Thing is, though, the counter curse only stops the bleeding. Yet somehow, the wound is completely gone--not a single mark left behind. Like it was never there.”

Julian ripped his arm from the man and backed away quickly out the door, leaving the shop behind him as fast as he could.