“The memory spell is still active. It transferred your memory anagrams to inactive neural tissue, and is rearranging them as it rewrites them back to the cerebrum in proper order.”
“Huh?”
“She’s defragmenting your hard drive,” Seth said. “Haven’t you ever used Norton’s speed disk?”
“His memory will be complete by morning,” Lelani answered.
“Should he be driving?” Cat asked.
“Probably not.”
“Now she tells us,” Seth snapped.
“You are inebriated, her ladyship is emotionally distraught, and I am incapable of operating this vehicle,” Lelani stated. “There wasn’t any other choice.”
“We could have waited until tomorrow,” Cat said.
“No. We have already wasted too much time,” she replied.
“Why are we out here?” Cal asked. He was the least concerned with his mind’s precarious state out of the group. “We should find the transfer site. Find Rosencrantz.”
“Fronik’s aid would be invaluable,” Lelani said.
“This poster is ancient,” Seth noted.
“He might know where to find Rosencrantz.”
“It’s a drawing. We don’t even know for sure that it’s him,” Cal said.
“What happened to time not being a luxury?” Seth asked.
“This could shorten our investigation,” Lelani said. It was almost a plea.
It occurred to Cat that until Cal’s brain had caught up with his life, until he got a handle on everything that went wrong, he relied heavily on Lelani’s judgment. She could hear his gears turning, trying to decide if this was a good idea or merely indulging her personal cause.
“Cal, she hasn’t let us down so far,” Cat said. “If my vote matters…”
“So much for the captain being leader of the pack,” Seth said. “‘I’ll follow his orders,’ yadda, yadda, yadda.”
Lelani looked ready to drop-kick Seth. Cal stepped between them. “We’ll go to this farm,” he said. “It’s only a few miles away. This Rogers could be Rosencrantz for all we know. Maybe Fronik got lucky.”
“I’m driving,” Cat said.
2
The dirt road ran for three miles before it came to the farmhouse-if one could even call it a house. Wooden slats barely held up a corrugated tin roof. The windows were caked with dust. The termite-infested porch was missing every other board. Ramshackle, broken, dilapidated, and deserted was what came to mind. Cal regretted the detour already. Cat pulled the vehicle around the gravel driveway and everyone spilled out.
Cal surveyed the scene, not sure what he was looking for. On a field between the house and the barn, pieces of an old canvas tent, flat and weathered with age, sporadically protruded from the snow. The poles leaned inward toward center, rusted at the bottom where they met the ground. Some had fallen over completely and turned the snow orange with oxidation. It hadn’t been used in years.
“Don’t stray,” Cal said. “Lelani, you have twenty minutes to find something relevant.”
She bolted toward the barn, which looked even worse than the house. Lelani looked like any coed running, but her tracks in the snow beyond the periphery of her spell betrayed her equestrian half.
Much to their surprise, the screen door creaked open soon after. A small Cabbage Patch-like woman with gray frizzled hair and a broom in one hand came onto the porch. Her puffy face had the texture of a walnut.
“You folks from the County?”
Cat looked less threatening, so Cal prodded her to speak.
“No, we’re not,” Cat said. “We are looking for an old friend. He looks like the actor who played the horse-man in the billboard on the road.”
The woman eyed them suspiciously. “You friends of Fred?”
“Our friend grew up with him. She’s by the barn right now.” Cat said pointing to Lelani. “Would it be okay if we talked to Fred?”
The old woman studied Lelani with a squint that doubled the creases in her face. She considered the request for a moment, then told them, “You can’t talk to Fred.”
“It’s important. His family is really worried…”
“You can’t talk to Fred on account’a he’s dead. Been dead nine years.” She pointed to a small dirty grave marker next to an old tree.
“I’m sorry,” Cat said. She looked to her husband for suggestions. Cal checked his watch, looked at the waning sun, and watched Lelani pick things out of the snow. His impatience might be an effect of his impeded brain, so he suppressed an urge to scream. He turned back to the woman.
“Did you know him well, ma’am?” he asked.
“Well enough. He was my husband.”
The three caught each other with odd expressions. The side trip was a bust as far as Cal was concerned. They ought to be heading to the lay line; they should be looking for the boy. Everyone else in the party was secondary.
“I think we may have made a mistake,” he said. “We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am.”
“T’ain’t no bother none.” She scrutinized Lelani as best as she could from the distance, shutting one eye and squinting with the other. “You saying that filly is Fred’s kin?”
“We thought so, but we were mistaken.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. Fred weren’t no actor, you know. I was wondering if she could tell me which side of the family gave him that dang horse’s ass.”
They froze in their steps and exchanged looks again.
“Excuse me, but, you said Fred was your husband?” Cat asked.
“Got kids?” Seth cut in.
“You folks come in, and I’ll make some tea.”
Cal looked toward the barn, but Lelani was gone. The porch creaked under his weight. The house smelled of must and rot. Prominently displayed on the mantel was a blue ribbon from the county fair eleven years prior for best chili recipe. A wooden cross hung on the far wall. Coils stuck out of the couch and recliner. A steel and canvas wheelchair was folded in the corner behind a door. Yellowed lace doilies were draped over most of the furniture in a delusive attempt to cover the junkyard couture of the decor. The place reminded Cal of the living room on Sanford and Son. All that was missing was a toothless, old curmudgeon.
“That’s my brother, Eustace, in the corner there,” the woman said. The spot was badly lit. A man with no teeth, a week’s worth of facial growth, and at least twenty years on his sister, grunted and raised his cane in a collective greeting and threat to knock someone’s head.
“My name’s Enid,” she said. “Take a seat, now. I’ll be right out.”
Cal checked his watch. The twenty minutes were almost up and he wished they were on their way to the lay line. According to Lelani, this Rosencrantz might be able to cast a global memory enchantment. Not only could the events of the night they transferred to this world be revealed in one fell swoop, but every member of the original party would recall their true identities regardless of where they were. It could triple their numbers overnight. Lelani had tried it herself on her arrival, but it had proved too much. Global enchantments, she said, were considered high-end mojo that even the best wizards had trouble with. All she had managed was to trigger Cal’s nightmares.
Cal noticed a Polaroid picture of Enid and her groom on the end table. It was Fronik for sure. Fronik only came up to Enid’s chest, as though he were a man proposing. Perhaps he was just being cautious about allowing his bottom half to be photographed. Cal looked out of a grime-covered window and wondered what Lelani was up to.
“Got any beer?” Seth shouted into the kitchen.
“Got any manners?” Cat scolded. “We apologize for Seth’s behavior,” she told Eustace.
The old geezer wore a stupid grin and bounced on the chair, excited. “Fursd prize. Heh. Fursd prize, heh,” he repeated. A cloudy gray stream snaked from his nose and dropped from his grizzled chin.
“You won first prize at the fair,” Cat said, politely. Cal marveled at his wife’s patience with the old and the feebleminded. No one else received the benefit of such patience from her. Catherine MacDonnell did not suffer fools well. “I’m a sucker for a good chili recipe.”