Invisible

Joy held her temper, knowing she had to choose her words carefully when speaking to invisible people, especially Inq.

“This is not a good time,” Joy whispered, trying to think of some reason she could give for standing in the middle of the restaurant talking to an empty table with a saucerful of ice in her hand. Did Neil realize that Table Four looked empty? Did he have the Sight? Had Joy put him in danger by leading Inq here? Had she exposed herself by admitting that she could see Inq, too? Joy was one of the rare people born with the Sight who had managed to keep her eyes from being cut out. Joy’s mind drifted to the four-leaf clover in her bag.

“Yes, well, that’s the trouble with mortality, isn’t it?” Inq said smoothly, opening her menu. “So much to do, so little time.” She smiled again. “I hear Antoine’s makes a passable frittata.” Joy was about to snatch the trifold menu out of her hands when Neil walked by. Inq turned to him boldly. “Excuse me,” she said. Joy froze. “Could I trouble you for a new napkin?”

Neil handed one of his freshly rolled cloth napkins to Inq and gave Joy a conciliatory “What can you do?” shrug before continuing on to Table Ten. Joy stared at Inq, who dabbed demurely at the corner of her lips.

“He can see you,” Joy said under her breath. “How can he see you? Does he have the Sight?”

Inq blinked her innocent all-black eyes. “Do you recommend the frittata?”

“Inq!” Joy placed the saucer of melting ice in front of Inq and crossed her arms as if she could hold in her heart attack. “What, exactly, does he see?”

“He sees me, of course,” Inq said with a grin. “But it’s not him—it’s me. I’m wearing a glamour. I look exactly like me, sans spooky eyes. It makes things easier when I want to buy something pretty or eat out on the town. Otherwise, it looks like some sort of ghost is haunting the place with stuff floating all around. So cliché.” She shut her menu primly. “I’d like the frittata, a side salad and a large glass of fresh orange juice, please.”

Joy flipped open her notebook and started writing to cover her racing thoughts.

“A glamour?” Joy said over her pen.

“Mmm-hmm.”

A way for the Folk to be seen—in this world!—and look like normal, everyday people? The possibilities blossomed like flowers in her brain.

“You knew,” Joy said.

“I suspected,” Inq said. “It doesn’t take a genius. Sooner or later you’d want a way to show off my brother, even if only to prove that you’re not crazy.” She tapped the table. “I’ve had more than one lehman, remember? I know how humans think.”

Joy finished writing with a flourish. “Can you tell me where to get one?”

“I’ll do better than that,” Inq said. “After brunch, I’ll show you.” She handed back the menu. “Extra croutons on the salad, please.”

* * *

After lunch, Joy stepped out of the ripples onto a familiar stretch of sidewalk. The reality check pushed her completely off balance. Inq caught her elbow.

“I thought we were going to see a man about a glamour,” Joy said.

Inq grinned. “We are.”

“Are we stopping by my house first?” Joy pointed back up the path that wound toward her condo. “We’re right between my place and the mini-mart.”

Inq started walking with a skip to her step. “Really? Do tell.”

“Wait,” Joy said while jogging to keep up. She had been nervous about being outside despite wearing the futhark pendant and having Inq as her guide. She was pretty sure Ink wouldn’t approve of the outing, but now Joy was curious, excited and confused. “Are you trying to tell me that you can buy glamours at the C&P?”

“Don’t be silly,” Inq said. “You buy glamours from a wizard. And, because this is the Glen—the original one—there’s all sorts of magic still around! You just have to know where to look.” She spoke while almost dancing around Joy in her excitement to share a new secret of the Twixt. “You’re not the only special snowflake in the neighborhood.”

Joy felt a grin tug at her lips. “So we’re really off to see the wizard?”

Inq nudged Joy. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy!” she said. “This is Glendale, once known as the Glen, one of the access doors to Under the Hill, and still chock-full of magic! Can’t you feel it?” They were coming up to the mini-mart with its giant signs for the ATM, blue-raspberry slushies and state lottery tickets. They’d had a five-thousand-dollar winner. Joy blinked, trying to use her Sight to see what was hiding beneath the familiar building, but she didn’t see anything unusual. In fact, everything looked deceptively normal.

Inq laughed and threw her arms out. “Here we are!”

“Wait, I thought you said that you couldn’t buy them at the C&P?”

“I said you buy them from a wizard,” Inq said. “But the wizard happens to work at the C&P.”

Joy pushed open the door with its friendly two-tone hello. The smell was the same weird mix of air freshener and hot dogs. People milled about the aisles of snack bags and candy bars. Joy took a few steps inside and hugged her purse under her armpit. She was nervous about having so many humans as potential witnesses to Inq’s antics, and she still had no idea what was going on. The familiar and unfamiliar started square-dancing in her head.

Inq pretended to check out the covers of magazines while Joy debated snagging a fruit-and-nut bar to eat on her lunch break. At the café she could stave off the worst of her hypoglycemia by grabbing a roll here and there, but the carbs gave her a slow, weighty feeling that she never really enjoyed. Her lean, mean days of gymnastics training had given her a taste for chalky protein shakes, energy bars and aspartame.

“Watch,” Inq whispered to Joy as someone approached the counter. Joy’s stomach clenched. Mr. Vinh, the old proprietor, picked out the numbers on his cash register as he rang up a bag of nacho chips, a half liter of Coke, a pack of peanut M&M’s and a packet of gum. Mr. Vinh totaled the bill, and the customer paid cash. Before giving change, Mr. Vinh placed everything into a bag, including two small packets wrapped in leaves and tied with brown string. He hit Return on the register and counted out change, turning to address the next person in line. Joy kept her eyes on the young man who left—he looked Puerto Rican, but when he turned to shoulder the door, Joy saw that his throat was laced with pink gills and his feet in flip-flops had pale pink webs. The door closed behind him with its two-tone goodbye.

“You can’t be serious...” Joy whispered, disbelieving.

Inq smirked. “Meet Mr. Wizard.”

Joy shook her head. “It can’t be,” she said. “I’ve come here for years.”

“Of course you have,” Inq said, moving down the aisle. “But how often since your Sight’s been active? And did you buy any gum?”

“Gum?” Joy said, wondering when was the last time she’d chewed gum.

“It’s a code,” Inq said and waggled a slim red-and-black packet. “Nobody buys things like clove-flavored gum anymore. And buying certain snacks in combination is really a request for...other things.” Inq shrugged and pointed up. “Security cameras still work, so it’s important to keep up appearances. No one wants to run our supplier out of business. And, hey—” she waved a Kit Kat “—chocolate!” She winked. “Food of the gods.”

Joy stared as Inq stuffed a careful selection of things into her arms and pushed her forward. “Here,” she said impishly. “Go introduce yourself!”

Joy stared at her haul in dismay. She didn’t even like Gummi Worms...

Mr. Vinh glanced up at Joy as she spilled her armload onto the counter.

“Hello, busy girl,” he said in greeting.

“Hi, Mr. Vinh,” Joy whispered. He picked up the packet of spice-flavored gum.

“No sugarless mint?” he asked. It had been Joy’s favorite when she’d been in training, covering the sour smell of stomach acid in her mouth—the same sort of taste that was in her mouth now, all fear and nerves and reflux. She couldn’t believe that he remembered. “Maybe you want some wintergreen instead?”

Inq peeked over Joy’s shoulder. “How about a dermal, fourth-circle glamour with a subvocal charm?”

Mr. Vinh’s eyes lowered under his deep epicanthic folds, but he kept speaking to Joy as if he hadn’t heard Inq. “You are together?” he asked.

Joy nodded as Inq squeezed her shoulders. Mr. Vinh rang up the total for the lot.

“Eight dollars and seventeen cents,” he said. Joy handed over a crisp twenty. Mr. Vinh rubbed it between his fingers and held it up to the fluorescent light, all but rendered moot by the bright summer sun. Joy twisted her fingers. She felt like she was being carded. He finally nodded and made change, punching a number into the nearby phone. He spoke in rapid-fire something-ese, then hung up.

“My son will be here shortly,” he said. “Please wait over there.” He pointed to the lonely stack of morning papers in their thin wire display. Joy took her plastic bag, which sported a yellow smiley face and Have a Nice Day!, and stepped to the side. Inq grabbed a paper and flipped to the entertainment section.

“What are we doing?” Joy whispered as Inq turned pages.