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  For Danette, who I love with all my heart and who always tells me I’m a genius, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

  I.

  1.

  THAT HOT DOG SMELL. Lem said we could have hot dogs for lunch, but Lem said that before and we didn’t. Lem is cranky. I don’t know why. He’s not Hiram cranky, but no one is Hiram cranky but Hiram. Lem is Lem Cranky, which isn’t screamy cranky, but glum cranky. I actually prefer Hiram Cranky, because with Hiram you at least know why he’s mad.

  Exhaust and sweat, even though it’s cold. Everybody is always rushing, but people get out of my way. Lem says it’s because I’m big. I am big. Or things are small. Like toilet stalls. Too small. I get in, I can’t turn around. Took me a long time to remember to back in sometimes.

  Lem buys the hot dogs.

  He doesn’t get any. He just stands there smoking a cigarette and scowling. I don’t ask what’s wrong. Lem never tells me.

  I am working on a spell. Lem doesn’t know about it. Lem always tells me not to try to cast. Lem doesn’t think I’m very good. It’s true, a lot of my spells collapse. It’s hard. You forget a Word, your spell collapses, a hot wind and maybe a spark of flame. You get an itch in your throat, the spell collapses. You mix up two Words, collapses. I once singed off all my eyebrows when I forgot how to end a spell. Lem drew some on with a marker. That was pretty smart.

  The spell is for Lem. For his birthday. I don’t know when his birthday is, but I have known Lem for a long time, so he must have had birthdays. At least one. So he didn’t get anything for his birthday, no cake or presents. When I was little, I got a kitten. Not on my birthday, but I got one, and I decided it was a birthday present. No one else knew about the kitten. He lived outside, in an old shed. He was black and white and had a pink nose and I fed him and he would come out for me and rub against me and purr. I named him Mike. Mike stayed with me for a long time, and then one day Mike was gone and he never came back and that was sad.

  I figure someday I will see Mike again, and I hope he recognizes me, though I am much bigger than I used to be.

  For Lem I want to make a spell because Lem doesn’t think I can, and because it will make him happy. I don’t learn very fast. Or very well. And it makes Lem cranky. So I want to make a spell so he’ll be happy. No one would help me at Rue’s, so I had to come up with the spell on my own. I asked a lot of people, but they all said no, they wouldn’t help me. That’s okay. We’re still friends.

  I look at my empty hands and I look at Lem.

  He is smoking a cigarette and he is agitated. He looks at me. “Oh, fine. One more.” He nods at the man behind the cart, and I shift my weight from foot to foot.

  I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. Lem says it’s because I am all stomach. I’m going to make this hot dog last, so I use the trick that Ketterly taught me and I have the Hot Dog Man put everything on the hot dog. Relish. Onions. Mustard. Ketchup. Ketterly called it the Maxi Dog. I hold it in my hand, warm and dripping, and I don’t take a bite right away. I want to make it last.

  Lem is cranky, I remember, because he says an Archmage is angry with him. When I asked him who because we don’t know any Archmages, he said that guy from that place, you remember, don’t you, Mags? And so I said yes, I remember, even though I don’t because it makes Lem even more cranky when I can’t remember things. But that was a mistake, I think, because now I don’t know why the Archmage is angry with Lem and I can’t ask because then he’ll know I was lying.

  The hot dog is gone. I don’t remember eating it. I wonder if Lem will get me one more. I’m afraid to ask. Because Lem is cranky.

  THE SMELL OF DUST. The old building isn’t a real building. Only Tricksters live here. The only power comes from extension cords running to the building next door. We have magicked them so no one will notice them. Only some of the rooms have windows left. Lem and I don’t live in one of those rooms. We live in one of the rooms with no windows, so it’s cold and damp all the time. Lem calls it The Commune.

  I sit down on the floor and work on my spell. It’s slow going because I have to remember it all the time, and sometimes I forget where I left off. Lem says tomorrow we have to go out and grift or we’ll starve. That makes me hungry again. When it gets dark, I bleed a little to light the place up. Light spells are easy. You can even just use one Word, but if you do that, it’s too bright. Like being inside the sun.

  “This fucking maniac,” Lem says suddenly. “This is goddamn intolerable. Every day and every night, hiding in here.” He reaches into his pocket and takes out the astronaut and plays with it in his hand. Mr. Fallon gave Lem the astronaut. Lem says as long as he has it, no one can see him. But I see him just fine. So I don’t get it.

  He shoves the astronaut, who is very small, back into his pocket. “C’mon, Magsie. We’re going to Rue’s.”

  CIGARETTE SMOKE AND SOMETHING ELSE. I love Rue’s. It’s always warm and noisy. You can’t feel lonely in Rue’s. Everyone is supernice. These are our friends.

  You have to be a Trickster to be in Rue’s. Or you have to be ustari. I’m ustari, a mage, even though Hiram used to say I wasn’t. But I’m in Rue’s, so I must be. And I can cast spells when I can remember them.

  Lem buys me a pop and sits me at the bar with a bowl of pretzels and tells me he has to go talk to Neilsson so I should stay out of trouble. I am always in trouble. Once I got lost for two whole days because I got on the wrong bus and it took me two whole days to find my way back and Lem was so angry at me I cried, and then he wasn’t angry at me anymore, but I couldn’t stop crying.

  The soda’s good but not my favorite. The pretzels are stale but I eat all of them and try to convince Sheila to give me another bowl. Lem is always telling me to eat when I can. You’re a big boy, Magsie, he says, so learn to eat when you can. Sheila says sure, but then she goes to pour drinks and she forgets and the bowl never comes.

  “Pitr fucking Mags!”

  I turn and it’s Sibri. I like Sibri. I like the way she smells. She smells like chocolate, but sort of a burnt chocolate. I like her hair, which is an explosion of dark curls that seems to move on its own. I like her voice, which is deep. I like how she is always inviting me to things. No one else asks me to help them, except Lem.

  “How are you, Sibri?”

  She smiles. I like her smile, too, because her teeth are superwhite.

  “I am fine, Mr. Mags. How you do? Listen, big boy, I got something cookin’, could use a big fella like you. You big, yes! I need a big man.”

  I’m excited. Everyone at Rue’s is always making plans. Everyone is making money, having capers. I was never in a caper. Lem said Sibri pulled Lonelyhearts Scams. I asked him what that meant, and he said she and her friends went on dates and cast Charms on the men and took everything they owned. He said it was lucrative if you looked like Sibri. But only Sibri looked like Sibri, so I didn’t understand.

  “Get my big friend a beer, Sheila,” Sibri says. “He look thirsty.” She smiles at me, then frowns, her face turning dark, like a storm. “Vonnegan,” she says. Vonna-gun. “You looking sour as usual.”

  “Leave Mags alone, Sibs,” Lem says, picking up the beer Sheila had poured and taking a deep sip. “He’s not a fucking Bleeder, okay?”

  Sibri shrugs. “Why not, Vonnegan? He a big boy. Pl
enty of gas to go around. I was gonna pay him, that what you’re thinking.”

  Lem shakes his head. “He’s not a goddamn Bleeder. We don’t bleed other people. We don’t bleed for other people. Fuck off.” He toasts her with the beer. “This is on you, though,” he says, handing me the glass.

  Sibri shakes her head and waves at us. “Bye-bye, then. Mr. Mags, someday you gonna realize your friend here is holdin’ you back.”

  I watch her walk away and then look at Lem. He seems crankier. I try to think what I might have done. I didn’t like it when Lem was angry at me.

  “Aw,” I say, “I wanted to work with her!” I never had my own money.

  “Magsie, she was just looking for a free Bleeder. She would have left you half-dead and given you twenty bucks for your trouble.”

  “Twenty dollars!”

  Lem smiles. It’s nice to see him smile, even if he’d just ruined our finances. “Come on. Neilsson spotted us twenty for some work I’m gonna help him with tomorrow. You want a slice of pizza?”

  COLD AIR. NO SMELL. The street is empty because it’s late, but Lem says he knows a place still open where we can get a drink. This is so much fun. Usually Lem is serious. Like, superserious. But he says Neilsson has a real estate scam set up and needs us to cast some Charms for crowd control. I don’t quite get it, but Lem says we’ll get another twenty dollars each when it’s done. We’re rich. And Lem isn’t cranky anymore.

  “We gotta build on this, Magsie,” he says. “It’s not a lot, but we can use it as seed for something of our own. Start packing away a few bucks.”

  “I thought you were working for Mr. Fallon.”

  Lem clucks his tongue. I know it means I’ve said something stupid.

  “I’m thinking about it, Mags. I’m not urtuku for the first time in years, man. I’m no one’s apprentice. I don’t have that fat old man’s fishhook in my head, and I’m kind of enjoying it. I’m not sure I want to rush into getting another gasam.”

  I was never sure if I was Lem’s gasam or if he was mine.

  The smell of car exhaust. A big black car with a lot of doors is coming toward us. And then blood—gas—is in the air. It always makes me nervous.

  “Lem,” I say. “There’s—”

  A lot happens really fast. The car stops. The doors open. A big fat guy steps out, and the gas gets stronger. He has blood dripping off his fingers, a steady flow. A woman gets out of the front door. She’s beautiful: dark skin, shining black hair, something glittery in her nose. She is wrapped up like a present in silk, all kinds of colors. I don’t know how it stays on her. There’s no belt or anything.

  “Lemuel Vonnegan,” she says. “Mycroft Pell says hello.”

  “Lem!” I yell.

  Lem has his switchblade out. I run at them. She’s the mage. He’s the Bleeder. If I can knock her on her ass before she can cast—but she doesn’t even look at me. She holds up her hand and says something I can’t hear. And something like a bowling ball hits me in the stomach and I sail backward. I hit the sidewalk and bounce. And then I’m on the ground and I can’t breathe. I roll over onto my hands and knees and open my mouth, but I can’t get my lungs to work. I start to see red around the edges of my vision. I punch the sidewalk, spit drooling from my open mouth.

  Slowly, a pinprick opens up in my chest and some air gets in. I look up. The car is gone. Lem is gone.

  2.

  THE DOOR OPENS. Mr. Volker is a little taller than me. That’s unusual. He’s tall and skinny, stooped over in a black turtleneck. His hair is yellow-white and is all uneven. He’s got dandruff all over his shirt.

  He sniffs the air. “Idimustari. I know you. We have met before.”

  Two black cats twist around his ankles. They make cute mewling noises. I look down at them and they both pause and spit at me, then keep rubbing against him. I look back at the man. I don’t remember him. But I nod. “Yes. I need help.”

  No one at Rue’s would help me. Except Ketterly. Ketterly didn’t do anything. But he told me to come to this address and get Volker to help me. The guy with the cats, Ketterly said. You remember, Pete. But I don’t remember. Maybe I remember. Me and Lem were here once.

  He nods, but he doesn’t move. His house smells bad. The cats, I think.

  “Please, Mr. Volker. Lem’s my only friend, and I’ve lost him. I don’t know what to do. Mr. Ketterly sent me.”

  He sniffs the air again. “Ack. Ketterly.” He snorts and turns around. “Come in.”

  I squeeze through the door and I keep squeezing. The hallway is piled high with boxes and newspapers and I barely fit. I am crushed. My shoulders scrape along the paper and cardboard. Cats are everywhere, and I keep stepping on tails and they keep scratching my legs. My eyes are red and my head aches because I blubbered. That’s what Hiram always called it. But I lost Lem, and I didn’t know what else to do.

  I follow him to the kitchen. A huge cat is on the counter. It’s bigger than any cat I’ve ever seen. It stares at me, calm, steady. Like it’s thinking. Like it’s smart. There’s a path between the piles of stuff to the counter, and Volker leans with his back against it and the cat jumps up onto his shoulder and drapes itself around his neck. It starts licking his neck.

  I want to leave. But I need help finding Lem.

  “You have lost your friend,” Volker says. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Lem got snatched. A man. Two men! In a car. Outside Rue’s.”

  One of Volker’s snow-white eyebrows goes up. “Rue’s?”

  “The bar.”

  Volker slowly shakes his head.

  “I . . . the . . .” I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. My hands are fists. I want to knock everything over. I want to make some space. “He got taken. In the street. Two men. A car.”

  Volker nods. The cat licks his neck. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Volker nods. “What kind of car?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t remember.” I can feel tears in my eyes. I won’t blubber. Not in front of Volker. I won’t.

  “Did they say anything?”

  “I can’t remember!”

  The knuckles on my hands make popping noises.

  Volker nods. The cat leaps down onto the floor. It walks over and sits down in front of me, staring up at me with old eyes.

  “Then we’ve got to help you remember, huh? I remember you, kid.” He touches his head. “Not too bright. Okay, we can help with that. You got any money? We’re gonna need a Bleeder.”

  I shake my head. “Lem says no Bleeders. We don’t bleed other people.”

  Volker shrugs. “You cannot bleed for this. You would not have energy left to do much else. You might possibly even die.” He gestures at the cat. “And I cannot supply enough blood via my usual methods. You must bleed someone for this.”

  I shake my head. “Lem says no Bleeders.”

  “Lem is not here. Is that not the point?”

  I can’t think. I’m not good at it. Lem does the thinking for us, and he’s good at it. I want to jump on Volker and make him help me. “I don’t know.”

  Volker nods. “Pay for a Bleeder, I will cast, and then you will know.”

  “BE READY.”

  Volker’s basement is scary. All basements are scary, but Volker’s is worse. It’s dark. And wet. And there are cats everywhere. They all stare at me. Cats are supposed to be cute. They purr. And play with your shoelaces. But Volker’s cats look mean.

  The old man is standing in a metal washtub. I had fifty dollars from Ketterly, and Volker turned fifty dollars into an old man. The old man doesn’t have any teeth and he smells bad, but not as bad as Volker’s whole house. The old man has a lot of scars. He’s bled before. He has white hair like Volker, but it’s shorter. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and a heavy overcoat with the arms rolled up, his forearms a map of pink and whi
te lines, and he does whatever Volker says even though Volker hasn’t cast anything on him.

  I’m standing across from him. I want Volker to go faster. Lem has been gone . . . I don’t know for how long. He’s just gone.

  The old man holds out his arm. Volker has a homemade razor on a toothbrush. He reaches out, smiles at the old man, and slices the white skin of his arm, deep. Blood wells up. I can sense it from across the room. The man is old, but his blood is pure energy, filling the room with power. I close my eyes. If Lem asks me if I saw Volker bleed the old man, I can say no.

  “This spell is an experiment,” Volker says.

  I frown.

  “I am uncertain of the consequences, Mr. Mageshkumar. You are breaking new ground!”

  Volker speaks his spell.

  I can’t follow. I never can. Lem can hear a spell once and he knows it, but the Words just slip off my brain, get muddled and mixed up. Sometimes when I try to cast my own stuff, I get the Words mixed up and weird things happen.

  I don’t feel anything. Volker said I would be able to find Lem when he cast his spell. He tried telling me what it would do, but I didn’t really follow. I catch a Word here and there, but I don’t know them all. I open one eye a little. The old man is shivering, and Volker stands in front of him with his arms held up, the bloody blade in one hand. The cats are all standing around, perfectly still, staring at Volker and the old man. And—

  And—

  Volker speaks a Word I know. Taltal. Wisdom.

  For a second everything hits pause. The air goes still. The old man stops shivering. I can see every little thing. Dust in the air. A droplet of blood halfway to the floor. The hairs on the back of Volker’s hand. There’s an ache in my head. It’s suddenly there. Like someone opened me up and stuffed a rock in there.

  Everything rushes back into motion, and I’m on my knees. Rushing rushing rushing, and I can’t keep up, everything on fast-forward and the rock in my head getting larger, and I push my head down into the concrete floor trying to squeeze it out and the rushing rushing rushing continues and I can’t stop stop stop it.