Seth's dream was not to be realized. He had tucked away a few dollars before coming on this adventure, but dollars were no good here, a long-nosed, auburn-haired waitress told him. They traded in "testoons" down here. The diner looked like any diner one would find at home, except the tables shimmered with a calming, watery-violet tone and the waitresses looked like they'd stepped out of a 1940s glamour magazine.
"Do they never leave here?" Isabella whispered. "We are still in L.A., aren't we?" She shook her head. Seth did not respond, instead salivating over the pecan pie on display. "You'd think they'd take both dollars and whatever the heck a testoon is," she said as she saw a man dropping several shiny, black coins into a small cup on his table.
It was the man they'd seen with the horse. He placed his bowler hat on top of his head and tapped it twice. He was mumbling to another waitress about being out late every night and keeping things in order.
The second waitress, this one with shiny, black hair and a tawny complexion, smiled at him. "Good luck out there and thanks for keeping our city safe for the 'Tide."
"You kids look lost. Is everything okay?" the man said as he passed them on his way out. He poked a long, black baton in their face. "The Shadows are watching, you know."
"We're fine," Isabella said, thrusting out her necklace instinctively.
"Young lady," he said, examining it authoritatively. "You're not to be here."
"What?" Isabella asked. Her eyebrows bunched together and she bit her lower lip. She knew he could have probably helped them, but she didn't go into hiding from the police so she could be taken into custody by someone else's cops.
"You should not be underground alone," he went on. "Or have they sent you on an errand?"
"Who? I mean, yes. They did. We're on an errand."
He looked at Seth. "Oh, yes. I see. You must be a new recruit. I won't say a word then. Very strange outfits they have you in. A bit cold for all that," he said. "Are you sure you're all right, deary?" he asked Isabella.
"Yes. I'm good."
"All righty. Have a good night, Dolores," he said to the waitress with the dark hair, who smacked her gum and winked.
"That guy was acting like he knew who you were and like he thought I was someone I am definitely not," Isabella said to Seth.
"I know. I just—"
"Wish you'd asked him for some of those black dimes or whatever they are so we could eat?"
"Oh, sorry, Seth! I wasn't paying attention."
"It's fine."
The auburn-haired waitress reappeared from the back of the diner. "All right, kids," she said, handing them two ill-fitting sweaters she'd retrieved from the café's lost and found. "No one's claimed these ones for a while now. You can have 'em," she said with a shrug.
"Thanks!" Isabella said brightly. She realized the waitress must have felt bad after seeing two kids waltz up to her diner with no money and wetsuits.
Seth made no remark as he slipped the Los Angeles Dodgers sweatshirt he'd been given over his head and frowned.
"It's Dodgers. I hate the Dodgers."
"Angels fan?" Isabella laughed, thinking he'd been about to complain that the sleeves stopped midway down his forearms.
"Yankees, duh," Seth said, then turned back to the waitress, who was pouring a man coffee and had forgotten all about them. "You'd think she could spare us a scrap of something. She gave us these."
"She'd probably get in trouble. Let's try to find Theophilus's shop. It might give us some clues."
Seth locked his jaw and looked as if he was trying very hard not to hurl a loogie at the waitress. "Fine."
They left the restaurant, passing clothing stores, candle stores, and a shop selling talismans and amulets. There was a pet shop and a bakery. An art-and-music shop called Oh My Muse, a clock shop named Good Timing. After several blocks, they spotted a large crowd along one of the footbridges. "It reminds me of Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica," Isabella noted.
"I want to see what's going on," said Seth.
Isabella did not. This place was weird enough already without adding strange sideshows to the mix.
"Watch me fly!" the goateed man in the center of the crowd announced. They wove their way to the front to find a man in a tuxedo and a silver tie.
"Just get on with it, Fox!" complained someone from the crowd.
Fox? Isabella gasped, thumbing the little fox engraved on her necklace, which since the encounter with the odd bird-hatted woman, hung free from inside her suit.
"Happy Wintertide, everyone! Now! Behold," said the man as he balanced himself for a moment with his arms extended, took two deep breaths and then levitated several feet off the ground. Gasps, then cheers, peppered the crowd.
Behold? Isabella had heard that someplace before. Ice chilled her veins. It had been in the room in the tunnels where the three dark figures spoke in hushed tones. She had the sudden urge to leave.
"These illusion weavers," a sallow-complexioned man with a gray beard standing next to Seth interrupted her thoughts. He looked to be about sixty years old and wore a bowler hat like the man they'd seen pulling the enormous black horse when they'd first arrived. He was with a round, sour-faced woman, who looked to be about the same age, and a tall younger man with wavy, golden hair, who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. These were likely his wife and son. "They break the law every time."
"What law are they breaking?" Seth asked, looking intrigued.
"You know!" He pounded his fist into his palm. "Empaths are not to weave upon each other underground unless explicitly under consult."
Isabella poised herself to turn away from the scene and pull Seth along with her until her mind held on a word the old man had used. "What do you mean 'weave'?"
The man's female companion chimed in, "Must be a debut."
"Or a spy," the man finished.
"We're not spies," Isabella insisted. She wouldn't be chased off by fear so quickly. One word didn't mean anything. Maybe this was her chance to figure out what was going on, to find Jack, who would surely help her, or even her Nano.
"Weaving is like manipulating the senses," the younger man said. His voice was deep and made Isabella tingle a little. "Wish-weaving, dream-weaving. This guy is illusion-weaving..."
"A form of mind-weaving," the woman added.
"So that we think we are seeing something that we're not. All illusionists do it," the young man went on. "Of course, we are allowed to weave the elements as long as no harm to the public occurs. But elemental weaving is not the easiest thing to do for most people. We mainly just use our intuition for guidance and understanding or for whatever work we do."
"Oh," said Isabella, noticing how crystal blue the young man's eyes were. "What kind of work do Empaths do?"
"Consults—like sages, wish-weavers, emotion coaches. Then there are the artists—bards, musicians, painters, writers. My dad is a Patrolman for the Shadows. That's why he called you a spy, but I know neither of you are."
"How do you know that?" Seth asked, sounding a little hostile, to Isabella's surprise.
The young man laughed. "He would have arrested you on the spot," he said and nodded toward his father, who'd refocused his eyes on the illusionist now spinning three large, silver rings in midair as he continued to float.
"Then why doesn't he arrest the illusion dude for mind-weaving?" asked Seth.
"Not in his domain," he explained. "Besides. It's like jaywalking in New York City. No one really cares. He's a street performer, and it's the solstice."
"What about you?" Isabella asked, half-watching the show, half-focusing on her new friend. "What do you do?"
"A little of this, a little of that." He shrugged.
"I'm Isabella, by the way. Isabella Foxworthy."
"Franklin. Franklin Vanderpole."
"Is that a fox you've got on your seal?" the old watchman asked, poking his finger at Isabella's chest. "I can't believe it took me this long to notice it."
"What's the big deal about it?"
"And you said your name is Foxworthy?" he pressed.
"Yes. So what?"
"Renee Fox. Lord and the Universe, rest her soul. She was a great woman. Her husband Sinclair was a great man. But Renee—she was the earth, the moon, and the sky to some of us down here."
"No, I'd say Sinclair was my favorite. Honest, loyal, always true," his wife added.
"Renee had talent."
"Sinclair wisdom," she finished. "My sister tells me they were lovely people."
"Your sister?" asked Isabella.
But her husband cut her off before she could answer. "They were such gems," he went on. "Very generous. Oh, yes, my dear. You are welcome at our home any time. We are in Cottage 1515, just west of Bridge K, off the Avenue."
His wife elbowed him. "Do not be so forward, Giles. And Franklin, please come by for dinner tonight. It is the solstice, and your aunt will be there." The woman reached up and pulled her son down for a hug, then pushed her husband through the crowd and disappeared.
Isabella laughed, suddenly relaxed, and Seth shrugged. "We are really meeting some interesting people today, aren't we?" she said to him. He did not seem impressed.
"I think this guy is pretty cool at least," Seth said, gesturing toward the illusionist. When Isabella looked around for Franklin once more, he was no longer there. It was as if he'd melted away. She'd definitely have to learn the art of disappearing without warning. It seemed like everyone here was an expert.
"Well, I don't think he's cool," said Isabella. "He's a little creepy if you ask me."
Seth shook his head. He obviously did not agree.
"You, girl!" the illusionist called out. "Come here," he said, floating low to where he just hovered above the brick of the bridge road. The crowd instinctively parted so that Isabella was in his line of sight. She froze. He could be him, the one from the tunnel. She looked to Seth, who wore a shocked expression, likely because they'd just been singled out. "You are special," the man continued. "A person of unique skill."
"You're not talking to me, are you?" Isabella asked.
"You are a diadem child, are you not?" he asked, landing fully onto the ground and moving toward her. She stepped back.
"No. What's that?" she asked as Seth grabbed her hand. She'd heard that word before though. Theophilus had called her that too.
"No need to be modest. And no need to be protective, young man. A guardian Empath. Hmm," he said to Seth. The crowd distanced themselves from Seth and Isabella at that moment. "Don't be afraid, dear spectators. Guardians are part fair folk, but they will not harm you. Will you, young sir?"
"Uh, no. I won't," Seth said.
"They are meant to protect their diadems," said the strange man.
"What are you talking about?" questioned Isabella.
The man named Fox turned to her. "Why don't I show you?" He bowed and then straightened, gesturing to Isabella to join him before the crowd. She pushed down any misgivings she might have of the man and followed the short path to him.
He smiled, eyes dazzling in an odd fashion. "Now," he said, "place these cards in your hands. Hold them up steady. And close your eyes. Think of your deepest desire simultaneously with your deepest fear."
She hesitated, shutting her eyes for a moment, then peeking out at the crowd. The path the crowd had created for her earlier had closed, and she could no longer see Seth. She tried not to panic and just play along. All the eyes she could see fastened upon her. She knew there was a power inside her that sat dormant over time, but lately, everything has been pushing her toward accepting and embracing these secrets. Isabella wondered if she was truly capable of this. She forgot all about being afraid of the man in front of her and focused on the satisfaction of her curiosity.
"Go on, child. Humor me. Just try it. Clear your mind and then slowly meld your deepest desire with your deepest fear. Concentrate."
Isabella clutched the cards, shut her eyes again, and focused on the first thing that came to her mind.
The hotel at its heyday, bustling with activity. Then Jack's face filled her mind. She was both frightened and elated. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as he told her he was the lost heir. He presented Catherine with a check and promised to take care of them both for all time. Then Catherine headed out the door, telling Isabella that she would be fine with Jack. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted them both. Then, flames erupted and she was back in the house where her parents had burned to death. Their screams tearing at her ears once more.
"Behold this diadem child's wonder!" she heard the illusionist bolster and snapped her eyes open. Where the cards once were grasped, balls of white flames jetted from her hands. "She is a child of light, this one. Pure light!"
Everyone gasped. "Make it stop!" Seth shouted. Then she saw him again, pushing through the crowd until he was finally at her side.
"She can do that on her own, young guardian," the Illusionist said to him. Seth didn't look convinced.
Isabella's heartbeat continued raging as she instinctively closed her palms over the flames, causing them to disappear instantly.
"She is a diadem child!" a man shouted from the crowd.
"But she's so young," a lady said, awe filling her voice.
"And she wears the symbol of the fox," a different man said.
"Yes," said the Illusionist wistfully, "she looks quite like Beatrice Foxworthy."
Silence enveloped the spectators as they stared at her. Isabella felt a sense of serenity that had never consumed her before. Confused and afraid at first, she began to accept the powers within, and smiled as the crowd looked on. She started to understand something, that the traits she'd so hated in herself growing up had been there for a reason, maybe this reason. She had power. She looked at Seth who looked more than freaked out and said, "We, uh, have an appointment. We're sorry." At that, Seth pulled her away from everyone. Cries for her to come back and perform again followed them as they disappeared down the bridge to a darker side of the street. The shops on this side of the road mirrored old Victorian London. She loved it, but she was still afraid. "It seems like a movie set."
"What were those people talking about, Iz? It seemed like they loved you and hated you at the same time. Like you were the freak and not them."
"He called you a guardian Empath. I wasn't the only one."
His jaw set, like he was replaying the words in his mind. Isabella couldn't really tell. "Did it hurt?" he asked suddenly.
"What? No. It didn't."
"I don't know about this, Iz. I just don't know."
"You don't know? I had fire coming from my hands a second ago!"
Just then, Isabella spotted a sign with the same set of goggles they'd seen on the poster in the alley; it was swinging above a store several yards ahead of them. "You think that's it?"
"Come on. Let's find out."
They approached the shop, but it was dark. They wrapped on the door, but no one answered. "Hello?" she called out. Seth stopped knocking and slumped against the door. She didn't want to give up. She looked around for another door, but she didn't see one. She peered into the dark window, but there was little to see. "It's dead inside," she said finally.
"What are we gonna do now?"
They looked up in the sky and saw a sparkling stream of writing curve into some words. Happy Solstice everyone, it said. Waves of those Shadow Patrol men poured down the street, blowing whistles. "Happy solstice; clear the streets," they repeated over and over, waving batons and hustling people off the streets. Soon, people disappeared down holes and the cars on the rails zipped by in larger numbers. A heavy set patrolman with a long nose stopped in front of them. "Get home to your families or your hosts, young people. You know the rules, off the streets until the fireworks at midnight."
"We don't have a host," said Seth, earning him a punch in the ribs from Isabella.
"You're not Skyside, are you? If so, you should be with a host or a guardian at all times. Did you get lost?"
"No. We're going to see our aunt and uncle" Isabella lied quickly. A name materialized in her mind. "The Vanderpoles."
The patrolman nodded. "Some of Franklin's friends, huh? All right, get going."
Isabella and Seth got up and began walking back toward the bridge where they'd met the Illusionist. "What was that address again?" muttered Seth. He looked over his shoulder. Isabella followed suit. The patrolman was still close to them.
"1515 something K," she said, feeling unnerved.
"Bridge K," the large patrolman spoke up. "Go left then right then up and over, you'll find it."
"Thank you!" Isabella said, relief in her voice. He wasn't going to arrest them or take them back home.
"Happy solstice, kids," he said, good naturedly and moved across the street toward a group of short people who were dressed a bit like Mimi had been. "Morphlings! You're already supposed to be on the other side of town! Get off with you before I file a report!"
Seth and Isabella shared looks. The Shadow patrolman's voice had gotten rather harsh with the morphling bunch. It didn't look like they'd done anything wrong either. "So, I guess we need to find the Vanderpoles, so we can stay out of trouble," said Isabella.
"I kind of don't want to," said Seth.
"Maybe we can ask them for help or some clues. They seemed to know a lot about my family. And they did invite us," she said. "It's their Christmas, I think. And actually, I wouldn't mind relaxing and trying to feel normal."
"Normal? Here?"
"Maybe this is my kind of normal."
Seth grumbled then seemed to have a sudden realization. "Hold up! What was I thinking? They'll probably have food. Yes! Let's go now."
As they began to walk and the crowd grew thinner and thinner, Isabella heard a voice, you're so close to me, so close.
She took Seth's hand. He looked at her a bit surprised. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I just don't want to get separated."
"Uh, okay. Sure," he said, pulling her toward the bridge where she hoped they'd find the Vanderpole family and, eventually, a turn of their luck.