It was true. The crowd was turning ugly—a lot of it was fake ugly, but Butler’s
keen eye spotted scores of wrestling fans in the front rows who looked ready to
storm the ring.
I need to make a statement, he thought. Show these people who’s boss.
“Outside the ring, Jules. Right now.”
Juliet did what she was told without complaint. Butler had that look on his
face. The last time she had seen that look, her brother had punched his way
through the hull of a Somali pirate’s stolen yacht, sinking the vessel in the Gulf of
Aden.
“Don’t hurt Samsonetta,” she ordered. “We’re friends.”
Butler shook his head in disapproval. “Friends? I knew you two were faking.”
Samsonetta and the ninjas were busy throwing shapes in the far corner of the
ring. They stamped, punched, and threatened without actually attacking.
When Juliet was safely outside the ropes, Butler turned to his own corner and
threw his shoulder into the pad covering the post. The impact rattled the post in
its housing.
“Crazy Bear really is crazy,” crowed Max. “He’s beating up the ring. Are you
going to stand for that, ninjas? This man is defiling the very symbol of our
sporting heritage.”
Apparently the Ninja Squad was prepared to accept a little defiling of their
symbol if it meant not being attacked by the man mountain who had taken their
pyramid apart with no more effort than a child knocking down a house of cards.
Butler hit the post again, this time smashing it right out of its socket. He
hefted the metal pole, stepped underneath the ropes, and began to twist the ring
in on itself.
This move was so unprecedented that it was several seconds before anyone
could appreciate what they were seeing. In years to come the maneuver would
become known as the wringer and would elevate the real Crazy Bear, who was
passed out drunk in the back alley, to the status of luchador superstar.
Even Max Schetlin’s tirade dried up as his brain tried to process what was
actually going on.
Butler took advantage of the stunned stillness to quickly spin the corner post
half a dozen times, popping another two supports from their housings.
This is not as difficult as it looks, mused Butler, catching sight of himself on
the giant screen. This entire ring is little more than an inverted tent. A well-fed
teenager could pull it down.
He gathered the three posts in his arms, twirling them deftly, drawing the ring
tighter and tighter.
A couple of the ninjas had enough presence of mind to skip out while they
could, but most stood slack-jawed, and a couple who believed themselves to be
dreaming sat down and closed their eyes.
Butler nodded at Samsonetta. “Out you go, miss.”
Samsonetta actually curtsied, which was totally out of character, and ducked
under the rope, along with one ninja who was sharp enough to recognize a
reprieve when he saw one. The rest of the crew was pressed closer together as
Butler wound the rope tight. Every twist brought groans from the coils of old rope
and from the people trapped inside. The crowd was beginning to realize what was
happening, and they began to cheer with every twist. Several were gleefully
calling for Butler to squeeze the air from the ninjas’ lungs, but the bodyguard was
content merely to crush them together like passengers on the London Tube at
rush hour. And once they were powerless to move, he shuffled them to the side
of the ring and planted the pole back in its housing.
“I’m going now,” he said. “And I advise you all to stay put until I am out of the
country, at the very least, because if you don’t, I will be very unhappy.”
Butler did not have the magical power of the mesmer, but his voice was
extremely persuasive nevertheless.
“Okay, Bear, take it easy,” said the only ninja sporting a white head scarf,
possibly the leader. “You’re straying way off script. Max is going to go nuts.”
“You let me worry about Max,” Butler advised. “You worry about me worrying
about you.”
The ninja’s frown was obvious through the folds of his scarf. “What? Who
should I worry about?”
Butler ground his teeth. Dialoguing was not as easy as the movies would have
a person believe.
“Just don’t move until I’m gone. Got it?”
“Yep. You should have said that.”
“I know.”
From a bodyguard’s perspective, there were so many things wrong with this
situation that Butler almost despaired. He turned to his sister.
“Enough of this. I have to go somewhere and think. Somewhere with no
Lycra.”
“Okay, Dom. Follow me.”
Butler stepped down from the platform. “If you could stop bandying my name
about. It’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Not from me. I’m your sister.”
“That may be. But there are thousands of people here, and half as many
cameras.”
“It’s not as if I said the whole name. It’s not as if I said Dom-o—”
“Don’t!” warned Butler. “I mean it.”
The stage door was a mere twenty yards away, and the familiar rhythms of
family bickering warmed Butler’s heart.
I think we’re going to make it, he thought in a rare moment of optimism.
Which was when the picture on the big screen was replaced by a giant pair of
glowing red eyes. And although red eyes are usually associated with nasty things
like vampires, chlorine burn, and conjunctivitis, these particular red eyes seemed
friendly and infinitely trustworthy. In fact, anyone who gazed into the fluid
swirling depths of these eyes felt that all their problems were about to be solved,
if they just did what the owner of those eyes told them to do.
Butler inadvertently caught sight of the eyes in his peripheral vision but
quickly tucked his head low.
Fairy magic, he realized. This entire crowd is about to be mesmerized.
“Look into my eyes,” said a voice from every speaker in the room. The voice
even managed to invade the cameras and phones of the audience.
“Wow,” said Juliet in a monotone that did not suit the word. “I really need to
look into those eyes.”
Juliet might have been reluctant to do what the silky voice commanded if she’d
had any memory of her dealings with the Fairy People. Unfortunately, those
memories had been wiped from her mind.
“Block the exits,” urged the voice. “Block all the exits. Use your bodies.”
Juliet whipped off her mask, which was impeding her view of the screen.
“Brother, we need to block the exits with our bodies.”
Butler wondered how things could get much worse as hundreds of enraptured
wrestling fans surged down the aisles to physically block the entrances and exits.
Block the exits with your bodies? This fairy is pretty specific.
Butler had no doubt that another command was forthcoming, and he doubted
it would be Now join hands and sing sea shanties. No, he was certain that nothing
benign would issue from that screen.
“Now kill the bear and the princess,” said the layered voice, a few of the layers
taking a moment to catch up, lending a sibilant sssss to princess. Kill the bear
and the princess. Charming.
Butler noticed a glint of dark intent in his sister’s eyes as she realized that he
was the bear. What would she do, he wondered, when she tumbled to the fact
that she was the princess?
It doesn’t matter, he realized. We could both be dead long before that
happens.
“Kill the bear and the princess,” droned Juliet in perfect unison with the
mesmerized crowd.
“And take your time about it,” continued the magical voice, now infused with a
merry note. “Drag it out a little. As you humans say: no pain no gain.”
A comedian, thought Butler. It’s not Opal Koboi, then.
“Gotta kill you, brother,” said Juliet. “I’m sorry. Truly.”
Not likely, thought Butler. On a good day, if he was drugged and blindfolded,
maybe Juliet could have inflicted a little damage, but in his experience the
mesmer made people slow and stupid. A large part of their brains were switched
off, and the parts left awake were not going to be winning any Nobel prizes.
Juliet tried a spinning kick but ended up twirling off balance and into Butler’s
arms. Annoyingly, her jade ring spun around and clattered him on the ear. Even
mesmerized, my sister is irritating.
Butler hefted Juliet easily, then tensed his muscles for flight.
“Kill you,” muttered his sister. “Sorry. Gotta.” Then: “Fairies? You kidding
me?”
Was she remembering the Fowl Manor siege? Butler wondered. Had the
mesmer accidentally triggered recall?
He could investigate later, if there were a later for them. Butler had
considerable faith in his own ability, but he doubted that he could take on a
theater full of zombies, even if they weren’t fleet of foot.
“Go to work, my human lackeys,” said the voice that went along with the red
eyes. “Dig deep into the darkest recesses of your brains, such as they are. Leave
no evidence for the authorities.”
Leave no evidence? What are they supposed to do with the evidence?
That question really didn’t bear thinking about.
Bear? Ha-ha-ha, thought Butler, and then: Jokes? I have time for jokes? Is it
possible that I am frazzled? Pull it together, man. You’ve been through worse.
Although, looking at the dozens of stiff-limbed instapsychos lumbering down
from the upper levels, Butler could not for the life of him remember when.
A pudgy forty-something man sporting an Undertaker T-shirt and a beer hat
pointed at Butler from the aisle.
“Beaaaar!” he yowled. “Beaaaaar and princess!”
Butler borrowed a word from the fairy lexicon.
“D’Arvit,” he said.
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