Page 52 of Search for the Lost

Ah, Vexhall—now Leo remembered. It resembled Vegas, only weirder. He’d sort of liked it there, at least until he almost got poisoned. He gave Crispin a gentle poke. “So where is she, then?”

“Her alone place.”

Before Leo could request more specifics, Aspin huffed. “She doesn’t have an alone place.”

“She does. Yes, we all know she likes to be adored and loves a spectacle. But now and then, she simply wants to be left to herself for a little while.” Crispin gave a small smile as if remembering something good, and turned to Leo. “I found out about it by accident years ago. I can tell you about it while we travel, if you want.”

Leo very much did want—it would give him another clue about the relationship between his beloved and his beloved’s mother, which he’d already figured out was pretty complicated. “Sounds good. Do we need any special clothing or stuff for where we’re going?”

“No. Just a bit of fortitude.”

Aspin didn’t seem at all pleased about that, but although he made a sour face, he kept his mouth shut. Which was a true achievement for him.

They didn’t leave right that very minute. For one thing, Aspin put up a small fuss about not knowing who’d won the current episode of Drag Race. He seemed hopeful for a repeat visit from Miss Vexx.

Then Minkis ran outside and came back a few minutes later, cheeks stuffed with acorns, while Mom II packed a big Ziploc full of chocolate chip cookies. She put that into a backpack—the exact brand and color that Leo had owned in third grade—along with some peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, some string cheese, and a trio of apples. “In case you get hungry,” she explained with a sniffle.

Leo was sniffling too. “Mom….” He gave a little moan, unable to find words for his swirling emotions.

She shoved the backpack into his arms and gave his hair a tweak, just like she always had right before he set off for school. “You’ll do great,” she assured him. “You’ll learn a lot and have fun, and when you’re done you’ll return home nice and safe.” The familiar words were like a prayer or enchantment; they’d always helped him face the day more confidently.

“But you, you’ll….” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I’ll have finished my job, the best role I could ever have dreamed of. It’s been an honor. And Leopold, I’m so very, very proud of you.”

He didn’t cry. Much. And the runny nose was totally from allergies.

Crispin had been consulting with Thea. When he was sure that Leo was ready to go, Crispin gathered all of them in the living room. He and Aspin both thanked Mom II and kissed her cheek. Minkis climbed onto Crispin’s shoulder.

“Okay, Thea,” Crispin said. “Let’s go.”

It wasn’t as easy as walking out the door and catching a bus, because of course not. In fact, initiating the journey involved a lot of steps that Leo was fairly certain were absolutely unnecessary, added by Thea simply to amuse herself. But since Leo was amused by some of them too, especially the one where Aspin had to hop on one foot while ad-libbing an ode to Crispin’s best characteristics, Leo didn’t complain.

In the end, Leo, Crispin, and Aspin sat cross-legged on the living room floor, their knees touching and hands clasped, while Minkis perched on Crispin’s head and chattered a spell in what was apparently Late Medieval Squirrelese. A small hand mirror lay on the carpet in front of them. Smiling—but maybe also looking a little relieved they’d finally be leaving—Mom II blew Leo a final kiss.

The air went instantly opaque, worse even than the thickest tule fog that Leo had seen when living in California’s Central Valley. The mist was so heavy that he couldn’t see Aspin and Crispin, couldn’t see beyond the tip of his own nose. And it smelled unpleasantly like his junior high school locker room.

Then, just as suddenly, the air cleared and they were seated on a vast floor of white-and-black-checkered marble. The plain white walls were a vast distance away, while the soaring ceiling was ridged and dark brown. There was nobody else visible in the place, but there were several dozen brown mounds, each about the size of a tiny sports car and perched on a set of rails, as if they were very weird train cars. The air smelled deliciously of chocolate.

Aspin groaned loudly as soon as he saw where they were. “Oh no, this isn’t fair.”

“I told you it would be a long journey.” Crispin released Leo’s and Aspin’s hands, stood gracefully, and brushed nonexistent dirt from his trousers. He started walking briskly toward the nearest mound. Leo scrambled to his feet to follow, and Aspin came along too, but more slowly, like a kid grudgingly trudging to the dentist.

“But I assumed we’d have adequate transportation,” Aspin groused. “Fine steeds, perhaps. Or flying carpets. A carriage pulled by a team of Akzathian mountain basilisks.”

Crispin didn’t bother to look at him. “Akzathian mountain basilisks are an endangered species. Bidulla told me months ago”—his mouth twisted up—“before all the unpleasantness, that we might have to collect a pair soon, for OotL. I was hoping that assignment would be mine.”

“Well, they could bloody well pull a carriage for us first.”

By now they’d reached the mound. It was glossy, with some irregular lumps on the sides and a raised brown swirl on the top. It looked, in fact, like an enormous chocolate candy—the type that come in fancy boxes, and you never know until you bite into it whether you’ll get something delicious inside, like caramel, or whether it contains an abomination such as that fluffy white stuff with walnuts. But when Crispin lightly tapped the top, it swung open to reveal a center that contained four red-upholstered seats, all facing a small round table.

“What is this thing?” Leo peered inside.

“A bahn-bahn, of course,” Crispin replied as he climbed inside. “This is the Central Bahn-Bahnhof.”

Aspin snorted unhappily but climbed in, and then Leo did as well. The seats weren’t as comfy as an armchair or his beloved old couch, but they weren’t bad.

As soon as they were settled, the lid folded impossibly thin before sliding into a recess. “We can put it back up if the weather’s bad,” Crispin informed him. “But I thought you’d rather see the scenery better.”