details, but there weren’t many. The walls were painted white, and the carpet was pure, bright red over the polished floorboards. There seemed to be a whole lot of framed paintings on the walls, or maybe they were windows. I wasn’t sure, and I found I didn’t particularly care.
Finally, the corridor opened onto a magnificent hall. The dance was in full swing. A crowd of couples, all dressed in bright gowns and tuxedos, circled the floor to the music of a big band that filled the main stage to overflowing. Men in neat gray jackets sat behind their music stands. They played clarinets and trombones and cornets. There was a double bass and a steel guitar. But up in front of them all was the shining baby grand piano. The man at the piano had a round face, medium-brown skin, a mustache, and a receding hairline, and he smiled and waved his right hand in the air, marking time for the others as the music soared up sweet and clear.
At the far side of the hall stood a smaller, higher stage carpeted in black. At the top were two thrones carved of black wood or maybe black marble. In them sat a man and a woman.
My grandparents.
I knew who they were the second I saw them. But I was stunned by the notion that such swell people could be my flesh and blood. The woman was built full and strong. Her dress was black lace and jet beads, and the train spread out down the steps. Diamonds circled her neck and wrists, and more diamonds sparkled in the tiara that crowned her white hair. Half a dozen women in sparkling ball gowns lined the stage beside her, ladies-in- waiting.
The man was dressed in white tie like all the rest, but his gloves were dove gray and a black cloak lined with gray silk fell from his shoulders. His salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed close to his chin, and he wore a tall golden crown studded with diamonds and emeralds. He had an attendant too, a tall, slim man dressed like him, with gray gloves and a long cape. But that man had a gray sash across his chest, with a golden star shining right in the middle.
The man who’d led us in thumped his cane twice on the floor.
“Her Royal Highness, the princess Calliope LeRoux!”
The dancers stilled and turned and saw. They drew back, making an aisle from me to my grandparents.
“At last.” The woman on the throne held her hands out. “Oh, Calliope, at last!”
I walked forward. Maybe the turning-key feeling was in me, or maybe it was just the dizziness of my blood hammering in my ears, but the walls seemed to shift and lean back. All the dancing people bowed as I passed, but they never stopped swaying in time to the music that swelled until it filled the whole world.
I reached the foot of the Midnight Throne. The woman, the queen, my grandmother, stood slowly. I trembled as she looked down on me; there was so much strength in her. A Kansas twister could have come through the room right then, and she simply would have stared at it until it unwound from shame. She came down the steps to me. I didn’t dare move. Her hand slid under my chin, lifting it until I had to look her straight in the eyes. Those eyes were silver, gold, and midnight black. They were like the city at night-dark, light, beauty, sorrow, and danger all mixed up together. They were familiar too. I’d seen them before, but I couldn’t remember where.
“Yes,” whispered the queen. “I see her father in her.” She turned her eyes away from me, and I realized I’d been holding my breath.
From up on his throne, the king of the Midnight People smiled down at me. “Welcome, child,” said my grandfather. “Welcome home.”
23
The people in front of me were royalty. I took hold of my skirt and bent my knees, doing my best to imitate the curtsies I had seen in the movies. Behind me the dancers applauded politely, and I flushed.
“Now, granddaughter.” The queen, my grandmother, turned toward Jack. “Make this young man known to us.”
“This is Jack Holland, ma’am.” I grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him forward. He looked next to panicking, but I had no idea why. My anger was all gone. Nothing that had happened outside the gates seemed to matter now that I had been welcomed home. “He’s the reason I was able to make it this far. He saved my life a bunch of times.”
“Did he?” boomed Grandfather from his throne. “Then we are deeply in your debt, Jack Holland.” He inclined his head regally.
“Yes, indeed.” Grandmother grasped Jack’s hand and smiled down straight into his eyes. Immediately, a change came over Jack. The panic bled away, and he stood up straighter. He bowed low over my grandmother’s hand, and even clicked his heels like a foreign count in a dime novel. It should have looked dopey, but it didn’t. It looked… debonair. The swaying dancers applauded again. Grandmother’s smile went a little tight, and her eyes slid sideways to Grandfather. He nodded.
“We had help from Shimmy too,” I told them, and for a moment my rising happiness faltered. “She never let us down.”
“Shimmy?” repeated my grandmother.
“She means Shiraz,” said the thin man beside the throne. He trotted down the steps, coming close enough that I could see him clearly. Shock knocked my jaw loose.
“Shake!”
Shake bowed. Now I knew why my grandmother’s silver and gold eyes looked so familiar. I’d seen eyes like hers when Shake first looked at me, a thousand miles and a thousand years ago.
“Hello, Calliope. Welcome home.” Shake smiled his big white smile. “Perhaps I should introduce myself properly. I am Lorcan deMinuit, and I am your father’s brother.”
“You… you’re my uncle?”
Shake-Lorcan deMinuit-bowed again.
Anger tried to elbow its way past shock. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I apologize for that. But it is dangerous for our kind to go wearing our names openly in the world beyond. They can be turned against us, which is something you have yet to learn.” He said those last words as pleasant and polite as Sunday morning, but there was something in them that didn’t sit quite right.
“She… Shimmy told me you went on ahead…”
“I did, to make sure all was prepared for your arrival. Where is Shiraz… Shimmy?” Lorcan craned his neck to see between the dancers, as if Shimmy might have gotten lost on the way from the door.
Now I had proper hold of my anger, and it was fresh and piping hot. Why hadn’t he stayed with her, with us? We could have used his help. Maybe Shimmy would still be alive if we’d had some full-bore fairy magic when Bull Morgan set us in front of that rabbit drive.
“She’s dead,” I told him.
The music faltered, and the whole crowd gasped. Grandmother’s smile faded. Up on the throne, Grandfather said, “Tell us what happened.”
So I told them about how Shimmy had come to save us from the Trixies and Bull Morgan in the Bijoux, and about the long car ride and the motel, and about the rabbit drive. While I talked, I felt the anger rising in the room. It made the kind of heaviness in the air you feel when the weather’s changing. I glossed over Jack’s running out on us as best I could. This might have been my home and family, but there was danger here. I could feel it all across my skin, and despite everything, I didn’t want it aimed at Jack.
When I finished my story, Grandfather bowed his head. “Shiraz was truly one of the Midnight People. She shall be rewarded for the service she has rendered in bringing you home.”
I almost opened my mouth to ask how she could be rewarded for anything when she was dead. Then I remembered I was in a magic country now.
“Now, I know you have a thousand questions.” Grandmother squeezed my arm. “And they will all be answered, I promise. But tomorrow. Tonight we dance. When tomorrow comes, we will talk about your future.”
“Play on!” Grandfather raised his hand to the musicians. “We will dance! For Princess Calliope is returned to
