The Invitation (10 page)

I
T HAD HAPPENED AGAIN.
One minute Tim was squeezed into an airplane seat with a ginger ale on his tray table, and the next minute he was…where? He looked around. Some pretty, misty countryside that looked bucolic. Dr. Occult stood nearby, watching Yo-yo circling overhead.

He wished they'd quit doing that to him. This unconventional travel threw him off his game. Tim wondered if he had broken the sound barrier or the speed of light with all this hopping about. His molecules had to be scrambled by now.

Was this Fairyland? He scanned the landscape. It just looked like a prettier part of England than he was used to. The large telegraph towers dotting the horizon confirmed that he was still in the so-called “real” world. Unless fairies communicated via telegraph or cable lines.
Constantine must have been kidding about Fairyland, Tim decided. He was a joker, Tim knew, even if he didn't always get the joke.

“Where's Constantine?” he asked.

“With the others,” Dr. Occult answered.

“Which is where?” Tim asked.

“Not our concern, at the moment,” Dr. Occult answered. “Come, we are near our destination.”

Tim followed Dr. Occult along a winding country road. The damp day had left the path soggy and muddy, and the grass smelled wet and green. Nearby, a trickling stream meandered through the hilly banks. Yo-yo's attention was diverted by rabbits, or birds, or insects going about their business and oblivious to the strange trio journeying through their territory.

This isn't so bad
, Tim thought, gazing around at the peaceful greens of trees, shrubs, and grass. If he could just get used to the shock of being transported suddenly from one place to another, he'd be fine.
Star Trek
had nothing on this! Tim's shoulders dropped; he hadn't realized they'd been hunched up near his ears. Fear still lurked inside him, but he was finally relaxing into the adventure, starting to feel as if this could be his world, his life.
Maybe I'm not crazy
, he thought, reaching for a tree branch and shaking down some
dew-flecked leaves. As whacked as it was, somehow this kind of living made more sense than things did back in London.

“So are you a real doctor?” Tim asked his companion.

“Am I a real doctor of what?”

Tim shrugged. “I don't know. What kind of things can you be a doctor of?”

“I'm not a medical doctor, if that's what you mean. Although I can set a bone or stanch the flow of blood if need be.”

“Dr. Occult,” Tim pronounced. He shook his head. “It's a funny name.”

“Name?” Dr. Occult raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling, so Tim realized his error.

“Thing to be called, then,” Tim corrected himself.

“We must wait here.”

They were beside a large apple tree, each branch drooping under the weight of the bountiful fruit. A low fence separated the fields, and, all around them, as far as Tim could see, there was open pasture. Off in the distance he spotted woods, and beyond that, hills.

“Wait for what?” Tim asked. A fairy escort?

“For the sun to set. We must leave in twilight.”

The sun was low on the horizon, so Tim
figured they didn't have too long a wait. Yo-yo settled onto a nearby branch. Tim plucked an apple that dangled in front of him.

He looked at Dr. Occult, feeling more at ease with him than he did with the others, despite Dr. Occult's formal attitude. Tim liked John the best, but he wasn't exactly a comforting presence. With John, he felt constantly on high alert; it was exciting but exhausting.

“Will you tell me something?” Tim asked.

“Possibly.”

Tim snorted.
Never can get an easy yes or no from these guys
. He took a bite of the apple. “You four,” he said, chewing. “Who are you? I mean, Constantine. He's just a bloke, isn't he?”

Dr. Occult gazed off into the distance, as if trying to decide how to answer—or whether to answer at all. “John Constantine,” Dr. Occult said. “Yes. He has seen a great deal, and now he dances on the edge of the known like a crazy man. Because he is John Constantine, and because he is alive.”

Tim took that in. Did these trench coat guys go to a special school to learn to speak in this high-handed, overly poetic way? “So you're saying it's just who he is, to be that way.”

“Yes. It is his nature.”

Tim chewed his apple thoughtfully. Dr. Occult at least was a little more forthcoming with answers, even if he had trouble understanding them. “How about Mister E? Is he really blind?”

“Oh yes. He is an extremist. He fights what he sees as the forces of darkness. That is his only purpose; it's what drives him. But sometimes I suspect that all he
can
see is darkness. However, he can travel in ways that even I cannot.”

Tim remembered that Zatanna hadn't seemed too crazy about Mister E either. Maybe none of them liked the guy, but he had some skills, so they put up with him. Like choosing Bobby Saunders for football. He was a pain, but boy, he could kick. And more important, you didn't want him playing for the
other
team.

“And the other one?” Tim asked. “He spooks me. He seems really…different.”

“The Stranger? Ahh…I have encountered him many times in the past.” Dr. Occult slipped his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and nodded. It was hard for Tim to make out his face under the brimmed hat. “He walks his own path. One that began too long ago, and I suspect has no end in sight. I do not know his story. I know no one who does. Perhaps he has walked for such a
long time that he himself no longer remembers.”

How could someone forget who he is?
Tim decided not to bother asking and skipped to his next question. “And what about you?” he asked. Would Dr. Occult be as open about himself as he'd been about the others?

“I am your guide through this stage of your journey, Timothy Hunter. And you may trust me. Empty your pockets.”

So that's that. Interview over. Oh well
,
I did the best I could
.

Tim tossed away the apple core, rummaged through his pockets, and pulled out the contents. String, a stubby pencil, two markers, keys, coins, gum, lint. A trading card.

Dr. Occult peered at the objects in his hands. “Leave the keys and the coins here,” he instructed. “Cold iron will not be welcome where we go. The rest you may retain.”

Tim looked around. “Where should I…?” He didn't want to lose his stuff. “Got it!” Kneeling by a large tree root, he dug a little hole and put his coins and keys into it. He patted the dirt over the top.

“Hope I can remember where I put them,” he said, standing back up again. He knocked the dirt from the knees of his jeans.

“Listen to me carefully now,” Dr. Occult said.
“There are things you must remember. You must obey my orders explicitly and in all things, no matter how petty or strange they seem to you.”

“Oookay,” Tim agreed. He didn't like just accepting terms without knowing what they were. What if Dr. Occult told him to jump off Tower Bridge? Would he do it? That's what Molly always asked. But it wasn't as if he had much choice. And Dr. Occult knew a lot more about where they were going than he did.

“Secondly,” Dr. Occult continued, “ask no questions or favors of those you meet on our travels. Accept no gifts or foodstuff without my permission.”

Tim nodded.
Keep your mouth shut
, he translated for himself,
and no goodies
. He sighed. That meant no souvenirs. Too bad. He would have loved to pick up some kind of magic toy for Molly.

“Thirdly, remember your manners. Etiquette will be important where we go, and good manners are gold. For a trivial impoliteness you could find yourself cursed with donkey's ears, or worse. And lastly,
never
stray from the path. No matter what you see, or hear, or feel.” Dr. Occult studied Tim seriously, gazing deep into his eyes, as if he could burrow into his mind to make sure the rules stuck. “Do you understand?”

Tim wiped his hands on his shirt. His palms
had grown sweaty while he listened to Dr. Occult's instructions. “I suppose.” He had been feeling more comfortable with all this magic stuff—until he was bombarded with all these rules!
Everything with magic is so complicated
, he thought.
So filled with consequence
.

Dr. Occult nodded. “Good.” He gazed up at the sky. Streaks of purple and pink dyed the clouds, and the sun hung fat and heavy in the treetops. The sky above was deepening to indigo. Mist rose as twilight spread across the quiet countryside.

“We are ready to begin our journey. Wait here,” Dr. Occult said, and he pointed to a small gate that stood alone in the distance. “I will walk across to that wicket gate. When I wave to you, then walk as I walked, along that path. When you cross the stream, take care not to get your feet wet. Yes?”

“Fine.” Tim nodded. This whole thing seemed bizarre to him. He watched Dr. Occult make his way down the hill, toward the stream and then to the gate, which Tim hadn't noticed before. In fact, he was pretty sure there had been nothing on that side of the stream until the sun had gone down. But other than the gate, all he could see there was more of the same pretty countryside. Nothing special. Why there would be a lone wooden gate,
unconnected to any fence, he couldn't imagine.

As he watched Dr. Occult cross the stream, Tim's heart started to thump. Would he remember all the rules? Were they really going to Fairyland? And would he make it back out again—that was the bigger, underlying worry, too big to even think about. Tim shook off the idea before it could settle into his brain and scramble it.

He heard Yo-yo's flapping wings above him, and was glad to have the bird along as company. “Yo-yo, why are we doing this?” He looked up at the bird. “I guess you're kind of along for the ride. Where I go you go, right?”

The bird circled his head.

“Okay, then, why am
I
doing this? Anyone with half an ounce of sense would have told them all to bugger off at the beginning.”

Dr. Occult gave the signal, a short wave, without turning to face Tim.

“Oh, well,” Tim said. “Too late to back out now.” He looked up at the bird and shrugged. “No one's ever accused me of having any sense anyway.”

Tim hurried along the path Dr. Occult had taken. Not wanting to make any mistakes, he even went so far as to put his feet into Dr. Occult's large and muddy footprints. He made it
down to the stream.

“Here goes.” He carefully crossed the little stream, glad that his shoes had rubber soles to help him grip the slippery rocks.
Don't get your feet wet
, he reminded himself.
I suppose they don't have door mats where we're going, and they don't want us to track in mud
.

Tim came up behind Dr. Occult, who still hadn't moved. His hand was on the gate. Yo-yo landed on one of its posts.

“I'm here. Uh…Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Constantine said we were going to Fairyland. He was kidding, wasn't he?”

“We travel through the Fair Lands, child. Call them Avalon, or Elvenhome, or Faerie. It matters not. It is the land of Summer's Twilight.”

“Oh.” Tim wasn't sure if he felt better or worse—or just weirder. “So when do we go there?”

“Look behind you.”

Tim's heart pounded as he slowly turned around to face the way they had come.

The landscape had changed. The apple tree, the cable wires, the path, the stream—all had vanished. He gazed at a glittering sunrise over a crystal-clear lake, only the purples and pinks were paler than he'd seen in any sunrise,
softer and all-encompassing.

“We have already left your world,” Dr. Occult said. “This wooden gate exists in both worlds—here and there.”

“You mean, people can just cross over like that?” Tim asked.

“There are many places common to more than one plane,” Dr. Occult explained. “They are accessible to those who know the path to walk.”

“Um, I see. I think. Where do we go now?”

“Through the gate. And once through it, you may notice a few changes.”

Tim gulped. More changes? Could he take any more? “Like what?”

“You'll see.”

Dr. Occult swung open the little wooden gate. Together he and Tim walked through it. When they came out the other side, Tim stared at Dr. Occult. He had turned into a
she
!

“Dr. Occult?” Tim gaped at the woman standing beside him. She was tall, with short, straight brown hair. Her angular face was pretty but plain. She wore no makeup, and her clothes were simple—a jacket, a blouse, a skirt. She would have looked at home in an office, rather than a magical kingdom. “Is that what you really look like?”

“No. I am no longer Dr. Occult, although we share certain purposes in common. He is himself as I am me, but I am still your guide.”

“I don't understand.” Tim couldn't stop staring, even though he knew it was rude and that he'd been warned to have good manners in this place.

“Dr. Occult and I represent different aspects of a single entity. Male and female. Anima and animus.”

Like in the cards that Madame X had read, Tim realized. A man in touch with his feminine side. Here was Dr. Occult's feminine side—in the flesh. What else had that card predicted? Oh yeah. That it could represent several women connected to his safety and identity. Zatanna was probably part of that card too.

“These are things we all carry within ourselves. In this world, I prefer to highlight the female.”

“What's your—” Tim was about to ask the woman, who used to be Dr. Occult, what her name was, but then he remembered the rules. “I mean, please, what are you called?”

“Find a name for me,” the woman challenged.