“I’m sorry,” I said. “I probably seem ungrateful. But everyone else has had a month to get to talk to you, to get to know you. Last thing I remember, you were a mystery to us. Now everyone’s best friends, but I need to know why.”
“Can’t the fact that your friends trust me be enough?” she asked.
“Frankly, no. After all,” I replied, “they needed you to keep me alive. That was a need you could take advantage of… either through magic or through good, old-fashioned manipulation.”
Instead of looking offended, Blondie grinned.
“That’s a solidly distrusting attitude to have, babydoll. You’re learning. How about we start from the beginning?”
“From the beginning?” I asked, unsure of her meaning.
“Yep,” she said, sticking out her hand for me to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m—” and here, she said that totally unpronounceable string of bendy sounds, grunts, and clicks.
I blinked at her and then took her hand and said hello before trying my damndest to imitate that string of noises she’d just made.
Blondie made a face, before repeating her name.
I tried again. Her grimace deepened.
“That’s terrible. You have a tin ear. How about a nickname?” she asked.
I nodded, knowing it would take me a good year, at least, to pronounce her true name.
“Sometimes my friends call me—” she started, and then, I swear to the gods, she said what could only be spelled “Xctvbivobi.” I stared at her for a second, before giving her name the old college try.
“Yeesh,” was her only response. “That’s even worse. Can you do Cviciaoozozo?”
I tried. I failed.
“You’ve lived a long time,” I pleaded. “You have to have had human names. Can’t we use one of those?”
Blondie frowned. “Those names are my history, and they’re dead and buried. Plus, some of them are still on various wanted lists.”
I responded by tentatively trying her real name one more time.
She made a cat’s-anus face.
“Tell you what,” she said. “What would you like to call me?”
I shifted on my feet. “I sort of had a nickname for you before.”
“Great,” she said. “What is it? As long as it’s not Bitch-Faced Monster, we can roll with it.”
“Um,” I said. “I called you Blondie.”
Blondie grinned. “That’s perfect. I fucking love Blondie. That bitch can party.”
I sighed, thinking of Amy. “So I’ve heard,” I said.
“Blondie it is. At least until I can get that tongue of yours whipped into shape,” the Original said, giving me a bawdy wink and taking a step toward me.
I blushed, feeling a little twinge of heat in my belly. The fact is, the Original was not only super hot, but she had that Tilda Swinton, David Bowie, or TAFKAP style androgynous pansexuality. The kind where everyone, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, kinda wanted to boff them.
But you’re smitten with a dog, I reminded myself, turning away from Blondie to watch as Anyan barked, did that doggie-playful-bow thing—with his ass in the air and his tail wagging—and then raced away just as Caleb and Iris got close enough to grab him.
“Well, Blondie,” I said, turning back to the Original. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jane.”
We shook hands, pseudo-solemnly.
“So, now that we’ve been introduced, what do you want to know?” she asked.
“I was told you were here because you’re searching for something in Rockabill. Some kind of power. And it’s hidden away, according to a nursery rhyme, and protected by four locks.”
Blondie nodded as I spoke.
“So,” I continued. “You followed Anyan and me around the country, instead of coming straight here and dealing with Nell. You say you did that because you wanted to see what we were like, but you never approached us, just followed us. And then we get attacked, but you’re right there to ‘help out.’ Can you see why I’m a little suspicious?”
Blondie sighed. “Yes, I can. And to be frank, I haven’t been completely honest.”
I stiffened, unsure of where this was going to go. If Blondie decided to admit to being allied with Jarl and his cronies, we were fucked, what with Nell and Anyan out for the count.
“Don’t get all uptight,” the Original chided. “I’m not a bad guy. I just know a little more than I told the others.”
I frowned and she shook her head.
“They weren’t secrets you had to know, and you’ll understand why I had to keep them if you’ll just let me finish.” When I stayed quiet, clearly indicating she should talk, she continued.
“The fact is, there’s more to the nursery rhyme than most people know. I’ve found the original