The Landon Academy: I Dream in Noir, a Rick Dunwitch Novel

I really like this. More please.(?)(!)

More please.

Danni stopped. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She leaned against the stair railing and gasped for fresh air. Everything around her was wrong and she knew she was the cause. But why wasn’t it going away? She was awake now, she had to be awake, but then why wasn’t this all going away?

It started in the library, but she wasn’t sure how. She was reading an old Rick Dunwitch novel at the back table. Kelsie may have taken the final book, but Danni could still gain some joy from pouring over A Black Dance in the Pale Moonlight, an earlier book of the series, and her personal favorite. Meanwhile everything around her slowly altered to fit the rules of a different world.

The pages were always black and white so that never looked any different. But then she noticed her skin looked awfully pale. Her imagination maybe? She kept reading. But then her body felt different and she couldn’t say why exactly. She felt warmer. Were her blouse and jacket always this tight? And since when was she wearing a blouse? What happened to the school uniform? It became dimmer and dimmer until she could hardly read the words, and could barely focus on the pages while her head started to swim in the echoing music invading the privacy of the library.

She finished a chapter and then grew too frustrated to continue, as the music seemed to get closer. She looked up, but by then it was too late to stop it; the library was already more than half-transfigured into a dim chiaroscuro Jazz club. A few bookshelves still jutted into the sides of the dance floor, but most of the long, wooden study tables had evolved into round, elegant booths where students, now in 1940’s apparel, sat on velvet-cushioned seats. Danni stood and tried to comprehend her new environment.

No one noticed her look of panic, or gave any sign that something was amiss. The students were all listening, with various levels of ennui, to the haunting song of a siren girl on the main stage. Danni had seen her around school a few times before, but she seemed different; like everything else in the room, her face had been drained of color. But her song was so beautiful, why hadn’t Danni noticed her singing before now? It felt like the siren had always been there and that she had simply ignored it before. That could have been it. And it seemed like everything she remembered about color was just a foggy memory.

“No Danni!” she told herself, “you know what this is. It’s not real, and you know it. Now WAKE UP!”

Nothing happened, except all the book-cases were now missing. She hadn’t been looking at them and never saw them go, but now that their spots were blank she didn’t remember anything ever standing in there.

“Wake up!” she told herself once more.

It had no effect. She pinched herself on the arm. It hurt a bit, but that was wrong; you can’t feel pain in a dream. Then what was this? Danni dropped the book to the floor and stood up from the velvet-cushioned bench. She pushed her way forward, dodging the main dance hall, brushing past teenagers in zoot suits and cocktail dresses.

A voice called out.

“Hey doll, you looking for someone?”

Danni kept her head down and kept walking. She pressed a hand on either side of the double doors to the hallway. They swung open and the cool touch of night rushed against her face. Her breath tightened. There were no hallways, no lockers, no school, just endless city streets cast in dusk.

She leaned against the railing leading up the stairs to jazz club, and tried to catch her breath. A couple, one werewolf with oiled back hair and a white suit and one pixie in a silk dress with blonde Veronica Lake hair pushed past her.

“What’s the number with her you reckon?” the girl asked in a hushed whisper.

“Don’t know,” said the other, ‘Maybe she just had enough music.”

“Her loss.”

Then the door slammed behind them and Danni resolved to keep walking. Somewhere she’d find a way out, just like she used to. She just had to keep walking till she left the dreamspace.

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They say distance makes the heart grow fonder; well then, if I could find the place on this world that’s at the polar opposite side from Bartleby’s little saloon, I might be able to think of this place fondly some time. The inside was cavernous, with only a gas-lamp and a few small table candles creating points of light in the darkness. There was always smoke; day, morning, and night there was smoke in the air. It was like there was a thin little cloud that hovered under the roof, and no matter how much of it you breathed in, it never got smaller. Bartleby stood by the counter cleaning a glass, those sharp eyes of his following every move I made. Then she came in behind me.

“Aw shit!”

Then she fell, or sort of half fell half twisted her ankle. Kelsie grabbed onto me on her way down. She seemed to come out fine for it. She stabilized herself, then glanced down at her feet and identified the problem.

“Dammit since when was I wearing heels? Or a dress? What the hell happened?”

It was true, her clothes had changed, but for the better if you asked me. She was a proper dame now, shoes, stockings, primped and curled hair, the whole nine yards. My partner Bull, who she had called Brim just a moment ago, had also changed out his ridiculous outfit and into something more appropriate for detective work: a white dress shirt, striped trousers, suspenders and a trilby.

“Hey Kelsie,” Bull said, “I don’t want to alarm you but you’ve lost all your color too.”

“Yeah, so have you,” she said with a smile, “well at least we know who’s responsible for turning Bruce all janky. I just really hope all this isn’t permanent.”

“You two need to stop gabbing about nonsense for a minute,” I told them, “this might get tricky. There’s no time to strategize, so Bull you’re with me; Doll you stay here and look away if things get bad.”

Bull raised his hand. I looked to him.

“Yeah?”

“Just want to be clear,” he said, “I’m ‘Bull’ and Kelsie’s ‘Doll’ right? Cause if we’re giving out code names I’m fine with going from Brim to ‘Bull’, but,”

“Fuck that noise,” Kelsie said.

“What, I think that’s fair,” he said, “I think I’m way more bullish than you, and I’m definitely not being ‘Doll’.”

“No, I meant fuck the part where I have to ‘look away if things get bad’. If you’re gonna fight this A-Hole I’m gonna help.”

I sighed.

“Fine Bossy Britches we’ll do it your way.”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

I didn’t answer which only made her more irritable. Kelsie’s face made a great look when you pushed all her buttons at just the right time; she scrunched up her nose and puckered her lips in a way that was too sweet for me not to intentionally annoy her occasionally.

We approached Bartleby together and he looked up, pretending like he had just noticed us.

“Hey there Rick, what can I get you?’

“Who’s Rick?” Bull asked.

“He’s Rick,” Kelsie said with irritation, pointing to me, “The bartender is apparently Bartleby, or Brian or whoever, you’re Bull, and I’m doll, or dame, or whatever.”

“Got it.” Bull said.

Bartleby kept cleaning the same dry spot on the glass; I think he was starting to rub a divot into the side. The handle end of a dragonthorn wand was hidden within his shirt sleeve, and I’d imagine he thought I wouldn’t notice it.

“Your friends seem to be have a couple of screws loose Rick,” he said, “ you always travel with such strange company?”

“Not as strange as yours I hear. Tell me Bartleby, you wouldn’t be moving anything in under the table again?”

“What?” he exclaimed, almost convincingly, “you know I don’t deal in stuff like that any more, not since last time. Honest Ricky.”

Kelsie was twitching and spinning around like the dizzy dame that she was.

“Does anyone else hear that sad jazzy trumpet in the background,” she asked, “It’s just barely below what I can hear but its definitely there.”

Bartleby placed the glass down and gave an inquisitive glance towards Kelsie that I didn’t like one bit.

“Rick if your girl is hearing sounds you may want to get her looked at. Girl like that needs some help.”

“She ain’t daffy you schmuck, now you’re gonna start answering some questions.”

“Yeah, this has gone on too long,” Kelsie said, “Brian, tell us what’s going on. Why is everything all black and white with jazzy theme music? And why is Bruce acting like this? Did you hex him? What did he do to piss you off? Did he break something? Did he fight someone? Were bodily fluids involved?”

“Bruce?” Bartleby said, “I don’t know any Bruce lady, that’s Rick. And this place has always been like this. Honest.”

He stood up tall and puffed up his chest.

“Now look, you all have wasted too much of my time. I’m gonna have to ask that you to see the other side of that door real soon.”

“Not until you answer my question,” I told him, “I want to know what you’ve been smuggling through this place.”

Oily drops of sweat were beginning to run down the sides of his cheek.

“I already told you Rick, I ain’t involved in smuggling no more. I ain’t even heard of this Malachite Monkey.”

“Really,” I said, “I find that hard to believe since I never mentioned the monkey. You did.”

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Then his hand went for the wand in his sleeve. I grabbed his arm but the wand slid out and he grasped it between his fingers.

“Abra Ka-”

Bull’s fist shot past my ear and landed dead center in Bartleby’s nose. There was something beautiful in its crudeness; like watching a brick be thrown through a stained glass window.

Bartleby collapsed. The two of us hopped over the counter and found the wizard-barman on the floor, blood trickling out nostrils and down his lips. He began to open his eyes. I grabbed the wand off the tiles and snapped it for good measure. Bull picked the little wizard up by the scruff of his collar and slammed him down on the bar. I began opening the drawers behind the other side of the bar and scrounging through his bottles and various ‘products’. Across the bar, Kelsie watched us with unease. I told her it could get bad, that she should have stayed outside.

Inside one of the inner drawers I found something interesting, a vial of ruby red liquid with gold and black flecks floating inside. I lifted the vial gently and show it to Bartleby. He cringed and grunted, but couldn’t so much as reach for it. Bull had his arm twisted behind his back; it looked painful.

“Incubus pheromones?” I asked, “Bartleby I thought you said you were out of the smuggling game?”

“I’ve never seen that before, somebody must of left it there.”

“I don’t think so Bartle, this is a big vial. Very expensive, very fragile, no one would leave it unattended. Too big of a risk of something happening to it.”

I loosened my grip on the vial and it slipped from my fingers, smashing to the floor. A pink mist raised from the shards. Bartleby looked like I had just extracted one of his fingernails.

“Rick stop it, come on!”

I reached deeper into the bar’s hidden shelves. Bartleby began to squirm under Bull’s grip.

“Ok look, maybe I still a little smuggling, on the sides, for my friends. Like you Rick, we’re still friends ain’t we? I can still help you if we work this out”

There was a small scroll hidden behind a few counterfeit amulets of Amell. I took the scroll and held it out. It was the color of sand, except for some unearthly writing scrawled on the side in black.

“What do you got here Bartleby,” I said,

“No Rick! No! That’s an antique! Priceless!”

I pulled my lighter from inside my jacket. The latch clicked twice before it lit. Bartleby’s eyes went wide as I brought the flame under the withered scroll.

“OK, OK! I know where the monkey is!”

I held the lighter still, just an inch away from the scroll. I nodded to Bartleby.

“Talk.”

“Your girl, the old one, Camille, she came by,”

Kelsie made a noise like a scoff and a growl.

“Why is it always her?”

“I didn’t want to give it to her,” Bartleby continued, “honest Rick, but she had cash on hand and she made me an offer. I don’t know what it is about her but I couldn’t say no,”

“What’s she doing with it?” I asked. He was sweating now.

“I don’t know, she wouldn’t tell me. That’s the truth and I swear it Rick, I swear its all I know, now please, please don’t, not that one.”

Bartleby was more of a pathetic creature then I knew. I felt less like the valiant detective and more like a school-yard bully. I nodded to Bull and he released the wizard. I placed the scroll on the bar and turned away. The tiny little man scrambled for it and grasped it between his paws. I gave him a final look before walking away.

“All right. See, I still got some heart left you schmuck. But you better not be lying; and keep your nose clean this time.”

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The fresh air cleared my conscience from the business in the bar, though I couldn’t help but feel like I could use a smoke. I climbed the steps rising out of the sunken saloon with Bull and Kelsie following. The street was quiet, with a streetlight every hundred or so feet, like a line of urban lighthouses stretching to the horizon. I leaned against the light pole just outside the saloon and reached into my breast pocket for the cigarette case.

Bull and Kelsie stopped at the top of the stairs. She hugged her arms close to her chest and scanned the road. I could see goose-pimples beginning to form on her bare arms. She looked one way down the street, then the other.

“Wait, this isn’t right.”

“What do you mean doll?”

I placed one of the thin dark cigarettes in my mouth. Smoking Gitanes was a habit I picked up in Paris. Or was it Morrocco? Had I ever been to Paris or Morrocco? I actually can’t remember when I started smoking.

“Its just something’s different,” she said, “Was… was this street always here?”

Bull lifted an eyebrow and the cogs inside his head began turning.

“No,” he said slowly, “I remember there was a locker, and… a school. The school’s gone.”

He turned back and stared at the door to Bartleby’s saloon. It didn’t seem to give him any answers. Kelsie moved closer to the streetlight, siding up along side me. I lit the Gitane and plucked another from the case to offer to her. She shook her head.

“I still don’t smoke.”

“It’ll warm you up,” I said.

She shook her head without much else of a response and clutched her chest tighter. She was trembling from more than the cold. Hearing noises, imagining things that used to be that never were; there was clearly something going on here, but damn if I could see it. I placed the silver cigarette case into my inside breast pocket, then lifted my coat off my shoulders and gently draped it over hers. In getting close I could smell the overtones of her perfume: vanilla and rose. She lifted her hands and pulled the coat down over her like a shawl.

“Thanks,”

“No problem,” I said. I looked up to Bull, “Look, its getting late, why don’t you take Kelsie home while I follow up on the Camille angle. Gods know what she’ll do if she gets her hands on the Monkey.”

Kelsie shook her head and laughed without joy.

“You seriously don’t notice anything wrong with all this?”

“Of course something’s wrong,” I said, “That dame’s been nothing but a grocery aisle filled with nothing but 50% off trouble.”

She scowled.

“Bruce, that metaphor doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. Your name is Bruce, not Rick. You go to the Landon Academy, you are a sophomore, not a cheesy detective from a pulp fiction story. There is no monkey, no dark city streets, and you don’t smoke. None of this is real.”

I pulled in close and kissed her on the cheek.

“Darling I may not know what ‘this’ is, but its real. Let Bull take you home, and let me do what I do best.”

I pulled back then slinked away into the foggy night. Behind me I heard Bull ponder something,

“Huh, you know I do kind of hear the jazz now, except that’s definitely a sax.”

“Well it was a trumpet earlier,” Kelsie muttered back.