Free Muses on the Move by Clea Hantman Page B

say aye!”
    “But…” I said. It didn’t matter. I was drowned out by the loud chorus of ayes.
     
    Colonial clothing, tarot, and tea leaves,
The Muses and Pocky are so clearly naive
To think that mere mortals can predict things to come.
Now I, Alek, head Fury, have them under my thumb.
I suspect all that gibberish threw their heads in a whirl
And will take them on a detour that will ruin these girls.
They’ll keep using magic, and they’ll find out real soon
The more magic they use, the more surely they’re doomed!

THIRTEEN
    Wednesday night/Thursday morning, 12:36 A.M. , Hotel Royale, New York City
    “I t’s just like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous !” screamed Pocky as we entered the room.
    The inside of our hotel suite at the Hotel Royale was indeed amazing. It was the closest thing I’d seen to our castle back home yet. The curtains were thick and velvety. There was gold glittering everywhere. The beds were big and thick and luxurious. And the room was huge—there was plenty of space to waltz four couples wide, if we wanted.
    Suddenly we weren’t tired anymore. We read the hotel guide, and it gave phone numbers for things like “room service” and “health spa.” Pocky couldn’t believe we’d never heard of that stuff before, but he explained it all to us, anyway. And then we just went crazy.
    We started by calling the fancy restaurant downstairs and begging them to make a midnight turkey dinner for our friend Pocky. With all the fixin’s! And they said, “Yes, madam.” Just like that. We spied on all the New York neighbors with the telescope that was set up next to our windows, which gave us a view of all these amazing buildings that were oh, so high. We turned up the stereo as loud as it would go and danced on the giant beds. Then Era said she was dying for a Roman massage, so we called up the desk and they sent up masseuses for us, just like that! They weren’t skilled in the Roman massage, but we got something called “shiatsu” that was divine and maybe even better than at the Beautorium back home. After our massages the food came, delivered by men in tuxedos. Pocky got his turkey dinner with cranberries and sweet potatoes with marshmallows and mashed potatoes and gravy, and Era got the biggest plate of french fries I’d ever seen, and it came under a silver domed plate just like back home. Polly got a vegetarian feast of roasted vegetables and portobello mushrooms with currants and arugula and frisée and all sorts of things I’d never heard of. And I ordered the giant shrimp cocktail and lobster, and it came with its own bib. We ordered up two movies on the TV and sat back in bed, eating ourselves silly. We only made it through one of themovies before we were tossed into a serious food coma and sleep was upon us.
    When we woke up the next morning, we pocketed all the fun little bottles of stuff in the bathroom, like shampoo and conditioner and those plastic hats that go on your head when you don’t want to get your hair wet. We waited at the front desk as the desk guy swiped our credit card and gave us one of those receipt things (which I promptly threw in the trash). Then we headed out the door to hit the road and drive, unfortunately, south.

FOURTEEN
    Thursday, 8:16 A.M. , New York City
    I knew something was different the moment we stepped outside. The streets were crazy busy. There seemed to be at least five times as many people out here today as there were yesterday. People were crowded everywhere, and there were tons of folks selling things on tables and blankets. It was kinda like being in Sparta for the Cretan bull run. There were people smooshed against one another as far as the eye could see. And it was hard to stay together with all the pushing and shoving. I could see Pocky in front of us, leading the way—no doubt with thoughts of Madame La Rue in his head—but all of a sudden Polly and I realized we had lost Era.
    We backtracked a few steps and saw her kneeling on the