My Favorite Band Does Not Exist Read online

  "I don't know. All I know for sure is that it's not Fireskull's Revenant." He raised the book to read by the light from his phone. "Or maybe I just haven't gotten to that part yet."

  WHEN Highcast had finished delivering his prophecy to Johnny Without, Johnny had his aide, Shut Stepthroat, throw him out of Castle Vanish.

  Although Shut did not argue with Johnny in front of the prophet, he spoke up when he returned to the throne room. "My lord." Shut's towering blocky body stood at stiff attention in the middle of the vast chamber. "I have heard that Highcast is an authentic prophet."

  Johnny looked up from the ancient dusty book in his lap. As always, thanks to Fireskull's theft of the Talisman of Integrity, the parts of Johnny's body changed shape often, remaining constantly out of synch. One moment his amber eyes were magnified compared to the rest of his face; then one arm was slightly larger than the other, one leg much smaller than its partner. Looking at him was like looking through a patchwork magnifying lens, with his head, torso, and limbs all seen at different degrees of enlargement or reduction.

  Johnny wore a white tunic and bottoms that were loose enough to stay out of the way of his body's changes... usually. As forgiving as the clothes were, they still bore rips and tears from his more extreme and sudden shape shifts.

  "Clearly, he is working for Fireskull." Johnny's voice, like the rest of him, was fragmented. Each syllable sounded as if it had been spoken by a different person, jumping from bass to soprano to whisper to shout to child to adult to woman to man. "He wants to buy time to rebuild his forces by discouraging us from attacking."

  "Humbly, I offer a question, my lord," said Shut. "What if his prophecy is true?"

  "My world already ended the first time I met Fireskull face-to-face," said Johnny. "When he stole the talisman and lost my sons in the distant future."

  "But if there is even a chance that Highcast is right..."

  "Why would he wait until now to tell us?" Johnny asked. "Why not warn us before the huge battle in which there were who knows how many close calls of Fireskull and me bumping into each other?"

  Shut shrugged. "Maybe he didn't have the vision in time to get here before the battle."

  Johnny shook his head. With each shake, one side of his face ballooned as if passing through a bubble of magnification, then popped back to its original size.

  "Remember the last time someone told us a prophecy?"

  Johnny raised an eyebrow, which swelled and skated up off his forehead.

  Shut sighed. "The Lady Acrimony."

  "And how did things turn out when we listened to what she said?"

  "We were fed to sky sharks," Shut replied.

  "And what else?" Johnny asked.

  "Your subjects were turned to stone."

  "By whom?" Johnny glared.

  Shut flushed with embarrassment and shuffled his feet on the red carpet. "The Lady Acrimony." He dropped his voice and turned away as he spoke.

  Johnny slammed the book shut. "Case in point. The moral of the story is do not always listen to prophets."

  "But we're talking about the end of the world here," said Shut. "Maybe it would not hurt to err on the side of caution this time."

  Johnny tossed the heavy book aside, and it hit the marble floor with a satisfying thoom. "Look," he said. "If you can figure out a way to retrieve my sons and my talisman and destroy Fireskull without involving me, maybe I'll never again have to meet him face-to-face and bring on Boomsday. So gather up the war council and get cracking!"

  Shut nodded. "Yes, lord." He bowed deeply. "Thank you, lord." Then, he spun and marched briskly out of the room, leaving Johnny on his own.

  It was only then that Johnny could relax completely and slump down into his throne. It was only then that he could allow the weight of Highcast's prophecy to press upon him like a giant thumb. Because, truthfully, Johnny was not as sure that the prophecy was a lie as he had led Shut to believe.

  Highcast had said things that implied supernatural insight, referring to facts that only Johnny could possibly have known.

  Johnny was certain that the comments had gone right over Shut's head, as he could not have known what to make of them. Johnny, however, had recognized the significance of each one.

  No one but Johnny, for example, knew that he and Fireskull were distant cousins; not even Fireskull knew that. Highcast, however, had mentioned Johnny's struggles against his "cousin next door."

  No one but Johnny knew that some of the soldiers defending his kingdom were illusions, but Highcast had referred to Johnny's "mirage warriors."

  And no one but Johnny knew that he had given up his sons to save his kingdom. Not even Fireskull knew that Johnny had sacrificed them voluntarily—giving up two lives for five thousand—but Highcast had begged him to abandon his plans for revenge on Fireskull, just as he had "let those children go for the good of the kingdom."

  So, contrary to what Johnny had told Shut, he did not really reject Highcast's prophecy as an outright lie.

  The problem was, in order to comply with the prophecy's restrictions, Johnny would have to abandon his sole purpose in life. In other words, he would not be able to tear the talisman from Fireskull's throat—the only way that he could restore his body to an undistorted state—and he would not be able to use torture to compel Fireskull to return his sons from the time warp. Contrary to what Johnny had told Shut, both tasks required Johnny and Fireskull to meet face-to-face. And according to Highcast, that would set Boomsday in motion and end the world.

  For decades, the only things that had kept Johnny going were thoughts of restoring his body, retrieving his children, and personally making Fireskull suffer. After all the years of sacrifice, he could hardly imagine giving up on those goals.

  Still, Johnny could not deny that it would be wise to proceed with caution. Highcast had given him enough reason to suspect that the prophecy had some truth to it. Saving his sons and restoring his natural form would not do him much good if in the process he destroyed the world and himself along with it.

  Johnny had been planning a daring new strike at the heart of his enemy's stronghold, following up on the battle just concluded. After hearing Highcast's prophecy, however, he would postpone the planned strike at Fireskull and his Unrepentant Kingdom. Perhaps he could even turn the change in plan to his eventual advantage.

  Meanwhile, he would try to think of a way around the prophecy. Maybe, if he inhabited another person's physical form or altered himself in some way, he could still face Fireskull without triggering Boomsday. Better yet, perhaps an investigation of Highcast's word would cast doubt on its accuracy and untie Johnny's hands altogether.

  To pursue these avenues, he would need magic, which only one adept in all his kingdom could wield. He would need to turn to the sorceress.

  He sprang from his throne and marched across the chamber. As he walked, one foot became enormous—as big as a leg—while the other foot grew and shrank and spun around all at the same time.

  "Shut!" He flung open the door to the room where the war council was meeting. "Bring me the witch! Bring me Scrier Inevitas!"

  REACHER barely looked up when Eurydice walked in the door of his motel room. He was busy writing a song for his rock opera, Singularity City, alternately strumming chords on his acoustic guitar and scribbling in a notebook on one of the twin beds.

  "Lunch is served." She dropped onto the other bed and plunked a bag of fast food down beside her. "I'm starving."

  "Thanks, Eury." Reacher was hungry, too. The band had driven twelve hours from the last hotel, where Hiya Permaneck had almost caught up with them. They'd stopped only once, five hours in, for gas and vending machine junk food.

  "Please remember to tip your waitress," Eurydice said with a wink. "The lyrics you're looking for are 'Eurydice, Eurydice. She is the perfect woman.' "

  "Okay, yeah," said Reacher. "Let me see if I've got that." Strumming his fingers over the guitar strings, he smiled beatifically and sang, "Eurydice, Eurydice. Her mid
dle name's insanity."

  Eurydice opened the fast food bag and pulled out a french fry. "Just for that, you don't get any of these."

  "Well, if you don't give me any fries," Reacher said, "I will write a song about you."

  "Anything but that!"

  "Maybe I've already written one," he continued. "Maybe I'm saving it for when Youforia goes public."

  "You better watch it," said Eurydice. "I might start pushing for the band never to go public."

  Reacher sighed and strummed the guitar. "At the rate we're going, there's not much chance of that, what with the website posting our secrets and Hiya Permaneck chasing us around and everyone in the band ready to string me up if I don't give the go-ahead."

  "Don't let them rush you."

  "I just don't want the band out there till we're ready. Till I'm ready," said Reacher. "I don't want to fail. I don't want to fall apart onstage in front of everyone."

  Eurydice nibbled a french fry and sucked soda from the straw in her fast food paper cup. "So when will you know if you're ready?"

  He strummed a chord and stared at the floor. "I'm waiting for that magic feeling. Chills up my spine. Like, we're in the middle of a practice, and I'll get this feeling and I'll just know. I'll know I'll never have to wear a mask again. I'll be able to play in front of people as myself, and they'll accept me for who I am."

  "But you're not getting that feeling yet?" Eurydice pulled a dodo bird burger out of the bag and tossed it on the bed beside him. Then, she unwrapped a burger of her own and took a bite.

  Reacher shook his head. "Maybe I'm trying too hard to find it. I don't think the others will stick around much longer, so I keep hoping I'll get the feeling and we can go public before everyone quits."

  Eurydice finished her burger, then balled up the paper wrapper and threw it at Reacher. The wrapper bounced off his chin and landed in his lap. "You can always make Youforia a duo," she said. "I'm not going to leave you."

  "I might just take you up on that." He put his guitar down on the floor, then leaned toward the nightstand to grab the thick raggedy paperback he'd been reading. He flipped through it absently before tossing it aside on the bed. "Or maybe I'll just give up music and be done with it."

  Eurydice tilted her head and smiled. "You try it, and I'll kick your butt." Then she snatched a pillow from the bed and walloped him with it.

  She got in three swings before Reacher yanked the pillow away from her. He threw it over his shoulder, then grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed with him.

  "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" he said with a grin.

  "I'd rather pick on someone I know I can beat," she said. "Like you."

  He tickled her, sending her into twitching, giggling spasms. When he stopped, the two of them lay tangled on the bedspread, face-to-face.

  Reacher gazed into her eyes. "You crack me up."

  Eurydice stroked the white stubble on his scalp. "And you love me because of it."

  Both smiling, Reacher and Eurydice drifted together and their lips met. When the long kiss finally ended, they stayed in each other's arms, gazes linked and breathing synchronized.

  "Reacher," Eurydice said softly. "You won't fail."

  "You make me feel like I can do it."

  "Your band's already a success, even in disguise, even as a secret. You haven't even introduced yourselves and people already know your name."

  "But what if it's all for nothing?" Reacher asked. "What if we let everybody down?"

  "You won't." Eurydice caressed his cheek with her fingertips. "Trust me." Her fingernails were painted with yin-yang symbols. On the nails of her right hand, the white half of the symbol was nearest the tip; on the nails of her left hand, the black half was nearest the tip. "You're so talented, and your rock opera is incredible. They're going to love you."

  "All my life, people told me I couldn't do anything right," Reacher said.

  "And here you are, on the verge of making your dreams come true." Eurydice tweaked the tip of his nose. "I guess they were wrong."

  Though they were alone in the room, Reacher dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'm afraid I'll come so close and it'll all fall apart."

  "Well, guess what? You know that magic feeling you've been waiting for with the band? The chills up your spine, and you just know?"

  Reacher nodded.

  "I've had that feeling since the first time I saw you," said Eurydice, and then she kissed him again.

  WHEN the girl wearing a T-shirt with the name of Idea's made-up band on it walked by, Idea was happy to see her ... at first.

  He and Eunice sat in a booth at a burger joint west of Cleveland, Ohio, where they'd stopped for lunch. While waiting for their food to arrive, Idea used his phone to work online, updating the band's Yapper feed and posting on YoFace as Wicked Livenbladder.

  Across the table, Eunice was working on her own phone. "Time to update my digihoroscope. Gotta input data on the dorks who were chasing you."

  "Are," corrected Idea. "Are chasing me. Chasing us. And it's only a matter of time till they catch up."

  "Not if we use the digihoroscope," said Eunice. "It's like magic, I'm telling you."

  "I could use some magic," he said.

  Eunice waved a straw like a magic wand. "Abracadabra! Presto disco!"

  It was then that the girl walked in the door of the restaurant.

  At first, he didn't pay much attention to her. She was a skinny redhead who looked like she'd just stepped out of a vat of freckles. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her glasses had dark red frames. Idea thought she was about the same age as Eunice, seventeen or eighteen.

  The redhead wore white pants and a pink T-shirt with You printed in bright yellow across the chest. As she walked past, Idea looked back down at his phone.

  Eunice's eyes, however, stayed glued to the girl as she walked away. "Did you see that?"

  "See what?"

  "Turn around," said Eunice. "Look what's on the back of that girl's shirt over there."

  Idea twisted around, lifted the bangs out of his eyes with the edge of his hand, and read the letters on the back of the girl's shirt. It took an instant for what he saw to fully register.

  Then his heart began to pound and his eyes shot wide open. "The front said YOU."

  "Plus FORIA on the back," added Eunice.

  "Equals YOUFORIA." As Idea watched, the redhead sat down in a booth across from another girl, a blonde who looked about the same age.

  "So is that T-shirt real?" asked Eunice. "Or is it imaginary like your band?"

  "Both." Idea turned back around to face her. "It's what you said about this thing taking on a life of its own. I made up this fantasy band, and the next thing I know, people in the real world are wearing T-shirts with the fake band's name on them."

  Eunice pretended to hold out a pen and a piece of paper. "Can I have your imaginary autograph?"

  "I wonder where she got it." Idea glanced over his shoulder at the redhead. "I wonder who's making them."

  "And what else are they making?" Eunice asked. "Imaginary posters? Imaginary ball caps? Imaginary underwear? Is there an entire imaginary factory somewhere, not cranking these things out?"

  "I have to talk to her." Idea slid across the bench and out of the booth just as the waitress brought their food to the table.

  Eunice jumped up and intercepted him a few steps from the redhead's table. "Allow me." She said it with a wink and a smirk, then swooped around him and planted herself smack in front of the two girls.

  "Youforia!" Eunice shifted from her usual snarky self to the voice and mannerisms of an excitable teenager. " Where did you get that shirt? Tell me!"

  "Some T-shirt stand at the mall," the redhead said with a friendly smile. "I'm Youforia's biggest fan."

  "Second biggest," said Eunice.

  "Biggest biggest." The redhead looked around, then leaned toward Eunice and lowered her voice. "Who else do you know with an actual Youforia download on her phone?"


  "No way," said Eunice.

  Suddenly Idea shoved in between Eunice and the redhead. "That's impossible!"

  The redhead drew back, looking annoyed. "I downloaded it this morning from this bizarre website. I can't remember the address, but it's called Talisman-something. The site comes and goes, so you can't always find it."

  "It's an actual track by Youforia?" Eunice asked.

  The redhead nodded smugly. "It's called 'Chapter 64.' " She raised her phone and tapped a few onscreen controls.

  Idea felt a twinge of Deity Syndrome but forced it down. "Not possible. It must be someone claiming to be Youforia."

  "It's Youforia claiming to be Youforia," said the redhead. "And this song is unbelievable."

  "I'm telling you, it can't be them." The more Idea thought about it, the easier it became to replace the panic of Deity Syndrome with rising anger. "Someone's taking all of Youforia's hard work and name recognition and stealing it by calling themselves Youforia."

  The redhead looked at her blond friend and sighed. "Here." She held out her ear buds to Idea and Eunice. "Listen for yourself."

  Eunice and Idea each took a bud. As they placed them in their ears, the redhead tapped her phone's screen.

  Idea's eyes widened. Eunice bobbed her head along with the beat of the song.

  The redhead and her friend shared a laugh at their expense.

  "See?" said the redhead. "Now who's the biggest fan?"

  An hour later, Idea and Eunice were back on the highway. They were still listening to the song, which the redhead had sent to Idea's phone.

  And Idea was brooding. As Eunice drove onward, he glared out the window in silence.

  Eunice made a game of trying to draw him out, with no success. "I'm going to pull over and rip off all my clothes now. What do you think of that, Pat?"

  When that didn't get a rise out of him, she tried this: "I'm secretly an eccentric billionaire, and I'll give you a million dollars in cash right now if you'll just tell me what you plan to spend it on."

  That didn't work, either. She tried again.

  "So does this mean you liked the song or hated it? I thought maybe you'd be happy that your made-up band was taking on even more of a life of its own."