by Holly Black
“No,” Kaye said, sitting down. She wanted to put more anger in her voice, but she couldn’t. “I almost died.”
“Nicnevin’s knight saved you, did he not?”
Kaye nodded, looking up to see him, half in shadows, his hands in the pockets of his coat, glowering impressively. It made her want to grin at him, although she was afraid he might grin back and ruin his furious demeanor.
“Why have you brought him among us?”
“If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.”
The Thistlewitch looked in the direction of the knight and then back at Kaye. “Do you know of the things he has done?”
“Don’t you understand? She made him do them!”
“I have no desire to be welcome among you, old mother,” Roiben said, kneeling down on one knee in the soft earth. “I only wanted to know whether you were aware of the price of your freedom. There are trolls and worse that are delighted to be without any master but their own desires.”
“And if there are, what of it?” Spike asked, coming up behind them. “Let the mortals suffer as we have suffered.”
Kaye was astonished. She thought back to Lutie’s disdain for mortal girls. If she’d been the mortal she thought she was, they would never have been her friends. Her fingers brushed over the purple plastic covering her legs, letting her nails cut little lines in the vinyl. She had wanted them to be better than people, but they weren’t, and she didn’t know what they were anymore. She’d been flung back and forth through too many emotions over the past few days, she was hungover from adrenaline, she was worried about Corny and worried about Janet.
“So it’s us against them now? I’m not talking about the Unseelie Court, here. Since when are mortals the enemies of the solitary fey?” Kaye said, anger bleeding into her voice, making it rough. She looked at Roiben again, drawing confidence from his proximity, and that worried her too. How had he gone from being someone she half despised to being the one person she was relying on, in the space of mere hours?
Roiben’s hand touched her shoulder lightly, a comforting gesture. It amused her how wide Spike’s eyes got.
“You think like a mortal,” Spike said.
“Well, gosh, I did spend every week of my life except the last thinking I was one.”
Spike’s thick brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side, black eyes glittering. “You don’t know anything about Faerie. You don’t know where your loyalties should be.”
“If I don’t understand, it’s because you didn’t tell me. You kept me in the dark, and you used me.”
“You agreed to help us. You saw the importance of what we were doing.”
“We have to tell the solitary fey that Nicnevin was innocent of the sacrifice. This has to stop, Spike.”
“I won’t go back to being bound. Not for any mortal. Not for anything.”
“But the Unseelie Queen is dead.”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s always another, worse than the last. Don’t you dare try to undo this. Don’t you dare go around telling tales.”
“Or you’ll what?” Roiben said softly.
“It’s not her place,” Spike protested, twisting the long hairs of one eyebrow nervously between his fingers.
“The Tithe was not completed. The reason matters little. The result is the same. For seven years the solitary fey in Nicnevin’s lands are free.”
“Unless they enter into a new compact.”
“Why would they do that?” Spike demanded. “Rumor has it that the Seelie Queen is coming down from the north, bringing practically the whole court, from what I hear.”
Roiben froze at that. “Why is she coming?” he breathed.
Spike shrugged. “Probably to see what she can claim before the Unseelie Court gets on its feet again. Bad time to be making deals with anyone.”
“Do you think Nephamael’ll bring Corny to the Seelie Court?” Kaye asked Roiben.
He nodded once. “He’ll have to if he intends to keep him.” The assumption that if Nephamael didn’t intend to keep Corny, he was already dead, went unspoken.
“Do you know where they’re going to camp?” Kaye asked Spike.
“It’s an orchard,” Spike said. “A place where people pick their own apples. They should be there by tomorrow’s dawn.”
Kaye knew where that was. She’d gone there on a school trip and a couple of times with her grandmother. Delicious Orchards.
“Wait, I want to come with you,” Lutie said, flying to Kaye’s shoulder. Kaye felt a sharp tug on her hair as Lutie caught a strand.
“I can help,” the little faerie said contritely.
“Roiben, this is Lutie-loo. Lutie-loo, Roiben.”
Kaye loved it when he grinned. She really did.
“It is my distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Roiben said, touching the tiny hand with two fingers.
Kaye walked down the boardwalk, as she had done not even a week before. Tonight, the moon was on the wane, distorted-looking, and the brine off the sea clung to her skin and hair in a fine mist. The tiny specks of silver glittered in the stretchy purple vinyl of Liz’s catsuit as she moved.
Helplessness in the face of not knowing where Corny was had made her restless. She wanted to go everywhere, anywhere Nephamael might have taken him, but she didn’t know where any of those places might be. Finally, she decided go to the rave after all. If she couldn’t help Corny immediately, maybe she could help Janet. Kaye was so worried that she needed to do something, no matter whether it needed doing.
The pounding of music inside the abandoned building was loud enough that she could feel the bass beating through the wooden slats of the boardwalk. Once called Galaxia, the club sat half on the street and half on what remained of the pier. Several years ago part of the pier had burned down, wrecking game booths, a water slide, and a haunted house. The remaining blackened shell was used only to set off the city’s annual fireworks. Galaxia had once been a typical Jersey Shore bar and dance club—the airbrushed sign still hung over the doorway, although it was grayed and the edges were abraded from wind-tossed sand.
Tonight she could see glow sticks and bright clothes pulsing with each flash of a strobe light through the window. Kaye wasn’t sure if the place had been rented or just broken into. A large crowd was gathered around the door, some costumed for Halloween in masks and face paint, others wearing their normal baggy jeans and T-shirts. A girl with her hair in hundreds of bright braids bounced in place, a teddy bear tethered to her belt loop with a fluorescent yellow cord.
Before they got too close, Roiben picked up two leaves from the gutter. In his hands they became crisp bills that he folded quickly into the pockets of his coat. Lutie peeked her head out and ducked back down.
“I have to work on this glamour thing, don’t I?” Kaye said, but he only smiled.
At the entrance, a girl with a blue beehive wig, blue lipstick, and a blue lip ring made change for him.
“Nice outfit,” the girl said to Kaye, her gaze flicking enviously over the catsuit. Kaye smiled her thanks, and then they were inside.
Bodies were pressed against one another, undulating like a great wave, dancers having room only to hop in place. A clown was dancing on the bar, his makeup done with neon paint that glowed under the black light. Two girls dressed as cats, both in white leotards with pin-on tails, danced beside him. The music was so loud that Kaye didn’t even try to talk to Roiben; she just slipped her hand inside his and pulled him along through the crowd. He let her lead him toward the back where double doors opened onto the blackened boardwalk that was being used as an impromptu dance floor for those that couldn’t fit inside the club.
It was as packed as inside, bodies jammed together so that even those that were sitting along the walls were touching.
“See anything?” she yelled.
He shook his head.
Two ends of a horse shouldered by them, holding water bottles. She thought she saw Doughboy in the crowd, not dressed as anything, but s
he wasn’t sure.
“Kaye,” Roiben yelled into her ear. “There. Look.”
She followed the quick flick of his hand with her gaze, but she didn’t see anything. She shrugged, knowing that would be easier to understand than speech.
“Look for your friends,” he yelled. She nodded as he set off in the direction of a tall woman with thick lips and maroon hair. The woman stopped dancing and began shouting at him, arms waving wildly when he got close. Then the woman turned, as if to run, and he grabbed her arm.
Kaye left them still arguing and waded through the crowd. If there was just the one faerie and Roiben had already found her, then maybe there was nothing to be nervous about here. In the crush of bouncing dancers, it seemed impossible that there would be anything dangerous and unworldly. Kaye found herself relaxing.
Kenny was on the pier dancing with Fatima and Janet. Fatima had on three different layers of long skirts and a scarf over her head with big hoops in her ears, looking like a pirate. Janet was wearing all black with whiskers drawn on her face in eyeliner. The whiskers reminded Kaye more of a mouse than a cat.
Kaye took a deep breath. “Hey.”
Fatima raised her eyebrows, and Kenny stared at her as though she didn’t have the glamour on at all.
“Hi,” Janet said. Not for the first time, Kaye wondered why Janet had invited her. Had Kenny passed on Kaye’s message? Had Janet heard what happened at school? Was it to teach Kenny a lesson? From the way he’d paled when she came up to them, Kaye decided that it was probably working.
Kaye bounced with the music. There was little room to wave her arms unless they were directly above her head.
“Getting some water,” Kenny shouted.
He walked off toward the inside of the building.
“Are you going to go after him?” Janet asked.
Kaye looked at her, surprised. Then she shook her head. “I came here to see you. I should have made things more clear, I guess, but there’s nothing between me and Kenny. There never was. There never will be.”
Janet wore a skeptical expression. “So how come he kept grabbing you and then looked like a kicked puppy when you weren’t around?”
“He doesn’t look like that anymore,” Kaye said. “And, come on, I am a weirdo. What was he going to do with me?”
Janet gave her a reluctant smile. “You’re not that weird.”
Kaye raised her eyebrows exaggeratedly and got an actual smile.
“Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even,” Janet said. “No, two drinks.”
“Gladly,” Kaye said, and went gratefully to the bar.
She ran into Kenny in line for the men’s bathroom.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer.
She took a breath. Her mind was spinning from all the worry, and she found that she had nothing else to say to him and nothing she needed to hear from him. It was enough that she knew he was all right, eyes clear and free of any enchantment.
“See you back over there.” Kaye felt foolish having tried to talk to him. She began to dance her way back to the bar.
Then the music changed.
It was still the spacey, disjointed sound of trance music, but there were unusual instruments in the background, strange reedy sounds and whispers. Dance. Kaye’s body complied unthinkingly, spinning her into the thick crush of bodies.
Everyone was dancing. People bobbed against one another, arms waving in the air, heads nodding with the music. No one sat against the wall. No one stood in line or smoked a cigarette along the water’s edge. Everyone danced—sweaty bodies packed tight, drunk with sound.
At first, it was a gentle compulsion, slipping into Kaye’s mind easily. Then she began to notice the fey.
A freckle-faced faerie with flame-red hair that rose up into a Dr. Seuss curl was the first one that she saw. He was dancing like the others, but when he saw her stare, he winked. Looking quickly around, she noticed more, winged sprites with tiny silver hoops piercing the points of their ears, goblins the size of dogs drinking bottled water off the top of the bar, a green-skinned pixie boy with a blue glow stick lighting up the inside of his mouth. And other fey, dim shadows at the edges of the club, flashes of glittering scales, luring dancers into the empty bathrooms and out onto the pier.
Beside Janet danced a disturbingly familiar gray-skinned boy. Kaye pushed brutally through the crowd, knocking people aside with her elbows just in time to see Janet smile up at the kelpie and let him lead her off the edge of the pier.
“Janet!” Kaye screamed, pushing her way to the water.
But when she got there, there were only ribbons of red curls sinking below the waves. She stared for a moment, until desperation rose up in her and she jumped. Bone-cold black water closed over her head.
Her muscles clenched with shock as she went under once and then bobbed up, teeth chattering, spitting out briny water. Her flailing hands caught strands of hair and she pulled, cruelly, desperately. Her legs kicked automatically, treading water.
Her hand came up empty save for a clump of tangled red hair.
“Janet!” she cried as a wave broke almost on top of her, pushing her into the pilings beneath the pier. Taking a deep breath, she dove down, opening her eyes as she went, desperately hoping, casting her hands like claws.
She bobbed up from the water again, out of breath and coughing. It had been too dark to see anything, and the reach of her arms had found nothing.
“Janet!” Kaye screamed, one hand slapping the top of the water, sending a spray of it showering down around her. She was treading water violently, raging at Janet, at herself, and especially at the frigid, black, unfeeling sea that had swallowed Janet up.
Then, rising above the waves like a magnificent statue, there was the kelpie itself, nostrils flaring and clouds of hot breath rising from them.
“Where is Janet?” Kaye shouted.
“Oh no, now you are in my element. No demands.”
“A deal then, please. Just let her go.” It was hard to speak through chattering teeth. Her body was slowly adjusting, numbing to the temperature of the ocean.
Kaye looked into the softly glowing eyes, their whiteness reflecting in the black sea like distant moons. “Please.”
“No need for deals and bargains. I am done. You may have the rest of it if you like.”
A body bobbed to the surface beside the black horse, red hair tangled with seaweed, face down, arms floating beneath the surface.
Kaye swam to her and tipped back her head, pushing aside hair to see the sightless eyes, smears of drawn whiskers still staining her cheeks, blue lips and open mouth, full to the teeth with water.
“She thrashed beautifully,” the kelpie said.
“No, no, no, no.” Kaye hugged the body to her, trying desperately to tip up the head. Water spilled out of Janet’s mouth as though it were a decanter.
“Why so sad? She was only going to die anyway.”
“Not tonight!” Kaye yelled, swallowing most of a wave she tried to bob above. “She wouldn’t have died tonight.”
“One day is much like another.”
“Tell that to Nicnevin. Someday you’re going to know how Janet felt. Everything dies, kelpie, and that includes me and you, faeries or not.”
The kelpie looked strangely subdued. It let out a huff of warm air. Then it sank down, leaving her alone in the sea, treading water, holding Janet’s body. Another swell came, pushing Janet’s body toward the beach. Kaye took one of Janet’s hands, no more chill than her own but frighteningly pliant, and scissored her legs toward the shore. As she swam closer, the waves grew larger and more violent, breaking over her. Janet’s body was pulled from her grip and tossed up on the beach.
She saw Roiben running toward the edge of the waves. He bent to look at Janet while Kaye struggled to her feet in the shallow water, the pull of receding waves still strong enough to nearly knock her off her feet. She coughed and spat out a mixture of saliva and sand.
&n
bsp; “Do you seek out peril? One would think that years of being a mortal would have made you more aware of mortality.” He was shouting.
And that had too much of the echo of her previous conversation in it.
He opened his coat and closed it around her, heedless of the wet clothes that dampened his own. Sirens wailed, and she could see flashing lights.
“No.” His hand cupped the back of her head before she could turn. “Don’t look. We have to go.”
Kaye pulled away. “I need to see her. To say good-bye.”
Ten steps across the wet sand and she dropped to her knees beside the body, ignoring the edges of waves that sucked at the sand around her knees. Janet had washed up like a piece of rubbish, and her limbs were thrown at odd angles. Kaye smoothed them out so that Janet was lying on her back, arms at her side.
Kaye stroked back red hair, touching Janet’s cold face with cold fingers. And in that moment it seemed that the whole world had gone cold and that she would never be warm again.
13
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, SONNET CXLVII
Kaye woke on the mattress in her bedroom, tangled in the covers, wearing only her underpants and the T-shirt that Roiben had borrowed the day before. Her head was pillowed on his bare chest, and for a moment she could not remember why her hair was stiff and her eyelashes were crusted together with a thin layer of salt. When she did remember, she pulled herself out of bed with a groan.
Janet was dead, drowned. Lungs filled with water. Dead. The word echoed in her head as though its repetition held some clue to its reversal.
Vague memories of the night before, of Roiben bringing her home, of him enchanting her grandmother to stop yelling as he led Kaye up the stairs. She’d screamed at him for doing that, screamed and cried and finally fell asleep.
Kaye padded to the mirror. She looked haggard. Her head felt heavy from crying, and her eyes were swollen with sleep. There were dark smudges the color of bruises under her eyes, and even her lips looked pale and chapped. She licked them. They tasted like salt.
