by T C Shelley
When morning came, Woermann remained awake, pacing up and down in the kitchen. Sam couldn’t get to the cellar. They’d had one chance and Sam had blown it.
Woermann collected Sam for breakfast, his cat smell ripening. It was stronger than the day before and Woermann had sprouted more hair, so his cheeks and forehead looked fuzzy and black. He took Sam to the kitchen, and the boy ached. His friends were a door and a few steps away.
‘You’re gold to me,’ Woermann said.
Woermann pushed Sam into the bedroom and locked the door behind them. He pulled up a great chair and proceeded to catnap, but whenever Sam moved, the man would jump.
After three forced and miserable conversations, Sam stopped trying to get up. He watched television and looked out the window.
‘It’ll take forever,’ Wheedle said, looking at the ground.
The fields had turned from soft and pliable dirt to complete bogginess. Wheedle and Spigot were up to their bellies in mud, their legs struggling to move forward. A solid yet wet path was half a field-length away. Bladder’s wide, flat bottomed paws made it easy for him to find supportive dirt to walk across, but Wheedle’s half-hoof, half-toes stabbed into the ground and caused his legs to sink with every step. Spigot was little better; he had only two legs so he was sinking less often, but it took half an hour for them to move out of the shadow of the tree they had settled under the night before.
At least the sun had come out and shone with hot abandon on them. The monsters had gone to ground, avoiding the sunlight, and the horrible hunting sounds had disappeared.
Bladder looked at the path, back at his pack. The smell of Sam had washed away with the night storm. They had been pointing in the direction of the monster field, which looked more mashed and mushy than the one they were in, but that was the direction Sam’s scent had come from last night, before they went dormant.
‘Just stay in a straight line,’ Wheedle said.
‘Do you think we’re pointed the right way? What if I’m out?’ Bladder stared at the fence line.
‘The air is drying quickly and you’ll pick up on him again. We can’t be off by much. His smell was strong last night. He’s no more than a mile or two away.’
Spigot raised his head above the mud and shrieked.
‘I hope you’re right,’ Bladder said.
‘Well, either way, you can’t do anything just sitting here and wondering. You’ve gotta beat Maggie to the punch, and no point waiting for us. We’ll take too long,’ Wheedle said. ‘Go and find him. We’ll catch up. Hopefully, this dries up soon.’
Bladder nodded. It was wet, it was dreary, it was a pain to slurp through mud, but Wheedle and Spigot were safe for the time being, and they knew enough to hide themselves if night came again and the monsters returned. He touched nose to nose, nose to beak, and turned to the path.
‘Just tell him we’re not far behind, all right?’ Wheedle said as Bladder stepped his way across the mushy soil. ‘And get to him before Maggie does. And whoever Woermann’s working for.’
Woermann’s great cat smell filled the space. Sam sat with hands folded in his lap watching some show about robots. Woermann’s watch beeped and he lurched out of the chair. His body took up so much space as he moved to the door. He smiled at Sam, and his teeth were large and yellow, every tooth sharp. He seemed to have swollen to twice his previous size like an infected boil.
‘Enjoying your stay?’ Woermann asked. He leaned over Sam and purred.
Sam’s breakfast threatened a hasty return from the bottom of his stomach, and he swallowed a few times to encourage it to stay put.
‘I’d rather go home,’ Sam said.
Woermann’s furry hand slammed the sofa cushion next to Sam and a growl built in the man’s throat. ‘We have business. Get up!’
Sam shot off the couch and towards the window. The man’s humanity was fading. He stared at Woermann. ‘What business?’
The great cat grinned.
‘We’ve got company,’ he said. His eyes sparkled and his heavy body bounced like a kitten’s. He turned to the door. ‘She’s here.’
Woermann unlocked and opened the door. ‘Come on!’ he commanded. When Sam didn’t obey and backed towards the window, Woermann launched into the room, seized Sam’s arm and dragged him into the corridor.
‘Don’t be afraid, boy, she says you’re the key. Although she’s a wild thing.’ Woermann tittered. ‘Can you smell her? She’s pure magic.’
Sam didn’t know whether he wanted to go, wanted to see Maggie, or if it was just the effect of dust – it was so overpowering, even Sam felt giddy with it.
He wondered how Maggie had managed such huge quantities of dust. It made her unstoppable. What did Maggie want with him? To harm him? Not the Maggie who’d carried his soul like a baby inside her, but the Maggie who wanted a monster-ridden world.
He wanted to run to her. He wanted to run away.
Woermann shoved him down the stairs, then to the front of the house, the fairy dust so thick it called to him, as if it knew he was made of dust.
The cat man giggled, his eyes full of dust and tears. It made his black fur sparkle like a clear night. Woermann pushed open the drawing-room doors and forced Sam into the room ahead of him.
The room was full of creatures, brightly coloured, dancing in the air, reds, yellows, blues, oranges. Squat forms squished on the couches, eating cupcakes and crackers from a buffet table. Others lay on the floor, their faces sticky with sherbet and toffees.
Sam had seen fairies in some of Beatrice’s books, and there were some of those delicate, dancing creatures filling the air around him, but others were tall, green and languid as trees, others made of rivulets of water with crowns of dewdrops, while yet more appeared to be stone and metal with sapphires for eyes.
They gave off so much colour, filling the room with a reflection like spilt petrol, reds from almost pink to almost black, blues from ink to off-white.
They all had that beautiful fairy scent. All of them, except for a very short creature in a three-piece suit standing on a stool.
The creatures formed a circle around a woman dressed in velvet black. She stepped towards Sam, her arms out; a fine, golden crown sat atop her red hair. ‘Samuel,’ she said. She smiled, then spread her wings.
Sam didn’t know if he should be relieved it wasn’t Maggie.
Woermann had called her a queen. Her orange-and-black wings made her stand out like a dark star against a rainbow.
The little man in the three-piece suit bowed to the queen. He righted himself and announced to Sam, ‘Her Majesty, Queen Titania.’
Sam stared.
‘Better bow, son,’ Three-Piece said.
Sam bowed. The queen smiled.
A group of tiny green fairies flittered into his face. He sneezed and his eyes watered.
‘Nature fairies; they make a lot of people do that. If you were the full fairy, it wouldn’t, but you’re a bit human, intcha?’ Three-Piece said. ‘Anyone got an antihistamine spell?’
A second sneeze gathered at the back of Sam’s nose as another fairy sailed past him. Her wings flittered and covered him with fine blue dust. It smelt of the air high above the ground.
The sneeze dissolved and Sam’s eyes stopped itching.
‘Your Majesty,’ Woermann said. His arms spread wide as he brushed past Sam to bow.
She put out her hand for the man to kiss. He did, with slobbering lips; an attendant passed her a handkerchief. ‘What is your will, Woermann?’
Despite this terse response, Woermann giggled, his hands padding at the sparkles in the air around him. He looked at the queen again. ‘I got the thing you wanted.’
‘What is’t?’ the queen asked.
Woermann smiled. He had something this fairy wanted. He looked around as if he had forgotten. ‘Him.’ He pointed at Sam. ‘I have delivered as promised, and I believe you promised me something in exchange.’
‘Truly?’ The queen peered at Sam.
Woerma
nn giggled again and leaned forward. He put his hand to his mouth as if to whisper, but spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him. ‘I think he may have let out some of the shifters.’
Shifters! That was right, Sam thought, as the antihistamine spell began to unmuddle his mind. This was all about shifters. When Sam had thought Maggie was involved in the kidnappings, he knew it couldn’t be good, but now he was confused. He studied Woermann’s face. He looked as drunk on dust as a human could get, but the queen’s face was clear and thoughtful, kind even. Why would the queen of Faery be working with Woermann to kidnap shifters? Why would the queen of Faery want shifters in the first place? He pictured the orb down in the cellar with his friends. What did she want the souls for? Or Sam himself, for that matter?
The queen stared at Woermann. ‘Verily? And you know this? How did Sam free the beasts?’
‘I’m not really sure,’ Woermann replied, his head bobbing from side to side.
‘So, you have been careless with your duty and wish to make another wear your failings?’
‘Ummm,’ Woermann replied. He grinned again and batted at a passing fairy, who squealed as it sailed away too fast. Sam was sure Woermann had forgotten Queen Titania had spoken.
‘Well, Samuel is reward enough, so I will still pay you, Woermann.’ The queen waved a hand and a group of tiny metallic fairies flew forward. They hummed mechanically, as if clever hands had constructed them down to the whirring cogs in their wings.
They carried golden roses. Countless blooms. Sam couldn’t resist reaching towards them. The shiny fairies turned to allow him to touch the flowers, and Woermann snickered. Sam slid his thumb along a petal and its metal edge sliced into the meat of his finger. It was real gold. Woermann’s dark eyes stared at Sam’s budding blood, and he licked his pasty, dry lips.
‘Mine, mine, mine.’ Woermann grabbed the roses and grinned, sitting back on the couch and dislodging a group of tiny apricot-coloured fairies as he sniffed the metal blooms.
‘Get thee gone, Woermann, before the dust addles you further,’ Queen Titania said.
Three-Piece clicked his fingers and four tree-like fairies each took an arm or leg and carried Woermann out of the room. Sam heard the man and his bunch of roses drop to the floor in the foyer.
Three-Piece clicked his finger again and someone carried over a winged chair. The queen slid into it.
‘Samuel, set thy heart at rest, thou shalt remain here. None shall harm thee,’ the queen said. ‘I know Woermann is a rough merchant, but he has his uses.’
Three-Piece jumped off his stool and pointed at it. Sam didn’t want to sit. He was wondering if he could make it to the window.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Three-Piece said.
Sam looked at the short creature. ‘What are you? You aren’t a fairy?’
‘Elf. Christmas elf. Don’t like the cold, so I work security for Her Maj. The name’s Edgar.’
Edgar motioned for Sam to sit. Sam shook his head and a figure made of blue water shoved him down on to the stool.
‘You see us, Samuel, we are multitudinous,’ the queen said. ‘Nature fairies, small and delicate, working with all the elements.’ The metallic fairies giggled as if this were a joke to them. ‘There are those of us born of Titans.’ She gestured to the loping, beautiful creatures peering at Sam from near the fireplace. ‘And our smaller, more human-sized kin.’ A lady curtsied to Sam.
‘Oh,’ was all Sam could think of to say.
‘You have caused much mischief for all our kind, Samuel.’
‘I have?’
‘You have. Tell me true, Samuel, did you free the monsters and the old witch?’ The queen stared at Sam. ‘You know her as Maggie. ’Twas you, was it not?’
‘You let the monsters and that witch Maggie go, didn’t you, lad?’ Edgar translated.
Sam stared at his feet. It was him all right.
The queen put a pale hand on Sam’s knee. He could smell her, and understood that her dust was of her, fresh and alive. Maggie’s dust was the leftovers, beautifully kept, but nothing like this. It was like smelling living blooms after perfume. Perfume was lovely, but after smelling the true thing you would never mistake it again. Queen Titania’s magic smelt real and raw.
‘Your looks will do as confession,’ Queen Titania said. ‘Now, you must see what your actions have wrought, my friend. Edgar, summon my Lord Marinell. Let us show what Mistress Maggie has done.’
‘You’re guilty as sin,’ Edgar said to Sam. ‘Now, Her Majesty wants you to look at Lord Marinell to see what the witch is doing to fairykind.’
A young man in a doublet and breeches stepped forward, his face flushed at the interest of the other fairies. One of his wings was red-and-gold brocade, but the other was beaten and damaged. Sam could see clear knife lines where someone had cut it and scraped the dust.
‘’Tis no shame, Lord Marinell, you gave for your people,’ Titania said.
Lord Marinell hung his head.
‘Maggie did that?’ Sam asked.
‘She did. Never did you see such a sad sight. The witch has grown in power, and she snatches at our young and fragile. To keep her at bay for a season, Marinell sacrificed his own beautiful wing for the scores of lives she threatened, but with such power she becomes more mighty and steals them anyway. And we must stop her.’
‘Lord Marinell gave his wing dust so Maggie wouldn’t nick any of the young ones. She’s bally powerful now with all the dust she’s collected,’ Edgar translated.
Lord Marinell stepped back into the crowd.
‘Only you can fix it, Samuel,’ Queen Titania said.
‘Me?’
‘’Twas a bewitched sword kept the monsters at bay?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And you broke it.’
Sam nodded.
‘We forge a similar weapon to replace it.’ Titania patted Edgar’s head. The small creature grimaced. ‘Sorely it grieves us all to do such a thing.’
‘We’re making a weapon just the same, full of souls and powerful enough to force the monsters back into The Hole,’ Edgar explained.
Sam knew which weapon they meant. The orb in the cellar, the one full of shifter souls. He paled.
‘There, there.’ The queen patted his knee. ‘Maggie steals our kin and collects their dust. She intends to create hordes of beasts, more than already roam the surface. If she succeeds, then neither fairy nor human will have sanctuary.’
‘Sanctuary?’ Sam asked Edgar.
‘The witch is collecting as much fairy dust as she can, to make more monsters. If she figures out how to turn dust into monsters, then no one’s safe, not fairy, not human. You better do as Her Majesty says.’
‘Verily, it is so,’ the queen agreed.
She looked so sad about everything.
‘What can I do?’ Sam asked.
‘When the weapon is completed, you must return it to The Hole. Souls kept them trapped down there for centuries, and so souls must restrain them again.’
‘You know you can’t just go around stealing people’s souls. People die without their souls,’ Sam said.
‘Not the twin-souled, my sweet. The twin-souled live well enough with one soul, and we have done our best to comfort them. They are sealed inside fairy dust, it makes them happy enough,’ she said. ‘When the orb calls them in, they cannot leave.’ She picked up an oyster and it disappeared between her rosy lips. ‘And the twin-souled are not dead. We set them free once a half-soul is taken. We’re not murd’rers, Samuel.’
Sam felt sick. He remembered what D.I. Kintamani said: shifters had returned, crazed with misery, ranting, some of them, and no longer really shifters. ‘That’s not true. They might not physically die, but they aren’t ever themselves again.’
The queen sighed and looked so sad, it must hurt her to have to steal the souls. ‘’Tis costly, no doubt, but you must choose, we all must choose, between all lives or a few souls.’
The fairies and Edga
r became quiet. All Sam could hear was Woermann in the corridor giggling to himself and scratching at the walls. It was an eerie sound.
Queen Titania stared at Sam, then picked at a plate. She plucked up a dark mussel between two fingers and slurped it down.
‘Do you know the word “meat” was just another word for “food”, Samuel?’
‘Sorry?’
‘A long time ago, I forget exactly when the word was first used.’ Titania put her finger into the pâté bowl and scooped a fingerful of pâté into her mouth. Woermann had put out crackers but she left them untouched. ‘Humans meant “bread” when they asked for “meat”. Hay was meat for horses, slop was meat for pigs.
‘A troll visited upon an inn one night and demanded meat. Foul days, dark days those were. The innkeeper offered bread and ale, but the troll would have none. The innkeeper offered the great monster slop and hay too. He offered stew made from one or two chunks of something that had once bled, but what the troll meant by meat was something with a lively juice he could suck out.
‘They were foolish, or else they knew exactly what he wanted and tried to satisfy him with lifeless morsels. If they’d given him the horse or the pig, mayhap they would have lived. When the next travellers came by, they found only a boy still alive amongst the bones, no older than your form suggests. It was that boy who taught them what to offer a troll or an ogre when the monster demands meat. That is why the word refers to only one type of food now.’ She popped the last of the pâté into her mouth and wiped her hands on a napkin Edgar held for her. ‘Help us or the world will return to such darkness.’
‘You might not like our plans but we’re way less evil than monsters,’ Edgar translated.
CHAPTER 18
Queen Titania studied him. ‘Oh, Sam, you have most wondrous loyalty in you. For the humans and even a little for Maggie – I see it in your looks and I can hear the heavy beat of your heart. What will make that heart mine? What can I do to make you loyal to me?’
Queen Titania rose from her seat and put her hands out to him. She looked so regal and stern, Sam took them. ‘Come away with me, Samuel. I’ll show you the world you save.’
