Feyland: The Complete Trilogy

by Anthea Sharp

  “Tam? How will we know when Mom is home?”

  “She’ll hang a yellow shirt up in the window. If she hangs a red one, we’ll know she’s there but it’s not safe.” If she could understand the hints he’d left in his note. If she made it home at all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  That night Tam’s sleep was broken again by the low call of the Wild Hunt’s horn, the baying of demon hounds. They seemed closer this time, and he hunkered down in his sleeping bag and tried to think invisible thoughts. Not here. Nobody here.

  Cold light was leaking into the sky when he finally fell asleep.

  The Bug woke him up early, asking where they were going to go that day. For a moment, Tam thought about dropping him off at school and spending the day sleeping. But no - they had to keep together and out of sight for another day or two. The Bug was way too conspicuous, and the system could easily get to him at school. All it would take was one call from a teacher and, poof - little brother whisked off.

  He was not going to let that happen.

  So he pried his eyelids open and dug up a couple protein bars for breakfast, then took the Bug to the mall. Peter amused himself by looking in the windows of all the stores, and talking about everything he saw. Even though the money was running low, Tam bought them both ice-cream bars.

  If - he swallowed hard - if Mom didn’t get free of the system, he’d need to get a job. Not the errands he ran here and there, but something more serious. A steady job, that also gave him time to look after the Bug.

  Sure. And money would just drip down on him from the trees, too.

  At least there weren’t any cops around at the mall. He didn’t message Jennet, though he wished he could. Wished he could dive into Feyland with her and fight free of everything, the two of them emerging strong and victorious. Wished he could tell her how crappy his life was, how tired he was of being the glue in his family. Wished he could take her hand and touch the softness of her hair. He needed to feel something soft, in a life that was so full of hardness.

  But the messager stayed at the bottom of his bag, silent and dark.

  His sleep the next night was filled with restless dreams. The Dark Queen, so beautiful she made his breath freeze, stood before him.

  Tamlin, she whispered, in a voice like smoke and snowflakes. She reached out, and her hand was cool on his cheek, her fingertips tingling along his skin. I am waiting for you.

  His body yearned forward, but his feet were rooted fast. Frustration climbed up his throat. Why couldn’t he go? He was ready, more than ready to obey her summons.

  Laughter chimed about him, a shimmering silver light that coalesced into three faerie maidens, dancing. They pulled scarves made of cobwebs and moonlight behind them. Whenever one brushed against him he felt it, bright and aching. The touch made him shiver with fear, with longing.

  The queen stood farther from him now, watching from the shadows, her eyes luminous with mystery. I am waiting.

  Tam wrenched forward, but the faeries were gone. Instead, the Black Knight was coming at him, his sword raised. With a shout, Tam lifted his hand, unsurprised to find his own sword there. The two blades met with a furious clang - and he was suddenly awake, heart racing, in the darkness of their makeshift shelter.

  A different kind of noise jolted through him - a clatter of metal. The alarm he had cobbled together, a precarious balance of metal scraps across the door, had fallen. Beside him he felt the Bug stir, and he knew his brother was awake, too, and listening.

  He groped under his pillow for the knife. Slowly, silently, he drew it out and shifted his grip on the handle. Breath barely stirring in his lungs, he listened. No footsteps. No light. No sound.

  Wait. A skittering across the cracked cement floor. A faint rustle. And then laughter, impish and otherworldly. There was something familiar about that chiming sound.

  Tam sat up. “Who’s there?”

  A pale spark lit in the center of the room, then grew into a ball of light, cupped in Puck’s hand. The sprite sat cross-legged in mid-air, his clothes like tattered oak leaves. Tam heard the Bug draw in a quick breath full of wonder.

  “Greetings, mortal boys,” Puck said. He grinned, sharp and feral. “What fancies invade your sleep?”

  “I think you know.” Tam didn’t loosen his grip on the knife. “How did you get here? I thought faeries couldn’t cross over to our world.”

  “Three days before All Hallow’s, the boundaries grow thin. You have been touched with elfin magic, Tam Linn, and so I come to you. I bring a warning, and an answer.”

  A warning. Like he needed the sprite to tell him they were in trouble. On the other hand, Puck had helped them in the goblin caves.

  “What is it?”

  Puck stood and floated forward, coming to hover a foot in front of Tam’s face. It was hard to tell for sure, but there was a blurring behind the sprite, as if he had wings moving ten times faster than a hummingbird’s.

  “The queen has marked Fair Jennet for her sacrifice,” he said. “Yet in the darkest moment trust your heart, Tam Linn, and make the hero’s choice.”

  Whatever that meant. The sprite was as oblique as ever. Tam blew his breath out in an exasperated gust. “Great. Thanks.”

  Quick as a blink, Puck zipped close to Tam’s face and gave his nose a painful tweak.

  “Ow! Hey.” Tam brought his hand over his face. “That wasn’t funny.”

  The sprite’s chiming laughter was joined by the Bug, and Tam divided his glare between the two of them. He should have known his little brother would enjoy the faerie’s tricks.

  Puck floated slowly back, the ball of blue light glowing in his palm. “Farewell, mortal boys. Rest well, for the Hunt seeks elsewhere this night.”

  Were they after Jennet? Tam rose to his knees. He had to -

  “Tam?” The Bug’s voice held a plaintive note.

  Right. His brother. He sat back down. Even if he could convince Puck to stay around, he didn’t think the sprite would be a very good choice of babysitter.

  “I’m here,” he said. “Not going anywhere.”

  The sprite looked at him, with luminous, knowing eyes. “Heed the old ballads, Tam Linn. Your lady awaits.”

  “Wait. Which lady…” Tam began, but Puck was gone. Between one breath and the next, he had vanished. Only the afterglow of his light remained, printing blue sparks on the back of Tam’s eyelids.

  “What was that?” the Bug whispered. “Was it magic?”

  “Yeah. It was magic. You’re dreaming, in fact. Now go back to sleep.”

  “But if I’m dreaming, how can I go back to sleep? I’m awake, Tam. Really I am.”

  Tam let out a low, quiet breath. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, ok?” And maybe, if he were lucky, his little brother would believe that it had all been a dream.

  Tam woke early. The morning air was cold, and he hunched down in his sleeping bag, hoping he could fall back asleep. His thoughts were whirling too much for that to happen, though.

  Worry for Jennet circled, trading places with fear for Mom, and the looming shadow of the uncertain future. A future on the streets, looking after the Bug - a future where every night the Wild Hunt rampaged through the mortal world.

  At least he could do something about that second worry. And he’d figure out a way to do it today. After school got out, he’d take the Bug over to Marny’s. She owed him a couple favors - enough that he could get the rest of the afternoon free. He and Jennet had to get back into Feyland.

  I am waiting. It was a cobweb whisper through his mind.

  Did the queen have the power to send the Black Knight after him? Was that what his dream had been about? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Win or lose, he and Jennet would face the queen. Today.

  They had better win. The consequences of losing were too dire. Chill air snagged in Tam’s lungs. He would do whatever it took to keep Jennet from harm - even though the Dark Queen whispered in his dreams.

  “Tam? Are you awake?
” The Bug’s voice was slow and sleepy.

  “It’s still too early, Peter. Close your eyes.”

  “Don’t want to.” His little brother pushed out of his nest of blankets and sat up.

  His brown hair spiked out in funny tufts from his head, and Tam tried not to smile. Although - his amusement dimmed - they didn’t have any running water to clean up with, and Tam had forgotten the hairbrush at their house. Pretty soon the two of them would look, and smell, like the dregs of the Exe. He was already starting to feel that way. Grime and hunger and tiredness had a way of gnawing at you, like a feral dog with a bone.

  “Ok then.” Tam rummaged around in the pack by his bed. He pulled out two more protein bars and handed one to his brother. “Breakfast.”

  “Ew! I’m tired of protein bars. Can’t we have eggs instead?”

  “Look around you. Do you see a stove? A fridge? Don’t be an idiot.” Impatience made him snap the words out.

  The Bug was quiet. Then a sniffle escaped him. Ah, damn. Tam scooted over to his brother and pulled him into a rough hug.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish we could have eggs, too.”

  “I want to go home. How come we can’t just go home?”

  Tam sighed and forced himself to speak gently. Inside, his own eight-year-old self was kicking his heels and demanding the same thing.

  “I told you yesterday,” Tam said. “If we go home and they decide Mom’s not well enough to get out of jail, then they take us and send us to a State Home. And that would be even worse than this.”

  “Wouldn’t we get eggs there?”

  “If we did, they would be grey and slimy. Trust me, Peter. Hang in there. We just have to play fort here a little bit longer.” Please, let it be the truth.

  The Bug’s shoulder’s drooped. Then he shot Tam a curious look. “Hey. What was that little guy, last night?”

  Damn. He was hoping his brother had forgotten about Puck’s visit. “What little guy? You must have been dreaming.”

  “I wasn’t! Tam—”

  “Tell you what.” Tam gave the Bug’s shoulders a final squeeze, then folded the empty protein bar wrappers and stuck them in his pocket. No reason to leave trash around that showed they’d been sleeping there. “Let’s go by our house and see if Mom has left the signal yet.”

  He was sure she hadn’t, but he’d rather deal with his brother’s disappointment than his questions.

  “Ok,” the Bug said, scrambling out of his blankets.

  They went quietly through the broken streets of the Exe. Fog hung in tatters, with no promise of burning off. A shambling figure blocked one alley, forcing them to make a quick detour, but nothing more dangerous appeared. Even the yellow-eyes down the street were silent.

  Tam squished down the stupid hope that tried to spring up in his heart. Mom wouldn’t be home. And even if she was, there was no guarantee it would be safe. No use wishing for a yellow shirt hung in the window.

  “Tam!” The Bug tried to whisper, but his excitement was obvious. His hand tightened in Tam’s, squeezing hard.

  Tam blinked up at their window. Blinked again. His heart squeezed too, like the Bug’s grip had traveled into his chest. There, in the window. A yellow shirt.

  “Come on!” The Bug started pulling him across the street.

  “Wait. What if it’s not really Mom? What if someone else figured out my notes? What if—”

  “Sheesh.” The Bug dropped his hand and pelted up the stairs, with all the confidence of a kid whose world has been restored. He flung the door open and disappeared inside.

  Tam followed. He stepped carefully over the rotten tread near the bottom of the stairs. Hope wrestled with fear, like two epic monsters equally matched, teeth and claws ripping into him. He hesitated at the threshold.

  “Tam. Honey.” His Mom’s voice was warm and soft and smiling.

  She knelt on the floor, her arms around the Bug, and she looked good. Unafraid and peaceful, the way she hadn’t for a long time.

  Tam gave the rest of the room a quick glance. No authorities lurking in the corners, no hard-faced counselors ready to take him and his brother away. Just the three of them. Their family. Tears, hot and heavy, reared up at the back of his nose. He sniffed to keep them from spilling over.

  Maybe things were going to be okay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Two days. Two days. Jennet couldn’t get the words out of her head. Halloween was the day after tomorrow. Where was Tam? Was he all right? She hadn’t heard from him in too long.

  “Miss Carter. Pay attention please.”

  She jerked her gaze to the front of the classroom. Mr. Davis, the ever-grumpy math teacher, was pointing at a problem on the screen, clearly expecting her to solve it.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Admitting her mistakes made her squirm, but it was better than trying to fudge her way out of them. Feyland had taught her that much.

  “I expect more than that, young lady.” Mr. Davis scowled at her. Then he leaned forward, as though he were seeing her for the first time. “Go talk to the nurse at lunch. You’re not looking well.”

  No kidding. Every morning for the last week, a paler and thinner Jennet had looked back at her from the mirror. Getting up was hard - she felt as though she hadn’t slept at all, tiredness weighted her bones so heavily. And last night….

  She shivered. Last night she had heard The Hunt, close and insistent. The cry of hounds and horns had woken her, and she had spent the rest of the night curled under her blankets, clutching her old teddy-bear.

  The teacher was obviously waiting for a reply, so Jennet nodded. “Yes, Mr. Davis, I’ll do that.”

  Not that the school nurse could do anything.

  She needed Tam. Needed to get back in-game. Needed to face the Dark Queen and defeat her, once and for all. If only she didn’t feel so weary.

  Getting from one class to the next left her out of breath. By the end of the school day, she felt bruised and exhausted. At least she was so slow the hallways had cleared by the time she made her way to the doors.

  It was grey outside, and cold. She pulled her coat closer and took small sips of the air. If she breathed too deeply, she’d get a coughing fit.

  The grav-car was waiting beside the curb. As soon as George saw her, he jumped out of the car and opened the side door for her. Wow. She must look even worse than she’d thought.

  “Miss Carter?” His words burbled, as though he were speaking underwater.

  The sidewalk stretched and wavered in front of her, and she suddenly had no balance. Was she flying? Was she floating?

  Then strong hands caught her, clasping her upper arms and keeping her from falling. She stumbled forward, and landed against Tam’s chest. Tam. Thank the universe.

  She closed her eyes, and felt his arms slip around her. Warm. Safe. He smelled of fresh soap and, faintly, the dust of the Exe.

  “Tam,” she mumbled. “I was so worried. What were you—”

  “Sh. I’ll tell you later. Come on, let’s get you in the car.” His voice held a tender note she’d never heard before.

  She pried her eyelids open, and saw Tam exchange a look with George - a look of concern and mutual understanding, as though she were highly breakable. She would have objected, but it was too hard to think of the right words.

  Tam lifted her onto the seat, and she saw George nod at him.

  “Tam’s coming with us.” It came out a whisper, but she needed to be sure they understood.

  “Of course, Miss,” George said.

  “I’m right here.” Tam took her hand. “No worries.”

  Fear hammered through Tam’s chest as he studied Jennet. Dark shadows smudged under her closed eyes, her skin was translucent, and she weighed barely more than air. No wonder the barriers between the worlds were growing thin. The Dark Queen was obviously sucking out Jennet’s energy, and fast.

  They had to defeat the queen. Today.
<
br />   They should have done it earlier, that much was clear. It was his fault that Jennet was in such rough shape - but there was no time for regrets now. Only action. And he had done what he had to, made the only choices he could.

  The grav-car slid to a stop in front of Jennet’s house, and the driver turned back to look at Tam.

  “Perhaps we should summon an ambulance.” George’s voice was concerned. “Just in case.”

  Tam swallowed hard. They had to get in-game as fast as possible - but George didn’t know what the hell was going on, or how that would help. All he saw was Jennet, looking like she was thinking of dying.

  “Ok,” he said. “But it’s not an emergency.” Yet.

  “Then I will call a non-emergency team in.” There was a touch of wry humor in the driver’s voice, as if joking about it would keep the fear at bay.

  “You do that. I’ll take her upstairs.” Tam brushed the back of his hand over Jennet’s cheek. She felt as soft as the sky. “Hey,” he whispered, “Wake up.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, pale blue, and she took a deep breath. “Are we there?”

  “Almost.” He knew what she was asking. Not if they were at her house, but if they were in Feyland. “You up to walking?”

  Behind her eyes, he saw determination. Saw her summon her strength. “Yes. Just…”

  He helped her, one hand under her elbow, one at her back. Balanced her as she got out of the car, supported her while she stood on the walk. He tried not to act like he was half-carrying her. It must have worked, because George gave them both a relieved look.

  “I’m still making that call,” he said.

  “Good.” Because there was always a chance that he and Jennet would lose. Not that Tam would give that thought any room in his brain.

  Gently, he turned her toward the house. As soon as the door closed behind them, she teetered. He swept her up in his arms. Good thing she didn’t weigh much.

  “Hey,” she whispered.