Bloody Fairies (Shadow)

by Nina Smith

  “I’ll pull the cart,” he said, beckoning Nikifor closer. “You two push. When the sparks start flying, get on and stay low.” He grinned. “Trust me, this’ll work. I thought of it myself. Are you okay, Muse?”

  “Fine.” Nikifor gripped the side of the cart and bent over slightly. His face had gone white.

  Hippy cast him a worried glance. “The vibe’s making him sick,” she whispered.

  Clockwork shook his head. “Stupid muses. Come on.” He picked up the shaft and pulled the cart away from the shed.

  Hippy and Nikifor leaned on the back and pushed. The cart was heavy. Hippy really had no idea how this was going to work, but the coffee was still making her blood race. She felt really, really good and definitely up for racing toward certain death by baby killer rose.

  They picked up speed when they passed the fountain. Then they faced a sea of killer roses grown into knee-high bushes. A low wind made the leaves tremble as far as the eye could see.

  “Hippy, the Apple.” Clockwork hopped onto the cart.

  Hippy joined him and handed over the sliver of Apple.

  “Stand back.” Clockwork strapped the sliver of glass into the skeleton’s wrist bones, right next to the conduit still held in the finger bones. When it was secure, he pushed it until it just touched. A spark flew out. “You two,” he said. “Think about speed. Now let’s go.”

  Hippy jumped down the back. “Think about speed,” she said to Nikifor.

  He took a deep breath. Sweat stood out on his forehead. “Speed,” he said.

  “Go!” Clockwork yanked the cart forward.

  They ploughed into the roses. The cart picked up momentum. Sparks exploded from the skeleton’s hand and rained down on roses turning their way.

  “On the cart!” Clockwork yelled. He jumped up, ran all the way across and hauled Hippy on. They both grabbed Nikifor’s arms and hauled him up too.

  Instead of slowing and stopping as Hippy expected, the cart picked up speed. Sparks continued to fly from the skeleton’s hand. The sliver of Apple glowed with bright white light.

  “It’s working!” Clockwork grabbed both Hippy and Nikifor and pulled them down low. “The Apple’s not only releasing the electricity in the conduit, it’s generating an electric field!”

  Hippy didn’t understand a word of it, but she whooped with excitement anyway. All around them she could see roses jerking and twisting toward the cart, only to be driven back and burned every time a spark fell on them. They sped under the arch and out into the endless garden. She hugged Clockwork. “You’re a genius!”

  “Keep thinking about speed. This is really working!”

  The cart hurtled through the roses. Sparks flew faster and faster. The forest sped toward them.

  Nikifor’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backward.

  “Nikifor!” Hippy grabbed him and dragged him away from the edge. She shook him. “Nikifor wake up!”

  “We need him!” Clockwork yelled. “The cart’s slowing down!”

  Hippy looked at the sea of roses behind them and wished she hadn’t. There was a blur of movement through the bushes. A flash of black and a glimpse of silver. Her breath caught. They were so close to the end of the roses. At least two of them could escape if the third provided enough distraction.

  She seized Clockwork’s face and kissed him hard on the lips. “Don’t look back,” she said. “No matter what. You have to go get my sister Ishtar and bring her back here. Run as fast as you can, they’re not planning to kill me until tomorrow.”

  “No!” Clockwork tried to hold her back.

  “Get my sister here.” Hippy jumped off the slowing cart and shoved it as hard as she could.

  The cart hurtled to safety.

  Hippy turned in the direction of the castle. The roses that had been reaching out for her pulled back.

  Rustam Badora, every inch of skin suited and masked, had been going so fast clods of turf went flying up around him when he skidded to a stop. He picked her up by the back of the shirt and dangled her in the air.

  “Apparently,” he said, “You’ve been a very bad Bloody Fairy.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Badora returned to the castle as swiftly as he’d left it. Hippy, clamped under one of his arms like a rag doll, spent the whole time with her hand pressed to her face to block out the acrid, metallic stink of vamp sweat from his armpits. By the time they reached the castle she was ready to throw up.

  The vamp strode inside, straight up the three flights of stairs and threw her to the ground at the muse king’s feet. “Your fairy.”

  Hippy landed on her knees. She looked up at Pierus.

  “I thought you were going to behave,” he said.

  “You never said how I should behave.” She tilted her head and studied him. “Don’t go getting all choked up over it.”

  His palm cracked across her face.

  Hippy raised her hand to her stinging cheek and glared at him. “That hurt!”

  “Get her off the floor.” He walked away.

  Badora hauled Hippy to her feet. He gripped her shoulders, bent down and spoke into her ear. “Do you remember my promise, Fairy? I said I’d kill you when you returned to Shadow. I’ll be dreaming of that moment tonight. The taste of your blood. The sound of your last scream.”

  “Shut up one eye, or I’ll pour fairy dust down your throat and make you vomit sparkles.”

  Pierus returned with a knife in his hand.

  Hippy flinched. “What are you doing?”

  “Something I’ve been wanting to do for weeks.” He grabbed her one dreadlock. The blade flashed, sliced through hair. Pierus tossed the dreadlock over his shoulder. “That should help tomorrow. I want a blushing, beautiful bride, not a little monster with knots coming out of her head.”

  It took Hippy a minute to realise what he’d done. When it finally registered that he’d killed her only dreadlock, she screamed and leaped at him.

  Badora grabbed her in midair and held her, kicking and screaming, inches out of reach of the muse king.

  Pierus put his face close to hers. Only then did Hippy see how truly furious he was. His skin was white and his eyes so deadly cold they could have snap-frozen every killer rose in the garden. “Where is Nikifor?”

  “Gone!”

  He spoke to Badora without ever taking his eyes off her. “Lock her up. I don’t want to see her until the wedding.”

  It was a long, long day. Alone in the bedroom with only the shiny dress for company, Hippy sat on the bed and thought about everything. She thought about Badora prowling the hall outside like a hungry dog, waiting for her to try to escape. She thought about Clockwork’s face when she gave the cart that last shove. She thought about Nikifor dying of the vibe. She thought about Ishtar’s warnings, about her mum and dad and her banishment from the tribe. Tears prickled her eyes. She thought about Poppy, waiting back in Dream to hear something. She thought about Mr Silver and his insistence that she was the only one who could save Shadow. He’d had faith in her. He’d been the only one who didn’t consider her a fumbling child. Right now, for the first time in her life, she wished she could be that child again, that innocent creature whose biggest problem was an overprotective family.

  There was nobody left here to protect her now. Not even Fluffy Ducky. At least Clockwork had the last piece of the Apple of Chaos safe and sound.

  She watched the light fade outside the window. Listened to the footsteps in the hall and the distant voices. She sat with her hand on her stomach, thinking about the child who would kill Pierus, and how that would never happen if she didn’t think of something before morning.

  She discovered her belly had developed a very slight curve. She wondered what the green-haired woman would think of her father. If she would turn out like him or be Bloody Fairy through and through.

  She fell asleep, exhausted and hungry, sometime after dark.

  Hippy woke with a start when the door burst open. Morning light flooded the room and Rust
am Badora’s mask filled the doorway.

  “Wakey, wakey, fairy. The muse king says you’re to make yourself beautiful for him. It’s your wedding day.”

  “I’m going to kill you today,” Hippy said.

  The mask remained smooth and expressionless. Behind it, Badora gave a low, amused chuckle. “Back at you, sweetheart. You’re really a very unlucky fairy. Are you sure you were just dropped on your head as a kid and not cursed outright?”

  The door closed. Hippy sat on the bed, eyes wide. Cursed? That was it. That was what she had to do. She’d seen it done. She knew she could do it, every fairy could. Pregnant fairies could curse best of all. She just had to get it right.

  She went and studied the dress. She stripped and pulled it on over her head. Folds of shiny, shiny cloth settled over her hips and legs, brushed her skin. The fabric sparkled. She tied her belt with its pouches around her waist and combed her hair. This wasn’t quite the wedding she’d dreamed of. She’d always thought her mother and sister would be there. At least there’d be Badora. A bit of vamp killing never hurt at a wedding.

  The door opened again. Badora looked her up and down. “You look good enough to eat.”

  “I’m going to make you sparkle brighter than this dress.”

  The vamp king walked into the room, rather forcibly linked his arm through hers and led her back out. “You can’t upset me today,” he said. “It’s far too special a day. I’ve been waiting to taste your blood for a long time.”

  “How disappointing for you.” Hippy lifted her skirt so as not to trip while she descended the stairs. She decided not to point out to him the dust holes her dress was burning through his coat.

  Pierus waited at the foot of the stairs. He wore a different suit than usual. It was dark blue and white, a tailored long tailcoat over wide-legged pants. His hair was immaculate. He smiled like a groom watching his bride approach, a sight that made her skin crawl. When she neared, he held out his hand. “My dear, you are a vision of loveliness.”

  Hippy smiled and placed her hand in his. “If Poppy was here, she’d shoot you.”

  Pierus led her to the centre of the entrance hall, where a circle of five fat candles burning on tall candlesticks gave the room an appearance of formality.

  Badora stood in front of them. He picked up a big, heavy book from the small table and cleared his throat.

  “Wait a minute,” Hippy said. “Where’s the bonfire?”

  “You don’t think I’m going to lower myself to such a crude fairy custom?”

  “But I’m a fairy. I can’t get married without jumping a bonfire.”

  “Once you’re married to me you’ll be a muse. Sort of. You don’t need a bonfire.”

  “Then what’s he doing?” She pointed at Badora.

  “Officiating.” Pierus jerked her closer to his side. “Since there’s nobody else here to do it. Count yourself lucky, my dear girl, we’re only performing the short version of the ceremony. Normally these things take days.”

  “Oh.” Hippy gave him a big smile. “Okay.”

  A flicker of suspicion crossed Pierus’s face. “Get on with it, Badora.”

  Hippy waited. She had to have the right moment. Really she could do it anytime, but a marriage ceremony was a serious thing. It required the raising of some kind of power, which would help. At least she hoped it would.

  Badora intoned several words Hippy did not recognise, but that sent shudders down her spine. Vampish always had. Cold crept into the circle. Her fingers tingled. There was power.

  Pierus sounded testy. “In words we can understand, Badora.”

  The vamp rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. In the name of Mnemosyne I pronounce you married.”

  “What, that’s it? Who’s Mnemosyne?” Hippy asked.

  “The Goddess of the muses. And my mother.” Pierus smirked down at her. He laid his fingertips on her face, but spoke to himself. “And now you are my wife, and you look at me just like Pandora did on our wedding day.”

  The tingling in her fingers spread to her skull. Hippy hoped Mnemosyne hated Pierus as much as she did. She broke away from him and sank to the ground. The skirt pooled around her. She laid her hands on the flagstones, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Yes, there it was. She could feel every current of power in the circle. The muse king’s magic, the vamp king’s deeply suppressed rage, the unformed energy of her unborn child.

  “What’s she doing?” Badora sounded concerned.

  “Hippy. Get up.” Pierus reached out for her.

  She opened her eyes and connected with his gaze. His sleeve brushed her shoulder, and where the fabric touched, turned to ash.

  Pierus uttered an exclamation and snatched his arm away. “She’s covered the dress in fairy dust!”

  “Pierus, king of the muses.” Hippy felt the power flow into her hands from the very castle floor. The candle flames around them flared and grew to three feet tall, casting deep shadows amidst the bright light. “I curse you to live in Pandora’s shadow until the day you die at our daughter’s hands. I curse your castle to fall into ruin around you. You will walk amongst mould and rubble.” She tilted her head, still holding his eyes. He looked like a big trapped snake. “And I curse you to wear the most hideous clothes you can find. Forever.”

  She stood up. The power streamed from her fingers. She took a deep breath and made the last part echo while she pointed all that power at the muse king. “In the name of every Bloody Fairy in Shadow, I curse you!”

  The bolt of power that passed from her to him almost knocked her off her feet. Then that power exploded outwards into the castle. Windows smashed. The stone under their feet cracked. Rocks showered from the roof.

  Pierus uttered a yell and fell to the floor when a rock struck him on the head.

  Hippy turned to Badora. “Play time.”

  Badora took the mask off and stared at her with his one eye. “What in Shadow was that?”

  “Fairy curse.” Hippy balled a fist and punched him in the good eye. The power must have been with her even then, because Badora went flying into the nearest wall.

  Hippy fled.

  “Stop her!” Pierus roared.

  She bolted down the stairs, around the fountain and straight out into the roses. She ran faster than she’d ever run. Her feet barely touched the ground. The Arch passed over her head. She set her vision on the distant end of the garden and ran for all she was worth.

  The leaves turned toward her. The first twig to strike tore her dress and turned to dust in her wake. Hippy ran harder. She leaped the tendrils and vines sent her way. She could see the distant forest. The smell of fresh, loamy mud tantalised her.

  Another thorny tendril tore her skirt and turned to dust. Then another, and another. The bottom of the skirt tattered into rags and shreds. She leaped and twisted and just barely kept ahead of the roses. A few more heartbeats and she’d be clear. She set her teeth. So close.

  There was a tiny sting on the back of her heel. Hippy leaped clear and landed on the other side, out of reach. She scrubbed the back of her heel in the wet grass and took momentary stock. Yes, she felt fine.

  She got up, picked up her skirts and ran for the forest. How far could Clockwork have got last night? Could Ishtar be on her way?

  Footsteps pounded the ground behind her. Hippy ran harder, but she was starting to flag. She needed to rest. If she could only gain the shelter of the trees and get a minute-

  A blow to her back sent her sprawling into the grass.

  Hippy rolled, jumped to her feet and faced Rustam Badora. He’d already moved between her and the forest. Mask and costume in place, protected from the sun, he carried Clockwork’s axe. “Time to die, fairy,” he said. “Pity you used all that energy cursing the muse king for nothing.”

  Hippy circled him. The short space of time allowed her to catch her breath. Her heart pounded. “Where did you get that axe?”

  “I took it off Nikifor yesterday.” He chuckled. “Most pathetic muse I ever saw.
I must say it’s been interesting to observe how the muse king beats the character out of his subjects.”

  “You think the vamps will escape what he has planned?” Hippy flexed her hands. “He’ll destroy everyone in his search for power. You know it. You tried to warn me.”

  Badora shrugged. “I have joined his cause. My people have everything we wanted. Territory and food. We’re simple creatures with simple needs, really.” He raised the axe and took a swipe.

  Hippy sprang out of the way. The axe embedded in the turf. She ran in under his arm while he retrieved it and drove her fist into his ribs.

  “What are you trying to do, tickle me?” Badora brought the axe in a wide arc toward her head.

  Hippy ducked under it and leaped onto his back. She closed her hands around his throat and dug her knees into his ribs. “Does this tickle!?”

  Badora jerked to try and throw her off. He flung himself backward, but she clung on. He clawed at her arms, but the gloves would allow him no purchase. His clothes turned to dust on his back everywhere the dress came into contact.

  “Oh my, where’d your nice coat go!” Hippy yelled in his ear.

  “Ow! Do you have to yell?” He flung himself again, then realised what she’d said. He uttered a whole string of nasty words and swung wildly with the axe.

  Hippy let go of his neck, grabbed the axe and used her feet to launch herself off his back and snatch the axe away at the same time. She landed on her back.

  The vamp twisted to come after her. His exposed back smoked. He regarded her for a moment, then pointed at the sky. “Overcast day,” he said. “You can’t kill me like that. Stupid Bloody Fairy.” He strode toward her.

  Hippy rose to her feet. The axe felt good and solid in her right hand. The left dipped into the pouch that held the very last pinch of fairy dust. “You’re so right,” she said. “But you know what?”

  “What?” He ignored the axe and reached out for her throat.

  “Today’s my wedding day.” She flung the fairy dust in his mask.

  Badora yelled and clutched his face. The mask crumbled.