She reached the door and touched the knob, but it wasn’t hot. In her school’s fire safety training, she’d learned that a hot knob meant fire was on the other side. If the stairs were on fire, there would be no way out of their apartment.
She turned the knob and pulled the door open, gulping in a great breath of fresh air. Behind her, that same air fed the flames. Suddenly, she was on her face with a big weight on top of her. Heat roared overhead.
“Are you okay?” Dad said in her ear. “I tried to warn you, but you opened the door too fast.”
“Yeah.” Her voice came out as a dried-out whisper. Hands reached out through the smoke that now blanketed the stairs outside, and she found herself in Tarl the mud man’s gigantic grasp.
“Hold still, little girl. I’ll get you out of here.” He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. “Zeke, you behind me?”
“I am. Knot, run ahead.” Her father’s voice was reassuringly strong.
Keelie watched the cat dash down the stairs as she left Heartwood for the last time-upside down, over Tarl’s shoulder, bobbing in time to his rushed stride down the stairs. She saw Knot pause to look up at Heartwood, then run into the woods.
“I’ve got to reassure the trees,” Dad said. Immediately, his soothing tree speak calmed the trees around them and Keelie realized that their panic had fueled hers. She tried to add her calm to his, but found only fear within.
Tarl set her down, coughing, by the trees at the other edge of the clearing, then ran back to Heartwood. A crowd had gathered and she was surrounded by concerned voices, but she brushed away their hands and turned to watch the fire.
Hob was at the edge of the crowd, looking up in wonder, the flames dancing in his shiny eyes.
Something about his expression reminded Keelie of someone else, but she couldn’t think of who, because she suddenly remembered the Compendium. The one and only, the record of all elven magic, entrusted to her so that she could learn from it. It was under her bed.
She ran back toward the steps, her lungs hurting from the smoke and the effort. Hands grabbed at her, but she twisted away and ran up the stairs. She only got halfway up before her father’s arms grasped her and pulled her away.
“The Compendium,” she cried. “Dad, I have to save it.”
“It’s too late, Keelie. It’s not worth your life.” His voice was rough, as though he’d smoked his way through a million packs of cigarettes.
She kicked free and turned to head back up the stairs, but the greedy fire was now leaping from tread to tread and wrapping around the handrail like a flaming garland. If she’d gotten to the top, she would not have been able to leave again. She backed away, her heart squeezed tight in her chest.
Heartwood, her father’s beautiful shop, seemed like it was being eaten by a flaming monster. The fire licked up to the trees, and their cries of fear echoed once more in her head. The whole forest was roaring in alarm. Above her, the branches were trembling with the weight of the bhata who’d come to watch.
Water poured onto the fire from the other side of the building and, through the crowd, Keelie saw that Sean and his jousters had dragged up a portable water tank and compressor. But the water wasn’t on Heartwood. They were wetting down the trees and the roofs of the other shops to protect them.
For a second she was angry; then she realized that they were right. It was too late for Heartwood.
The crowd gasped as the front of their apartment fell into itself, folding like a cardboard toy. The roof caved down so that it looked like a floppy hat resting on the ground. Keelie’s knees seemed to dissolve and she found herself sitting on the ground. Legs and long skirts swayed around her, and the trees shrieked in her mind.
As if it was a nightmare revealing itself in flashes of memory, Keelie saw the fire brigade abandon its quest. The wooden roof shingles glowed like rows of coals before tongues of flames licked up around them.
Janice appeared in front of her, face made rosy by the reflected firelight. “Honey, let me tend that cut.” She gestured toward Keelie’s head. Something tickled Keelie’s forehead and she rubbed a hand over her face, wincing as she touched a sticky, sore spot. Her hand came away wet with blood. It seemed as black as the soot that coated her skin.
Janice started to dab at her forehead with a wet washcloth. It stung, but not too badly. She felt something in her other hand-a heart-shaped wooden frame that held her second-grade school picture. She was missing her two front teeth, but her grin was still broad. She looked at it for a moment before she remembered grabbing it off the floor.
The Compendium was gone, but she had saved this. All of Dad’s beautiful furniture was destroyed, including the beautiful counter carved from a single great trunk, but she had her second-grade school picture. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, dripping from her face.
“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” Janice said. “I promise I’ll be done soon, and then I’ll put a nice salve on it to take the pain away.”
Keelie wanted to tell her that nothing could take the pain away, but she was beyond words.
six
An hour later, Keelie was wrapped in a quilt, freshly showered, in the apartment above Janice’s shop.
“This tea will soothe your throat.” Janice placed the steaming mug of tea next to her on a little table (mahogany, from Belize).
“Thank you,” Keelie croaked, her throat raw, as she sipped from the mug in between her hands. The scent of smoke still lingered in her hair despite having shampooed it several times in Janice’s shower. She wished Sean were here to hold her and tell her it would be okay. He was still with the jousters, making sure the fire at Heartwood was out.
The herbal tea soothed her frazzled nerves a little as she inhaled its earthy goodness. Knot sat in her lap, drooling and making biscuits on her legs. She was so glad to have him next to her, she didn’t care-he could make all the biscuits he wanted and drool on her as much as he cared to.
“Meow.” He nestled next to her in the chair and placed a paw on her leg.
“I know, buddy. I’m glad to be here, too.” She scratched behind his ear. She heard the din of the crowd of faire workers outside, gathered to discuss what to do about no Heartwood. The whole faire seemed to be gathered on the road to the hilltop.
“Hey kiddo, how you feeling?” Raven made her way through the crowded little room and sat opposite her on a trunk.
Keelie dropped her head back against the rocking chair and pulled Janice’s quilt tighter around her shoulders, as if it could keep the world away and make her safe.
Janice sat in the corner of the small room, the glow of the lantern casting a soft light on her. She’d wrapped her arms around herself, and her lips were pursed in worry.
Sir Davey appeared in the doorway of the apartment, a flask of coffee in his hand. “Lass, I have the thing that’s going to perk you right up.”
“I gave her tea with a special herbal remedy to keep her calm. The last thing the child needs is caffeine.” Janice’s usual good humor seemed to have vanished.
“Caffeine will settle her nerves. Everyone knows herbal tea will jack her up, and she won’t be able to sleep.”
Keelie almost smiled. It felt good to have them looking after her. “I think I need some herbal tea and some coffee,” she said.
Sir Davey walked over to her, concern glinting in his chocolate-colored eyes. “Lass, you gave us all a scare.”
“Meow.” Knot dug his claws deeper into her leg.
Sir Davey scowled at him. “Let the girl have some peace and quiet after all she’s been through.”
“Where’s Dad?” Keelie asked.
“He’s over at the elven compound trying to calm everyone down. They’ve got their robes in a knot and their pointed ears stuck inside their eyeballs.” Sir Davey shook his head in disgust.
“Sounds like their normal reaction.” Keelie shrugged and then caught another whiff of smoke. Would she always smell like a grill? “What’s their problem? The fire was far awa
y from their buildings.”
Shepherdess, where is the angry little tree? asked one of the sycamores that bordered the path. Will the fire consume him?
The treeling is fine, Keelie responded. Hob the mask maker rescued it and took it to his shop.
It is afraid, shepherdess, and we can do nothing to stop its fear that the fire will eat it. It’s beginning to convince the other trees that they are in danger from the dragon.
“I’ve got to go.” Keelie pushed aside the quilt. Dad had gone into uber tree shepherd mode, but the little aspen tree was her responsibility. Even afraid, it was a troublemaker.
Keelie closed her eyes and opened her telepathic pathway to Dad. Dad, I need you to meet me at Hob’s shop. The goblin tree is freaking out, and it’s affecting the other trees. I need your help.
I’ll meet you there. She caught a glimpse of a deeply shadowed hillside forest.
Hob had been wonderful during the fire, and afterwards. He had saved the little goblin tree, and Keelie couldn’t imagine why it didn’t feel safe now. She’d heard that Hob appeared right when the fire started and went straight for the tree, dragging its container to safety.
Keelie disentangled herself from Knot. He hopped down to the floor and looked up at her. “Meow?” He raised his kitty eyebrows.
“I need to meet Dad at Hob’s shop.”
“You need to rest.” Janice stepped forward.
“I agree. Keelie, you’ve been through too much,” Sir Davey said. “I know you feel keyed up, but if you try to sleep you’ll feel much better.”
“There’s no choice.”
Keelie suddenly remembered Cricket. Waves of guilt washed over her. Was he okay? She hadn’t thought of him. Her stomach knotted with sick fear as she imagined the little goblin abandoned, trapped in the fiery apartment.
“Have you seen Cricket?” she asked Sir Davey, who exchanged glances with Janice.
Janice inhaled. “No one has seen your little creature.” She couldn’t seem to bring herself to say the word goblin. She didn’t care about a creature she couldn’t see.
“I’m sorry we have no news, lass,” Sir Davey said. “I think the little goblin may be safe, though he’s a darn nuisance. He’s resourceful.”
Keelie took comfort in Sir Davey’s words. Cricket was always taking advantage of opportunities to eat. She’d probably find him safe in someone’s garbage. Yet she couldn’t help but worry about him. She’d check with Dad and Vangar and see if they’d seen him.
Outside, Keelie gagged at the smell of smoke and burnt wood. She swallowed back bile and lit one of the lanterns Janice kept under a table by the door, then made her way toward Wood Row, where many of the booth owners had gathered in little groups, fear clinging to them as they discussed the fire. The faire was their livelihood, and the blaze was not as scary to them as its cause.
She overheard snippets: “irresponsible blacksmith”-“Vangar was wrong”-“the new faire director is incompetent.”
Keelie hurried by, hoping no one noticed her. She didn’t want to talk to anybody about the tragedy of losing her home. Of losing Heartwood. Knot ran ahead, diving from tree to tree and skulking behind corners as if he was on the hunt, protecting her.
The bhata jumped from branch to branch as they followed her, watching. It wasn’t just the humans who were upset and fearful. Beneath the layer of fear that cloaked trees and fae and people, Keelie sensed another disturbance upsetting the balance of the faire and the surrounding forest… but she couldn’t tell what it was.
The feithid daoine buzzed above her. All of the fae had been rattled. Knot swatted at several of the bug fairies as they dive-bombed him.
Keelie snapped her fingers to get Knot’s attention. “Come on. Dad is waiting at Hob’s shop.”
Knot hissed.
“Yeah, I know you don’t like him,” Keelie said. “Jealous.”
Keelie’s steps slowed as she walked up the path that led to the shop. She didn’t want to see the burned ruins of her home. Something rustled in the bushes nearby, and she heard a deep, whispered, “Keelie. I need to talk to you.”
Fear rushed through her and her heart pulsed super fast. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Vangar straightened and stepped out from behind the bushes.
“Why are you here?” Keelie hissed, but Knot ran up to the blacksmith and clawed his leather boots, a sign of affection.
Keelie would’ve liked to claw the blacksmith’s eyes out. “Hob was right-your forge was dangerous.” Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked, embarrassed to show weakness in front of the dragon who had destroyed Heartwood.
He shook his head in denial. “I need your help.”
Keelie stopped breathing, as if afraid that smoke would fill her lungs. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“My forge didn’t start the fire. I’d put safety spells around my shop so that the fire couldn’t escape. Someone with a lot of power removed them. I’ve been set up, and Finch said that you would be fair-minded and help me clear my name.”
“Finch told you to ask me for help? Me? I don’t have a bed, or clothes, or schoolbooks, or-or-” Tears clouded her vision, again. Keelie was going to have a long discussion with the faire director.
Vangar looked forlorn and lost. “I was sent here to protect you. Do you think I would set your house and store on fire? My honor is all to me. I would not harm my charge.”
Keelie shook her head, trying to make sense of what Vangar had said. “ Who sent you to protect me?”
“He forbade me to tell you.”
“So, it was a he?”
Vangar’s face clouded over with confusion and anxiety.
“Whatever. My dad is waiting for me at Hob’s shop.”
“It was that little pissant that set me up.” Vangar hissed, smoke blowing from between his clenched teeth. “He’s the one behind the fire.”
Aghast, Keelie stared at Vangar. “He’s been nothing but kind and helpful. How dare you accuse him?”
“Think about it. He set me up. First, he was the one who convinced everyone that my forge was a fire hazard. “
“Because your forge was a fire hazard. It took no skill to get people to believe it.”
“But I have the magical ability to stop fire,” Vangar said between clenched teeth. “I’m a dragon. If I’d been home, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“I’ll keep an open mind.” Keelie forced the words out to appease the blacksmith, who seemed to be walking a bridge between reality and buggy-buggy land. “And I’ll keep an eye on Hob,” she said. “I need to go.”
He swept his hand forward as if guiding her up the path. “Be on your way, milady, but keep this conversation between the two of us.”
Keelie edged past him, then blinked as he vanished into the bushes. Finch definitely had a lot of explaining to do.
Outside Hob’s shop, Dad was waiting for her. “Where have you been?”
“I ran into some people who wanted to give me their condolences on the fire.” Keelie made a quick decision not to tell her father about Vangar or how he’d asked for her help in proving his innocence-not for Vangar’s sake, but because Dad had enough on his mind. Vangar had given her something to think about, and his words troubled her.
Dad nodded. “It’s been a shock to the entire faire. Everyone wants to help.”
Now she’d lied to her father. Her home was a pile of smoldering debris. Keelie choked back tears as silvery smoke streamed up from the wreckage. She couldn’t believe she’d been put in this position. Strange, how the smoldering remains of Heartwood remained confined in a circle. And that Hobknocker’s, with its fragile paper masks, had been unaffected.
Hob stepped out onto the porch, cradling the potted goblin tree in his arms. “Here you go, Zeke. I admire your dedication to your plants.” He lowered the tree down onto the front steps leading to his shop. “Are you sure you want to take it tonight?”
Dad motioned toward Keelie. “Since the little tree is the on
ly thing left of Heartwood… ”
“Yes, I missed it so much. I couldn’t spend another night without my tree.” Keelie sighed sadly, not faking, although her sadness wasn’t related to the angry and ungrateful beast of a tree.
The little goblin tree sent Keelie angry red thoughts. You lie. You don’t care about me. Nobody cares about me.
She smiled at the goblin tree, Hob, and Dad to mask what she was truly feeling, which was to toss the treeling onto the hot embers. You’re lucky to be alive. You’re going with us whether you want to or not.
Green-red anger seethed within the little tree. Keelie sensed the goblin taint flowing its sap like venom, slowly poisoning it with dark magic. She had to find a way to get it out before it got out of hand.
I know a secret that you don’t know, and when you find out, you’re going to die. They want you dead. All of them, for what you did.
She didn’t know what the little tree meant, so she ignored its ranting.
Dad picked up the tree and waved good night to Hob. “Thank you again for your help.”
“You would’ve done the same for me. I’m sorry about your loss, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it was Vangar who did this.”
Dad didn’t look over at the smoking ruin of what had been their shop and their home. “I don’t think it was Vangar who started the fire.” His voice weary. “We appreciate your help, Hob, in alerting the other shopkeepers to the fire.”
“Despite your generous spirit, Zeke, Vangar is the guilty party, and the other shopkeepers have complained about his forge.” Hob lifted his handsome face, and in the light glowing from within the shop defiance glinted in his eyes.
Hob definitely had it in for Vangar.
“Keelie, let’s go.” Dad’s voice was hard and crisp. One of the little goblin tree’s branches slapped Dad across the face. He didn’t flinch. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with trees would’ve assumed it was a breeze that made the branch move.
She followed Dad into the trees. She had no idea where they were going.
Once they were on the bridge, out of sight of the shops up the hill, Dad put down the pot and grabbed the goblin tree by its uppermost branches, letting the clay pot dangle over the edge of the bridge.
The goblin's curse sos-3 Page 6
