A Fairy Tale

by Shanna Swendson

  “No!” His eyes were bright with tears. “I’ve been looking for her for seven years, and I’m not leaving her now that I’ve found her.”

  She hated to do this to him, but it was for his own good, as well as hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she reached into his mind and made him feel suddenly very tired, so tired that he needed to go home immediately. His eyes glazed, his eyelids drooped, and he sagged against her. Then he struggled away from her again, and she groaned. He was a husband who’d just found his long-lost wife and didn’t want to lose her again, so his will was strong.

  She pushed again to put him into a trance. “Okay, I’ve got him,” she said to Athena and Amelia. “Now we just need to get away.” She hoped they were up to some good defensive spells because it was taking everything she had to keep Michael from going after his wife.

  That was when the shield fell and the goons rushed at them. “Oh, dear,” Sophie murmured, wishing for once she’d learned something stronger to say in situations like this.

  Amelia and Athena were now fighting off attackers individually. A few of the free fairies put themselves between Maeve and Sophie, but some of the goons got past. Sophie didn’t think she had it in her to do any magic while she was controlling Michael, and she didn’t dare let him go because he’d head straight for his wife, and then she wouldn’t be able to save him. With the arm that wasn’t supporting him, she reached into her bag and grabbed her iron skillet by the handle. It was heavy enough to knock aside attackers, and because it was iron, any fairy who got hit stayed down. Soon, they learned to give her a wide berth.

  Athena and Amelia and a few of the free fairies had created a clear path for her, so she called, “Beau, come!” and headed for the stairs. Sophie couldn’t run with Michael’s weight on her. She glanced over her shoulder to check on signs of pursuit and saw several of Maeve’s people get past the enchantresses to launch themselves over the castle terrace wall and land with catlike grace on the ground below.

  Sophie tightened her grip on the skillet. She couldn’t outrun the fairies, she couldn’t use magic without losing her tenuous grip on Michael, and her only weapon was a cooking implement. This situation was almost as bad as a preschool ballet class with mommy separation anxiety.

  Then a sprightly woman in white with flowing white hair to match darted out from the trees, calling, “Here!” as she pointed to a gap in a nearby wall. Sophie wasn’t sure she and Michael together could fit through that small opening, but somehow they did, and then Sophie realized where they were: the Borderlands. She didn’t think they were any safer there, but at least their pursuers weren’t hot on their heels. Eerie sounds nearby made her heart beat faster. She’d never entered the Realm this way, but she’d heard about the things that lurked on the edges.

  To make matters worse, a group of fairies appeared ahead of them, and Sophie muttered a heartfelt, “Drat!” before recognizing Tallulah. She didn’t think Tallulah would join in the kidnapping, but why was she there? “This is not a good time. I’m kind of busy here,” she told the fairy. On the bright side, the eerie noises had ceased at Tallulah’s arrival.

  Tallulah walked straight up to her and touched her lightly on the forehead. “I have one more task for you. You must stop Maeve.”

  “That was my plan.”

  “Your plan was to rescue your sister, but even if you don’t achieve that, you must keep Maeve off the throne.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions on how to do that?”

  “You already have everything you need.” Her voice intensified. “Keep Maeve off the throne. If you fail, I will ask another payment, and you will not like it.” She gave Michael a long, appraising glance, then turned back to Sophie with a sly smile before gesturing for Sophie to follow her.

  Tallulah led them to a gateway, and they came out on the edge of the park, near the street. Sophie wondered how safe they really were. Would Maeve’s people dare leave the bubble of the market to go after them in the real world? She only let herself relax when they’d crossed Central Park West and Beau stopped growling.

  Her next challenge was getting Michael home. In addition to his emotional anguish, he seemed to be in physical pain, and his breathing didn’t sound good. She had his good arm draped across her shoulders and her arm around his waist, but the weight dragged on her. To make matters worse, she hadn’t changed out of her pointe shoes, and they weren’t designed for long walks. She’d have a mess of blisters after this adventure.

  Fortunately, his apartment wasn’t that far away and there weren’t that many people out to notice her half-carrying a man. Not that New Yorkers would care. They’d just think he’d had one too many and she was getting him home. Beau led the way down the sidewalk, dragging his leash. She wondered if that would count as adhering to the leash law. It wouldn’t do to attract police attention while she was hauling around an incoherent police detective.

  At Michael’s building, she paused to catch her breath before taking him up the front steps. She unlocked the door magically, then it took the last of her strength to get him up the stairs to his apartment, where the door flew open at a thought. Beau headed inside first, and she willed the door shut behind her. She got Michael to his bedroom and dropped him on the bed, found the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, and made him take one before arranging him into a more comfortable position.

  Only then did she release her control over him. He tried to sit up, calling out, “Jen!” but she pushed him back down onto the pillow.

  “Hush,” she cooed. “Easy, easy. Hush.” She sent a soothing impulse to him, and she felt the tension in him ease. Poor thing, she thought, sitting beside him and stroking his hair gently. Imagine, finding his wife again after all that time, and in that way. But how had he seen her? He shouldn’t have been able to see the market at all, nor anyone in it. When he settled down, she bent to remove her shoes, then flexed her feet and sighed with relief.

  “She didn’t even recognize me,” he whispered, drifting back into consciousness.

  “That happens,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sophie, what’s going on? What was that place?”

  “We’ll talk about it in the morning. You won’t remember anything I say right now.”

  “It’s real, right? It wasn’t all a dream?”

  “It was real,” she confirmed.

  He started coughing, and she propped him up until the coughing spell stopped, then settled back against the headboard with his head pillowed on her shoulder and her arms around him.

  He tried to get up again. “I have to go get her.”

  She pulled him back. “She won’t be there.” To distract him, she asked, “How did you two meet?”

  He relaxed against her. “I was working foot patrol. She had an audition, and she couldn’t find the place, so she asked me for directions. She got the part, so she found me later and said I was her lucky charm. Whenever she had an audition, she looked for me, and she got the part if she talked to me first. Then she invited me for coffee. She gave me a keychain with a four-leaf clover in it.” His voice trailed off wistfully. “I still carry it.”

  That explained it. Carrying a four-leaf clover was one way to see the fairies. “And coffee led to more?”

  “Yeah, it did. I proposed six months later.” He sighed. “And she’s been gone longer than we were married, longer than I knew her before she vanished. Maybe that’s why she forgot me.”

  Her heart broke for him. She felt tears trickling down her face. “No, that’s not it. She can’t help it, where she is. It’s not just you she forgot. I doubt she remembers who she is.”

  “They brainwashed her?”

  “Something like that.”

  He sighed again, deeply, and she felt the last of the tension flow from his body. The painkiller must have kicked in. “Is that where Emily is?” he asked, his words slurring even more.

  “Probably.”

  “Does she remember who she is?”

  “I
think so. She knows what to do.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know. It’s hard to understand. Now hush and rest. I’ll still be here with you.”

  He was silent for a long time, and she thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he said, “Sophie, who were those people?”

  “They were fairies. But we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

  His fingers folded around hers, squeezing as if he was hanging onto a lifeline. His breathing gradually evened. She wondered what she should do. She might be able to blur his memories so he would think it had all been a dream, but would that be fair to him?

  “Can you get her back, Sophie?” he asked after another long period of silence when she thought he’d fallen asleep.

  “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know. I’ll try, I promise.”

  She doubted he’d let her make him forget. He’d cling to this memory with his last ounce of strength. Which meant that she needed to be ready to teach Fairy 101 the next morning.

  Thirty-five

  The Cell in Maeve’s Apartment

  Later

  A scratching sound at the lock woke Emily. She raised her head from where it rested on Eamon’s shoulder and saw that he, too, was awake. “Looks like it’s go time,” she whispered, then she fought back a groan as she stiffly moved away from the wall where they’d been leaning. She grabbed the iron shackles from the far corner of the room and flattened herself against the wall next to the door. The door opened, and one of the guards stepped inside. She was about to swing the shackles when she caught the quick shake of Eamon’s head and held back. She saw why when Maeve appeared in the doorway.

  Emily swung out with all her might, striking Maeve square across the face with the iron. Maeve’s scream was so terrible it almost made Emily feel bad for her—but then she remembered what the shackles had done to Eamon and got over her pity. Even so, Maeve’s screams made Emily’s skin crawl. The sound bypassed her ears and went straight to her nerves.

  While screaming, Maeve rolled on the floor, clutching her face. Her guards rushed to her aid, and Emily took that as her chance to make a run for it. She moved to help Eamon up, but he was already on his feet. Emily took the lead, holding the shackles in front of her as a shield. She vaulted Maeve, fended off a guard with the shackles and found herself in the lobby, which was full of Maeve’s courtiers. She cleared the way to the front door by waving the iron. Fairies scattered, but the door was still guarded, and possibly still enchanted.

  Emma and Leigh, the other human captives, stood blocking the door, and the iron didn’t scare them. Emma looked particularly upset. She had tear stains on her face, and Leigh had a comforting arm around her shoulders. Upset or not, Emma stood her ground. “Her majesty didn’t give you permission to leave,” she said.

  “Why, you traitor!” Emily said with a gasp of surprise.

  “You’re the traitor! Her majesty has tried to be nice to you, but you’ve ruined everything. And now your horrible sister has made things even worse.” Emma’s voice broke in a sob, and Leigh patted her shoulder.

  Emily supposed she should have been touched by the woman’s tears, but all she heard was the insult against her sister. She might say a lot of things about Sophie, but nobody else was allowed to. “What did you say about my sister?”

  As upset as she was, Emma had the good sense not to repeat it. Iron might not be poisonous to humans, but it could dent a skull, and Emily was swinging the shackles like she really wanted to hit someone with them. “Something bad happened at the market,” Leigh explained with another soothing pat on Emma’s shoulder. “There was a man there with your sister, causing trouble, and he accused Emma of being someone else.”

  A man there with Sophie? That had to be Michael, and if he’d been shocked about a human woman with the fairies … She felt like she’d been shot in the gut as she realized that with a different hairstyle and a wedding veil, Emma would look exactly like that photo in Michael’s apartment. “Holy crap, you’re Jen!” she blurted. “So, that’s what happened to you! Oh my God!”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Emma/Jen shouted, “I am not! Stop saying that! I don’t know who this Jen person is, but that’s not me and I wish people would quit calling me that.” Which confirmed Emily’s suspicions.

  By that time, the guards had caught up with them. They surrounded her from a safe distance, unable to get their hands on Emily while she was armed with iron. She and Eamon were badly outnumbered, but she had iron and he could use fairy magic. She glanced over at him to see what he was doing and was shocked to see him escaping through the front door. The guards ignored him as they focused on her.

  That bastard, she thought. After she’d just saved his life. She’d thought they’d bonded. And now he was abandoning her? Maybe Sophie really was right about fairies. Of course she was. Sophie was right about everything.

  The guards closed in on her. She waved them away with the shackles, but she could only face one direction at a time, and while she threatened some of the guards, others snuck up on her from behind. She kept turning in circles, but she was getting dizzy.

  It was hard to concentrate on defending herself when she couldn’t get over what Eamon had just done. Maybe he’d gone to get help, she told herself, and she wouldn’t have been able to get through the door. Although she liked having company in captivity, he could do far more for her when he was free. He was merely being practical. At least, she hoped so. She didn’t like to think that he’d just saved his own skin while leaving her to rot.

  She lashed out at a guard who got too close, and then someone tackled her from behind. While she was on the floor, Emma came over and picked up the shackles. Emily felt betrayed all over again, so she struck back in the only way she could while the guards had her pinned down. “Your husband is my upstairs neighbor,” she said. “He really misses you.”

  “I have no husband,” Emma spat, turning away.

  The guards dragged Emily to her feet and marched her up the stairs to Maeve’s living room, where they shoved her onto the sofa.

  Emily had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from grinning when she saw the result of her handiwork on Maeve’s face. An ugly red mark marred the fairy’s perfect beauty, which had become much less beautiful the more Emily saw of her. Her mother was right: pretty is as pretty does, and someone as nasty as Maeve couldn’t be truly lovely, no matter how perfect her features were.

  “I am losing patience with you,” Maeve snarled. “I am sick of you and your sister and your inability to cooperate. Your arrogance astounds me.”

  Pot, meet kettle, Emily thought, but knew well enough to keep her mouth shut.

  “Apparently, I can’t count on your sister’s help,” Maeve continued. She leaned forward, looming over Emily, who forced herself not to shrink back. “You will have to do.”

  Maeve straightened abruptly, then whirled away to pace the room. “Tell me about your grandmother,” she ordered.

  That wasn’t what Emily had expected, but it seemed harmless enough. It shouldn’t hurt anyone, and any stalling she could do might give Sophie time to pull off whatever she was working on or Eamon time to get help. “You mean Nana?” she asked. “I don’t know her that well. She’s got Alzheimer’s, so she’s not all there anymore, and Mama says she was crazy even before that. Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?”

  “Did she ever teach you songs?”

  This had to be the weirdest interrogation ever, Emily thought. She shrugged and said, “Not that I can think of. She sings with Sophie. That’s how Sophie keeps her calm.”

  “Do you know their songs?”

  Emily shook her head. “Not really. I haven’t been home in years.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from flinching away as Maeve leaned over her, so close that Emily’s eyes crossed when she tried to focus on Maeve’s face. “Think about the songs. Try to remember. Your life may depend on it.”

  While Emily was catching her breath, Maeve
left.

  So, wait, Maeve had gone through all this trouble to get her hands on Sophie to learn a song?

  Thirty-six

  Michael’s Apartment

  Saturday, 6:30 a.m.

  Michael woke to the worst pain he’d experienced since he’d been shot. His chest throbbed, and the rest of his body didn’t feel so hot, either. He felt like he’d been in a big fight and come out the loser. When he finished assessing the aches and pains, he became aware that he wasn’t alone. His hand clutched another, smaller hand. It was the first time in nearly seven years that he hadn’t awakened alone.

  Then the events of the night before came rushing back, and he remembered why he hurt all over. He also recognized the irony of waking up with someone else the morning after seeing his wife again. Opening bleary eyes, he turned to see Sophie Drake lying next to him, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable in sleep. She lay on her side, facing him, her right hand under her pillow and her left hand in his, one leg bent and the other stretched, her toes pointed even in sleep. A stray curl lay on her cheek just on top of the faint bruise on her cheekbone.

  Then he noticed that Sophie’s eyes were open and watching him. “It’s early and we were up late,” she murmured sleepily, her eyes fluttering closed. “Go back to sleep.”

  She’d thrown a blanket over him, but she lay uncovered, so he moved the blanket over to cover her, too. He hadn’t thought he could get back to sleep, but the next time he woke, it was nearly eight thirty and Sophie was sitting up and stretching, catlike.

  He lifted his head from his pillow, then let it fall back when it proved to be too much effort. “Did I have a really weird dream last night, or did something strange actually happen?”

  She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her bent knees. “I have no idea what you dreamed last night, but yes, you stumbled into something that must have seemed really strange.”