by Leah Cutter
Dale rolled his eyes. Really, Nora was such a drama queen sometimes.
“Look, don’t tell anyone,” Nora whispered urgently. “But I have to leave town.”
“Kostya isn’t that much of a threat—” Dale started.
“Listen to me, you idiot. A woman warned me this morning. Another Maker. Said that there was a monster preventing my teachers from getting to me. Said that it killed Grandpa Lewis and Grandma Lilly. And all the teachers that had so far been sent to me.”
Nora was scared. The last time Dale had seen his sister so scared had been…never. She’d been more pissed than scared when she’d come to rescue him in the fairy kingdom.
“Shit, Nor,” Dale said. “It’ll be okay.” He couldn’t put down his box and give her a hug, so he did the best he could, turning and awkwardly bumping shoulders with her.
“I don’t know who this thing is, who it’s masquerading as. Neither did Mrs. Wentworth, the woman. So you can’t tell anyone,” Nora said. “I’m going to have to run away. Disappear.”
Dale blinked, then nodded. “All right. What do you want me to do?” He probably couldn’t fight this magical monster—he didn’t have any magic himself. But he would help his sister anyway he could.
When Nora threw her arms around Dale’s shoulders, he automatically complained, “Hey, watch it!” Dropping the clock would break it, and then he’d be out money, instead of owed it.
“Just act normal, for now,” Nora told Dale. “And don’t tell anyone, anyone, that I have to leave.”
“Yeah, right, like either of us were ever normal,” Dale commented. “Ow!” he added as Nora punched him in the shoulder. She was always stronger than she looked.
“Be home tonight, okay? So we can talk then?” Nora asked, the fear creeping back into her eyes.
“Sure,” Dale said. “After I stop by the newspaper and announce your departure.” This time, he ducked and managed to avoid her fast-moving fist. “We’ll figure this out,” Dale assured Nora. “And I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mom. Promise.”
“Thanks,” Nora said. A shriek erupted from behind her, through the open door of the store. She grimaced. “I gotta get back.”
“See you later tonight,” Dale promised.
“Later,” Nora said, slipping back into the store.
Dale had no idea what kind of monster was after Nora. It had killed their grandparents? He found a lump of grief in his throat that he swallowed down. It felt as though the sunny day had just grown cloudy, and the ocean wind had changed from playful to annoying.
Whoever it was, they would pay. He and Nora would see to it.
* * *
“What do you mean, no?” Cornelius thundered at Imogene and Gideon. His voice echoed off the mismatched walls in the private royal chamber, the top half painted a pale ivory, with delicate gold vines and ivy decorating it, while the bottom half was a deep blue. Cornelius had never felt comfortable in the formal council rooms where Adele had kept her bone-white throne. He held private meetings, instead, in the little side rooms next to the throne room.
“The dwarf has returned! We must defend our kingdom!” Cornelius continued. How could the council turn down his request?
Then again, Cornelius had never asked to be crowned. He was merely the leader of the fairies, not the king. He couldn’t command the resources his predecessors could. Not for the first time, he wondered he’d made a mistake by not pushing himself forward more.
“The dwarf has only possibly returned,” Imogene countered. “We don’t know for certain.”
“And the amount of workers’ time that you’re asking for—it’s shameful,” Gideon added. “We don’t want to repeat what happened when Queen Adele stole the resources of the kingdom, redirecting them to her great machine.”
“Our people are happy in their jobs,” Imogene said. “With their comfortable lives. Why do you want to stir everything up?”
“Our people are dying,” Cornelius told them yet again. He rose off the backless couch behind the desk he’d been sitting at and paced, his wings folding and unfolding, agitated. How could they not believe him?
Despite his pacing, Cornelius still saw the look exchanged by Gideon and Imogene. Did they already know? Had the priests approached them as well?
“Our people wax and wane, like the moon,” Gideon said in his most pompous tone, looking down his nose at Cornelius. Like the other royals, Gideon was very tall and his wings were very large. He was also thinner than a starved sapling. Cornelius remembered that Adele had always disparaged the fashion, calling the look weak, as if a strong wind would blow the royal over.
“Advise me, then, my closest counselors,” Cornelius said, calming himself and staring hard at the pair of them. “If our people are waning, how do we get them to wax again?”
The pair of them exchanged another look. They had a plan. Cornelius knew it.
But they’d let their people suffer, let them die, and never lift a finger, until they ruled.
“Get out,” Cornelius ordered them. “Now.
“You’re being irrational,” Imogene said, walking closer to Cornelius. “You need to calm yourself.”
“While Queen Adele may have been a warrior, and so impetuous in the extreme,” Cornelius said, walking back to his broad desk and seating himself, “she never forgot that we were once fierce. I think it’s time we all remembered that, don’t you?”
Cornelius folded his hands on top of his desk and beamed at the pair of them. “I’m calling for a midsummer bonfire. Outside. Everyone will be required to attend. In fact, I think we need a series of bonfires. Every quarter moon, starting tomorrow night, at the full moon. What do you think?”
Imogene and Gideon stared, gaping at Cornelius. “Outside?” squeaked Gideon, finally.
“Your recent trip has left you unbalanced,” Imogene declared.
“Or it invigorated me, reminding me what it means to actually fly, to stretch my wings in the open air, to find the heart of me,” Cornelius countered.
“You’ll never get approval,” Gideon declared.
“Don’t need it,” Cornelius said expansively. “All I need are some volunteers—probably from the warriors—to gather the wood together for the fire. And maybe you’re right. The first few bonfires won’t be required. I’ll just announce them, let people join in the fun. You do remember how to have fun, don’t you?”
Cornelius bit his lips together at their indignation, as well as to prevent himself from grinning. He remembered Queen Adele throwing a similar insult at the pair of them.
Sputtering, Imogene and Gideon finally left. Cornelius breathed a sigh of relief.
Dancing on beach, with the wild waves and the leaping flames, would help his people find their fierce hearts. From there, it wouldn’t take more than a few strategically placed rumors to get the people insisting, no, demanding, that the royals take care of the problem presented by the dwarf.
It was all just a game, and Cornelius played it better than any.
Chapter Five
Garung gaped at Ramit. “Brother? Is that really you? What are you doing here?”
Ramit was skinnier than Garung remembered, and darker, too, as if he spent all his time in the sun. He didn’t wear any clothes, either, just leaves and petals. His fingernails were broken and dirty, his feet were bare, and his arms were scratched. He sat on a traditional toadstool in the center of a bowl-like clearing. Ringed around him, on the edges, stood other fairies, some whom Garung recognized from their original troop, many whom he didn’t.
Garung folded his wings and buzzed toward Ramit. He’d thought his brother was dead. Garung had written a soliloquy, as well as composed an epitaph for his grave stone. damn it. Yet all the while, Ramit was here, laughing in the moonlight? Sitting under the stars?
“Whoa, whoa,” Ramit said.
Garung pulled himself back. Ramit wasn’t telling him to wait, was he? Then Garung looked over his shoulder, where Ramit was staring. Warriors stood there, barefoot a
nd bare-chested, painted in traditional red stripes, their spears all pointed at him.
“What kind of a welcome is this, brother?” Garung asked quietly.
“You can come forward,” Ramit said, gesturing again for Garung come closer. “They’re just…twitchy. You know how warriors get. I told them to let you through, but you know how warriors listen.”
Understanding slowly dawned on Garung. “These are your warriors. You’ve set yourself up as king.” He made himself not add the next words, though from the way Ramit narrowed his eyes, he suspected his brother heard them anyway: A petty king.
“And I suppose after your grand journey, you actually went back to the other kingdom, back underground,” Ramit sneered.
“Of course I did! That’s what we were supposed to do!” Garung said, exasperated.
“No, brother, no,” Ramit said. He sounded sad. “Did any of the other troops return?”
Garung shook his head. “I suppose they all formed their own kingdoms,” he said bitterly.
“Of course they did. I can’t believe you didn’t. Or do you really prefer living a half-life, sheltered, underground?” Ramit asked.
Garung stared at Ramit. “You were always wild,” he said. “You know you broke our mother’s heart, right?”
“Pffft,” Ramit said. “Don’t lie. She barely noticed we were gone. She was too busy with her studies and her poems to ever bother much with us when we were growing up.”
“She was never the same when you didn’t return,” Garung assured his brother. Which was mostly true. She did claim to miss arguing with Ramit.
“But come. We shouldn’t fight. Let’s dance together in the moonlight, then feast until dawn,” Ramit said, rising off the odd toadstool he sat on by spreading his wings.
Garung took a closer look at Ramit’s former seat. It wasn’t an illusion: It really was a toadstool, grown to monstrous size. But it was already fading. It had been forced to grow to this height quickly and now was collapsing under the weight of the cap.
Ramit had known they were coming. They hadn’t had a lot of warning, but enough to prepare this clearing, his seat.
“Who have you been talking to in the kingdom?” Garung demanded as he flew up to the same level as his brother.
“Some secrets should remain secret,” Ramit said. “At least for a while.”
“Until?” Garung asked. He’d been a student long enough to recognize a test, or at least a riddle, when he heard one.
“Until you decide if you’re going to join us,” Ramit said breezily. “Come!” He flew up higher, spreading his wings wide. “Let’s dance!”
Garung heard the unspoken words: Or you decide you’re against us.
* * *
Denise hadn’t been surprised by the knock on the door. She didn’t have her mother’s intuition about such things, but she still knew she’d have visitors that day.
She’d just expected it to be Cornelius, the fairy. She’d been expecting him, and was looking forward to talking with him about her daughter’s training.
“My daughter says you should call me Mother, or the mother,” Denise instructed the creature in front of her. He wasn’t as ugly as Cornelius, but there was something about his smooth face that she didn’t trust. The dwarf had the same golden eyes as the fairy, with slits instead of round pupils, as well as the same ridged nose. But there the similarities ended. This creature had crooked eyebrows, a villainous-thin moustache, and just a few hairs sticking out of his chin instead of the proper beard that she’d thought all dwarves would sport.
Denise found herself unconsciously reaching for the bracelet her daughter had insisted on giving her the night before. Kostya’s eyes were drawn to it immediately.
“Yes, my daughter warned me about you,” Denise said. “As did Cornelius.”
“You know the fairy lied, right?” Kostya said. “He was responsible for the death of Queen Adele. Not me.”
There was still something about Kostya’s face that Denise didn’t trust. He was trying to look sad, as if he mourned this Queen Adele’s death, but he wasn’t in full control of the muscles or something. The grimace he gave looked fake.
“I don’t believe you,” Denise said firmly. “You’re not welcome here. Stop bothering me and my family.” Had she heard someone else say those words before? They sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite recall.
Kostya rocked back on his heels and just studied Denise for a moment. “Ah, I see,” he finally said, nodding. “What’s in your pocket? Can you show me? Please?”
“I don’t see why I should show you anything,” Denise said defensively, even as she found her fingers reaching for the small green agate. “This isn’t a riddle contest,” she joked weakly as her hand continued moving. She tried to make it stop, but she couldn’t.
Nora’s bracelet was supposed to protect her, wasn’t it?
Denise slowly turned her palm over and showed the dwarf the agate.
Faster than Denise realized Kostya could move, he slapped her hand and the agate went flying. Racing after the stone, Kostya stomped on it, grinding it into the driveway with his large boots.
Denise found herself taking a deep breath and straightening up. Memories from the previous morning flooded back. She remembered now just how ugly Cornelius had been, how he’d frightened her. Why had she been thinking about welcoming that creature into her house? About begging him to teach Nora magic?
Now Denise remembered. Nora had said not to touch the agate, but Denise had put it into her pocket anyway.
“What was that thing?” Denise asked, pleased that her voice wasn’t as shaky as she felt.
“Fairy magic,” Kostya said, spitting. “It made you more susceptible to suggestion. That was why you showed it to me. You would have done anything the fairies asked you to.”
Denise shivered. She wouldn’t have done anything—she’d never hurt her children. No magic could have made her do that.
But the dwarf was right in that she would have let Cornelius into her living room. She might even have told him her real name if he’d asked.
“Thank you,” Denise told Kostya. He was uglier now. The stone must have been blinding her to the creature’s true nature.
“You’re welcome,” Kostya said, bowing his head. “Now, you owe me a debt.”
Denise couldn’t help but laugh at the poor, delusional creature. “All I owe you is my thanks,” she corrected. Just because he’d destroyed a stone didn’t mean that she owed him anything.
“Ah, yes,” Kostya said. “Well, then, could I ask a favor? Remind Nora who was there when she needed help. And that while I might have not taught her the right order of the knots in her magical knotwork, I did teach her the right knots. My aim was merely to slow her down. I didn’t lie to her.”
“You taught her the knotwork?” Denise asked, touching the bracelet again. It gave her a sense of comfort despite the fact that it proved that her daughter really was magical.
“Yes. As I’m sure there have been others,” Kostya said dismissively. “There have been others, haven’t there?” he asked casually.
Denise debated telling him the truth. Nora hadn’t said as much, but Denise knew her daughter.
Nora had been looking for a teacher, expecting one. And one had never shown up.
“Then tell Nora I also know who the creature is who has kept her teachers away,” Kostya lied. “And I’ll only tell her if she deals fairly with me.”
“I’ll tell her,” Denise said. She had to. Though the thought that there was another creature out there, one that Nora didn’t know about, chilled her. “Now, goodbye.”
“Until we meet again,” the dwarf said smugly.
Denise slammed the door in his face, but it didn’t bring her half the satisfaction it should have.
Not when she’d been so fooled, so…so enspelled previously.
These fairies were more dangerous than even Nora realized, Denise was certain.
* * *
D
ale didn’t feel like continuing on to Betty’s shop, but he’d called and said he would be coming. He didn’t want to get the reputation for being unreliable. That would be disastrous.
Particularly since he’d never told Nora, or anyone else, that his fondest dream was to go get training, then come back here to live.
Nora would just call him hidebound and stuck in his ways and okay, maybe he was a little like that. He liked order and precision.
But he’d really come to love the sleepy little tourist town they lived in, much better than LA. Yeah, he knew he should really move away. He’d be safer from the fairies if he lived somewhere else. Though Nor couldn’t tell him if fairies lived in other parts of the country. Maybe they were everywhere. So maybe he’d be safest here, with fairies he already knew.
It was a theory, at any rate.
The door to Betty’s shop gave a cheery ring as Dale stepped in. Despite how he liked things clean, he still didn’t mind the scent of old, dusty books that overwhelmed the store. Shelves filled to overflowing with knickknacks covered the walls. The center of the store was just as crowded, as was the lighted, locked counter at the front.
“Hey, Betty,” Dale called out to the older woman standing behind the counter. She wore her spinster, cat-eyed glasses today, the pair in faux leopard print. She wore her gray-and-brown hair up, and a red dress that Dale was sure if he asked her about it, she’d tell him it was vintage. “Whatcha got there?”
“Surprise box from eBay,” Betty said, smiling up at him. “Oh, is that my clock?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” Dale said, carefully handing over the box.
“Thanks.” Betty walked directly to the cash register and pulled out a fifty. “Will this cover it?”
“More than,” Dale said, swallowing hard and nodding. “Thank you.” Betty was always so generous with him. She’d fed his college fund a lot. She wouldn’t let him give her a proper invoice, though he always prepared one for her.
“Want to see what I got in the box?” Betty asked.
“Uhm, sure,” Dale said, resisting the urge to look around. He’d been hoping that Leslie would be in the store today.
