The Maker, the Teacher, and the Monster

by Leah Cutter

  After stomping back and forth on the path for a while, Kostya finally calmed himself. He had to think. How could he use this? How could he twist the fairies’ celebrations into part of his revenge?

  There, by the side of the gravel road, an old truck sat parked. It was one of those truly ancient beasts, as it was made mostly of metal. Kostya shivered as he approached it. Damn the humans and their machines. While Queen Adele had been wrong about most everything, as fairies generally were, she might have been right about trying to stop the spread of the humans and their infernal machines.

  Kostya held himself still as old Eli approached the truck. Except that it wasn’t Eli anymore, was it?

  No, this was a creature of age and strength. Kostya flattened himself to the ground as it passed, holding his breath, praying that this certain death passed him by, with its golden hawk-eyes and its long, silver hair.

  Kostya didn’t dare breathe until after he was sure it was gone. That was the creature who’d kept Nora’s teachers away from her, he was certain of it. Why, he couldn’t even guess. Maybe to just keep her in his territory?

  However, Kostya recognized him as one of the old ones, an o’onakie, who had been in the area before even the dwarves had arrived. The creatures were known for their great strength and magical power. They’d tolerate others in their territory, then seemingly at random kill all of them in a single night. Kostya had no idea that one of them lived here, that it had been masquerading as Eli for decades.

  What did it want with the twins? Did it matter? Would it kill Kostya if he interfered? What if he told the Maker the truth? Which path would further his revenge? Should he warn the dwarven king about this creature? Or would that make him more cautious?

  Whistling to himself, Kostya tottered back down the road toward the fairies dancing on the beach. If they were coming outside regularly, they’d be more vulnerable to attack.

  Kostya just had to figure out how.

  * * *

  Garung fought with claws, teeth, wings, and cunning. He’d read about fairy battles, heard all the poems about them. Knew about the chilling cry of an attacker. Felt his own heart beating as fiercely as any warrior’s.

  Nothing that Garung had read prepared him for a real battle. Blood coated his tongue and greased his cries. It also made his hands slippery, allowing the warrior he grappled with to slip out and away when his opponent folded his wings and dropped, diving down toward the forest floor.

  Garung had gladly taken the spear that Sree had tossed to him. He’d read how to use them, had even done a little sparring himself.

  His first stab had been a lucky shot, piercing the chest of the warrior barreling toward him. He hadn’t expected to actually kill another fairy. But the warrior had been going too fast to stop, and Garung had got him smack in the chest, piercing his heart, an injury even the toughest of fairies couldn’t recover from.

  The sudden weight of the fairy on the end of Garung’s spear had caused him to drop his weapon. The crash below him had sobered him in a way that the attack from his brother hadn’t.

  They had to kill these warriors. All of them. Or be killed.

  Garung knew his troop was outnumbered. And outclassed, quite frankly. They could hold their own for a while, but they’d lose, sooner rather than later.

  There really was only one thing for them to do.

  “Fly!” Garung urged as he neared Sree and the others, fighting hand-to-hand with Ramit’s warriors. “Save yourselves! Flee!”

  He couldn’t take his own advice when he saw another of the students in trouble. Resigned, Garung returned to the battle.

  They were destined to lose, and no one would sing of their efforts either, make a song of their valiant attempt.

  * * *

  Dale sighed when Nora barged into his room. If he could have locked the door, he would have. He knew his sister would want to talk. And he hadn’t wanted to be a complete ass.

  But he needed some time alone, too. To figure out what it meant that Dad, of all people, should be riding to the rescue. Dale had known their dad was a bully. He’d figured it out long before Nora had. And it looked like he still was. Nora had just better be out of there before Dale’s time to visit. He felt no guilt breaking that promise.

  “Why do I feel like Judas?” Nora asked, dramatically flinging herself on Dale’s bed.

  Though Dale loved his sister, he would actually be glad when she left for a while. When he could have more peace and quiet and order.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Dale drawled. “Maybe because you over-exaggerate and are a drama queen at heart?”

  Nora looked stricken. Dale almost felt bad. “I am not,” she said. “I just—I don’t want you to have to go anywhere with him.”

  “I know, Nor. Going with him isn’t a fate you’d wish on anyone, not even Bridgette, that cheerleader you hate,” Dale said. “But you’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried about me, stupid,” Nora said, scowling. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m not,” Dale said. Why should he be worried about Dad? If he tried anything stupid, well, Dale had grown up a lot. He’d been surprised that he could look his dad right in the eye, now. And though Nora teased Dale about his “prison workouts”—those pushups had done some good. He wore larger shirts because of it.

  “He wants to corrupt you, you know,” Nora said.

  “I know. You already told me. But really, Nora, how can he?” Dale asked reasonably. Dad didn’t have any magic. There wasn’t anything he could compel Dale into doing. Why was she so worried?

  “I don’t know!” Nora said, exasperated. “I’m just—I just feel helpless. I want to protect you and Mom. But this thing is chasing me away.”

  It was Dale’s turn to sigh. As much as his sister embodied chaos, she was still a control freak at heart. “We’ll be fine,” Dale assured Nora. “I can take care of Mom after you’ve gone.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nora asked suspiciously.

  Dale rolled his eyes. Nora was spoiling for a fight. Fine. “Since you can’t be here to worry about every little detail, we’ll just have to manage on our own.”

  “Are you sure you’re capable?” Nora asked. “I mean, you might end up dancing to the fairies’ will, instead.”

  That was mean. “And you can’t even take care of yourself,” Dale replied hotly. “I mean, you’re going to have to rely on Dad of all people to rescue you.”

  “He’s not that bad!” Nora said hotly. “I mean, well, he is a pig. But he does care about you.”

  “Bullshit. All he cares about is some image he has of family,” Dale said. “That’s all he’s ever cared about. Shit, Nora, he accused you of being pregnant.” That had made Dale want to put his fist through his father’s face. It probably would have hurt like hell.

  But it also would have felt really good.

  “I know.” Nora sighed and deflated. “I just—I don’t want to have to go this way. It’s too close, you know? Too similar to how we had to leave LA.”

  Dale nodded. He wasn’t surprised his sister still smarted from that. Mom had made them leave everything behind, depart in the middle of the night, change names, everything to get away.

  And it took Nora a really long time to accept that Mom had done the right thing.

  “Look, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be safe, and we’re going to be fine. Idiot,” Dale added, trying to get his sister to smile. Or maybe get off his back. Possibly leave his room, to boot.

  But Nora wasn’t finished yet. She brought out a small blue-velvet box and set it next to her on the bed.

  Dale thought about playing dumb, but figured that wouldn’t get him anywhere. “From Brett?” he guessed.

  Nora nodded. “I don’t know why he’s so insistent on me taking this ring of his grandfather’s.”

  Dale hesitated. Should he tell Nora his suspicions? Now would probably be as good a time as ever—though he was already resigned to the fact that there was never goin
g to be a good time to bring this up.

  “Do you think Brett could be the creature?” Dale asked.

  Yeap. Bad idea. Nora glared daggers at Dale. “Impossible,” she said. “He’s too—ordinary.”

  “Exactly. Too ordinary. Maybe that’s how he’s hiding from you,” Dale pointed out. Why else would his very special sister be attracted to him?

  Nora snapped open the blue box. “He wouldn’t be offering me a ring like this if he was the monster, trying to keep all my teachers away.”

  “How can you say that?” Dale asked, bewildered. “It’s a magic ring. You said so yourself. You have no idea what the hell it does. It’s exactly the kind of thing a creature might offer you.”

  Nora shook her head. “No. It’s slippery, I’ll give you that. But you can’t really see it, can you? Not like I can,” she sneered.

  Damn it—why was Nora being so obstinate? More than usual? It couldn’t just be because she had to leave, was it?

  “How do you know?” Dale asked. “You don’t know enough about magic to know exactly what it does.”

  “Do so,” Nora said.

  “What?” Dale asked. “How? Since when?” He saw Nora looking at the ring, her eyes drawn to it constantly.

  That ring was doing something to her. “Put it away, Nor,” Dale said, getting up from the bed. “Close the box. Give it to me.”

  “Jealous?” Nora asked, picking up the ring and holding it closer, bringing it to her chest.

  “Idiot,” Dale said, holding out his hand. “Can I see it, at least?” When Nora hesitated again, Dale added, “Please?”

  Nora started to hand over the ring box when a knock came on Dale’s door, startling them both. Mom stuck her head in the door and Nora snatched the ring box close to her chest again.

  Damn it. Dale was going to have to steal that box from Nora. And soon.

  Or something really bad was going to happen to his sister.

  * * *

  Garung felt himself falling. He’d fought well, he knew. But he wasn’t a warrior. His arms bled freely from long scratches, his right wing was torn to shreds, and his mouth was sticky from blood.

  However, the latest blow had dazed him, and he couldn’t get his wings spread out. He was going to fall, crash, hard.

  Ramit had been right—their mother wouldn’t really care that she’d lost two sons. But he hoped someone would mourn him as he struggled to get his wings to work, to stretch, damn it, to fly as a fairy was meant to fly.

  Instead of the ground, Garung hit something—squishy. Something that bounced. That sent him up flying into the air again.

  What?

  When he looked back down, he realized that it was a net of new material, spread out between the trees, defended by two of the students. It was giving them an edge.

  A bright flash of silver drew Garung’s eye as he continued to struggle to get his wings spread. Pravir struck out again with a long sparkling chain. It entangled the wings of the warrior he engaged with, and with a quick tug, ripped them to shreds. The warrior tumbled toward the ground, as Garung had.

  But there was no net to catch her.

  Garung wanted to protest: Fairies didn’t fight with chains. They weren’t one of the traditional, time-honored weapons.

  But he also wanted to get out of the forest alive.

  “Flee!” Garung called again. His troop was rallying, yes. But they’d never win. “Fly!”

  The two with the net flew up behind Garung, the net trailing behind them. They suddenly darted to the side, the net stretching between them. Two of the chasing fairies flew into it, entangled.

  It gave Garung and the others a head start.

  Garung’s wings ached, pain seeping into his very bones. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes and the humid air was hard to breathe.

  He kept flying.

  Strung out over half a mile behind Garung flew two dozen students and Adele. Maybe more would be able to escape Ramit, maybe some had voluntarily decided to stay.

  But he had less than half of his original troop. Garung shuddered to think of the songs that might be sung about him now, losing not most of one, but two troops.

  Titir flew up beside Garung, his silver chain still wrapped around his hands. He grinned at Garung, his lips seared red with blood. “You know they won’t stop, right?” he asked, challenging.

  “What do you mean?” Garung asked. They’d gotten away, hadn’t they? He looked over his shoulder.

  There, in the distance, a ways off but gaining, flew Ramit’s warriors.

  “Damn it!” Garung said. His eyes scanned the ground ahead. Was there anywhere they could get away? Where they could rest? How were they going to get away?

  “What are we going to do?” Garung asked. Titir was the smartest of them all. Garung had been convinced he was soft, though. Just a scholar. Maybe he could be something more.

  “We run,” Titir said. “We fly to the Greater Oregon Kingdom, and ask for sanctuary.”

  “That’s three days away!” Garung said. They needed to rest. To mend their wings. To recover. To bind their wounds.

  “Too bad,” Titir said, shrugging. “We fly. Or we die.”

  Garung looked behind him again. They’d had so many dreams, so many plans.

  And damned if he was only going to be sung of in sorrow, another troop to never return.

  “We fly.”

  * * *

  The undulating warning call of the warriors echoed against the cliffs, over the water, and spiraled around the leaping flames.

  Danger came.

  It took the dancing fairies a few moments to recognize the call. Like Cornelius, they mistook the initial sounds for more fierce screeching from the warriors. Slowly, the servants separated, drifting apart from each other. The royals on the sidelines looked up, puzzled, then dismayed.

  Time to flee.

  Cornelius jerked away from Thirza. He refused to be hustled back inside the safe fairy kingdom. When had they all forgotten how fierce they once were?

  Queen Adele might have been right about more than one thing.

  Cornelius stretched his wings wide and flew hard toward the incoming creatures. The ocean winds picked up away from the sheltered cove, and he had to concentrate to keep from being blown back in toward the coast. Clouds gathered at the horizon, promising a cold rain later. Echoing warning calls faded as Cornelius shortened the distance between himself and the lead warrior.

  Thirza flew beside Cornelius. Even from that distance, Cornelius could hear her growling, and imagined that her complaints were all about him.

  He was the leader of the royals, however. He would see this threat to his kingdom firsthand.

  After a short while, Cornelius could make out the fairies flying toward them. They were a ragged bunch: They still bore long scratches and scrapes, with dried blood on the remains of their clothes.

  With a start, Cornelius recognized the leader: Garung, from the Redwood Fairy Kingdom.

  “Wait!” Cornelius called out, trying to stop his warriors from attacking. “We know these fairies!”

  What terrible battle had they been in? Who had attacked them? Why were they coming to the northern kingdom again? Were they seeking refuge? Or revenge?

  “We ask for sanctuary!” Garung called out across the space dividing them. “The Forest Fairy Kingdom is still after us!”

  The Forest Fairy Kingdom? Cornelius did not like the sound of that. He’d only ever known of one kingdom to the south. Now there was another?

  “Escort these people to safety,” Cornelius told Thirza.

  She mutely shook her head, staring at the refugees.

  “What?” Cornelius asked.

  Then he turned and looked more closely at Garung and his group.

  “Hello, Cornelius,” came a familiar voice.

  Queen Adele floated to the front of the line.

  * * *

  Brett waited while the human got out of his car at a small coastal hotel. The breeze was picking up: There
would be rain before morning. It would destroy the scent he’d been following all afternoon. Damn it!

  Then the human stepped into the light. He looked like an older version of Dale.

  Nora had never mentioned her father. She’d actually let Brett assume he was dead. But Brett, as Eli, had filed the restraining order against the man, working his magic on the system so it looked as though Denise had actually filed it before they’d left California.

  What was he doing here? Why was he bothering the Maker?

  Brett couldn’t just kill him, as much as he might like to. It would automatically put Denise under suspicion with the human authorities. And while Brett could probably fix any trouble, it was easier to avoid it in the first place. He was just going to have to wait until the father was driving out of town.

  Those roads along the coast could get awfully lonely, as well as slippery with sudden showers. Accidents did happen.

  But for now…Brett raised his nose to the air, taking in a deep breath. He needed to find his prey before the rains came. She wouldn’t risk leaving her hotel room again, not until she had Nora under her wing.

  There. The Teacher. One had made it through. And there she was. Off along that line of cottages and old fashioned hotels. She must be hiding there.

  Humming, Brett slipped into the shadows to seek his prey.

  * * *

  Nora couldn’t be bothered to listen to Mom. Yeah, Dad was back. Blahdy blah blah. He was a pig. Maybe Nora could transform him into one, someday. Like those circus shows. See the mighty pig man! Laugh at his snout and beady little eyes!

  Dale’s stare felt like a weight against Nora’s chest. God, he could be so pedantic sometimes. Sure, she didn’t know exactly what the ring did. She could admit to that. It wasn’t her fault that she’d never had a teacher.

  And now, she knew it really wasn’t her fault. Something had been keeping them away.

  The ring was originally Old Eli’s, but it was being given to her by plain, ordinary Brett. That didn’t mean it was bad. He was so plain and ordinary he’d probably rubbed away some of the magic, just by holding it for a while.

  Nora leaned her head back against the hard wall, scrunching up Dale’s cover between her fingers, leaving random pleats in his orderly bed. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave like this. Without saying goodbye to her friends. She’d done that once, when they left LA. It still stung.