“Harrison, where are you?”
An upstairs window in the factory exploded. Flames licked the bricks, creeping along the wooden windowsill. Hags shrieked, but the fire’s roar muted them.
“Burn,” Edna whispered. If she could have torn the buildings apart herself, she would have.
A child stumbled into her hip. Edna knew he was too short to be Harrison, but she grabbed his cheeks and tipped his face just in case. No. Too round to be her brother.
“Please, Saints, get all the children and foxkins out.” The foxkins chose to go in, but the children were innocent captives.
“Harrison!” Edna shrieked. “Harrison Mather!” She seized another boy and pulled him around. Beneath his filth, the child’s red hair shone with gray streaks. Tears stung her eyes while she stumbled away from the child. “Saints help us, he has to appear.”
“Edna!” Ike’s voice rang through the swamp. She turned, and Ike’s arm squeezed her so tight she gasped. A hard object beneath his coat jabbed her ribs.
She clung to his neck, breathing in the scent of him. “You’re safe.”
“We’re both fine, luv,” he whispered into her hair.
Yes, both of them were well, but…
Edna jerked away. “I have to find Harrison…” She grabbed another child. A girl with long gray hair. Again, not Harrison. The evil bit stronger at her fingertips.
“Harrison!” Ike’s voice boomed through the night. “Harrison Mather?”
The children didn’t look at them, fleeing for the swamp with mouths agape. More windows exploded, and something crashed as the factory caved in. Reaching for another child, Edna stumbled over a rock and crashed into a tree. She gritted her teeth against the pain flashing through her side, as if needles stabbed her nerves.
“Edna?”
A boy stood behind her, soot streaking his gaunt face and nightgown. Through the grit, his eyes shone. They weren’t as clear as she remembered, more gray than hazel, but the emotion behind them, the depth, made her squeal.
Edna yanked Harrison against her. The evil fled back to her heart at the contact.
“Harry-boy!” Tears burned paths down her cheeks. His bones stabbed her; so frail, as if he were a skeleton dressed in rags. He lifted his hands and patted her shoulders. She rubbed her knuckles across his chin to scrape his dirt onto her gloves.
A ball of light struck a tree above their heads. Edna pushed Harrison behind her to shield him. An ogre stood at the entrance of the swamp wearing only a kilt. Glowing symbols covered the rest of his thick body. Water swirled around his hands, and a ball of it shot off to strike the tree by them again. He bared his teeth and snarled.
“You won’t fell me now, not when I’ve got Harrison.”
Ike grabbed her arm. “Run!”
“Go,” the ogre growled. “Do not return.”
Was he like the hag in white who’d helped them escape the mansion? Having no time to ponder this question, she turned and ran.
Ike pushed Edna faster. She dragged Harrison at her side, other children and foxkins fleeing from the crackling buildings.
Edna gasped. “Is he going to come after us?”
“No. Keep running,” he panted. “Everyone needs to keep going.”
“Who was that?”
“Captain of the Confidents.” Ike pushed a vine aside. Their feet sloshed through the moist ground.
“Why would he not come after us?” She squeezed Harrison’s hand tighter.
“He wants us to escape.”
“Why?” Edna glanced at the foxkins and children following them. She would have to send a foxkin deeper into the swamp to fetch Rachel and the foxkins who’d been too weak to attack.
“He’s my grandfather.”
Come my pets, all dragons worthy.
dna sat on the edge of the Nix bed, which consisted of large leaves spread over smaller ones. Rachel rested alone in another cottage. The Nix had offered Edna her own bed, but she’d chosen to stay with her brother. Harrison leaned against her with his head in her lap. He snored, his chest rising and falling with each rattling breath.
She smoothed the dirty brown hair away from his face, strands sticking in her lace gloves. Magic sparkled along his graying skin. She rubbed his ear, but the silver residue didn’t fade. “What’ve they done to you?”
Harrison’s sleepy legs jerked so hard he kicked the wall. “Go away!”
Edna’s heart pounded, making her head light and her hands chilled. Her throat ached when she swallowed. “Harrison, wake up.” Edna shook him. “You’re safe.”
Her brother twisted away and panted, blinking. She stroked her fingers across his cheeks to calm him. “I’m not gonna let the hags at you again. I promise.”
The curtain of braided grasses parted across the doorway and Strossa entered carrying a bowl. Her hooves scraped the dirt. “I brought food for Rachel, and here’s some for the tyke.”
“Who are you?” Harrison backed away from the Nix until his back hit the wall. Edna enfolded him in her arms, wishing he felt thicker. He’d always been so solid before. Real.
“She’s a friend,” Edna reminded him.
“I don’t wanna stay here.” He turned his face against her shoulder. “Where’re Mum and Papa?”
“They’re waiting for us at home. They want you to be well.” She pictured their mother in her dancing dress and their father in his denim overalls, both crying as they welcomed them home. They would call her magnificent.
Strossa held up the bowl. “Swamp spinach stew. Good for the boy.”
Swamp spinach sounded gross, but maybe it would taste as good as the moss. Edna held out her hand. “Thank you.”
Harrison pressed against her and whimpered when the Nix drew near, but as soon as she left, he leaned away. Tears streaked his face, which she’d done her best to clean, but grime still coated his skin.
“We’re really going home?” he asked.
“We are.” Edna smiled for his account as she slid her finger through the thick, green mixture. “Here you go. I’m sure it tastes much better than it looks.”
Harrison paused before he opened his mouth to be fed from her fingers.
“When you were little, I used to feed you to help our parents. Sometimes you’d wrinkle your nose and clamp your mouth shut, or you’d spit the food back up. How does it taste?” The aroma lifting from the bowl reminded her of garlic more than spinach.
“I don’t taste anything.” His cheeks reddened. “The hags gave us leaves to chew. They killed our taste buds and made us never hungry. Or thirsty.”
Edna stiffened. “I’ll find a way to fix that. I’ll destroy those ogres all over again.”
“They’re gone. You burned them.”
Ike entered the room. “Some survived.”
“What?” Harrison blanched.
“I need to talk to you.” Ike touched Edna’s shoulder. “Elsewhere.”
“My brother needs me. I can’t leave him fretting here.” She did need to listen to Ike, though. He was still the guide who’d gotten her to the swamps, to Harrison. Edna pressed the bowl into her brother’s hands. “I’ll be back. I promise.” She rose to follow Ike, her heart aching for her brother.
Once outside the cottage, Ike kissed her cheek.
She blinked up at him. “What was that for?” Her heart flip-flopped—a strange sensation. They were partners against the hags, not special friends. Were they even friends? Yes, if someone asked, she would say they were.
He stepped back, his cheeks flushed. “I’m glad you’re safe. You got your brother back.”
“I couldn’t have gotten him without you.” Her broad smile stung her lips. “My world would’ve crumbled if I hadn’t saved Harrison. You led me along that path of salvation.”
“The Nix are looking after the other children. They can’t stay here, but we can find them homes once they’re better.”
She sighed. “They’ll reunite with their families. I was worrying—”
“The
hags will find more children. They’ll make more coglings. Perhaps some hags died, but not enough. The hags are sick of being second. They will rebel.” Ike closed his eyes. “I’m going back with you to the city to get Hilda.”
Edna shivered. “Dragging more hags into the situation can’t fix things. What can she do?”
“Help me plan.” Ike ran his fingers through his hair. “I have to do something.”
“I want to help.”
He turned away. “You’re not a hag. There’s nothing you can do.”
Edna winced. “I just enlisted a bunch of foxkins to burn down the factory. How can you tell me there’s nothing I can do?”
“Go to Harrison. Right now, he needs you.”
Edna reached for Ike, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m here. Let me help. We can go to King Elias, with or without Hilda. He’ll terminate the evil hags and imprison the rest. Their freedom is over. They won’t hurt anyone again.”
Ike’s nose burned and his eyes were wet. What if he couldn’t stop the hags and everything his mother once tried for became naught?
“Are you Ike?” a male Nix asked.
He turned to the warrior imp approaching. “I am.” He clenched his fists to keep the doubts away.
“I have a note.” The imp held out a metal blimp the size of Ike’s hand with a paper attached to the bottom.
“Thanks.” Ike bowed his head as he accepted it, but his heart thudded. Only hags used miniature steam blimps to carry messages.
His fingers shook while he unfolded the letter. His heart raced even faster as he read, then reread, skimming the introduction to the central paragraph.
His grandfather requested a meeting for the next morning.
Ike stood beneath a weeping willow, using its coverage to shadow his body. The changeling pool shimmered in front of him. A hag, long ago, had cast a spell over the rainbow-colored waters to give them power. Whenever the pool’s water was placed in a hag’s machine, the contraption would become more lifelike.
Scowling, Ike kicked a stone into the pool. Rainbow ripples spread across the surface. Perhaps if the water had never been spelled, the hags wouldn’t have so many coglings. Perhaps humans would recognize they weren’t real.
Perhaps he would still be living with his parents rather than plotting the downfall of hags.
“Ike?”
He twisted at the sound of his grandfather’s voice. The ogre entered the shade of the willow tree dressed in his Confident uniform of silver skirt and arrow tattoos. His thick, wrinkled body made Ike thankful for his father’s human blood. Then he winced. His grandfather couldn’t help his appearance. I’ve spent too much time amongst humans.
Ike bowed his head. Aside from their brief interaction yesterday, he hadn’t seen his grandfather since his mother took him to the Nix. Ike wanted to reprimand the ogre for not seeking him out, for not taking care of his mother, but the words shriveled on his tongue. His grandfather would’ve done anything for Ike’s mother, yet even he hadn’t been able to stop her death.
“I feared you wouldn’t come.” His grandfather nodded.
“I sent you a reply,” Ike snapped. “Since when do you care what I do?” The anger came so easily he winced again. As a child he’d adored his grandfather, consumed every word the ogre spoke.
“I’ve always cared about you. You’re my only grandchild. Family—”
“Family?” Ike snorted. “You let my mother die. You didn’t stand with us.”
“I’m the Captain of the Confidents.” His grandfather thrust his wide chest out, reminding Ike of a proud peacock. “My first duty lies with the hags.”
Yet he’d let Ike and Edna and the children escape. “Then don’t tell me you care about family!” Ike stormed past his grandfather, heading for the swamp. The Confidents had taken his mother down, and even if his grandfather hadn’t attacked with them, he symbolized their worth. He’d taught them how to destroy his own daughter. Bile rose in Ike’s throat, gagging him with its sourness.
“I wasn’t going to,” the Captain interrupted. “I was only going to remind you of something. You’re only half-hag. Don’t turn your back on your father.”
Ike pictured his father, the human who’d taught him to ride a horse, but never came after him and his mother when they left. “My father doesn’t care.” He could’ve stood at her side as well. Instead there’d been only Ike, too young to help.
“But do you care about him?” His grandfather’s bushy eyebrows furrowed.
Ike removed a knife from his pocket. He pushed the button on the ivory handle to make the blade pop out. “I’m not a child. You taught me how to take care of myself and my mother taught me how to fight. My father taught me honor.” Even if he left me. Ike tossed the blade in the air and caught it. He wasn’t a helpless child anymore, raised in elegance.
“If you’d been a full-blooded hag, you would’ve been an ogre. You could’ve followed in my footsteps and led the Confidents once I pass away. Your human blood kept you from that path. Now I ask you, my boy, and I want you to answer honestly: why did you return?”
Ike tossed his knife again. The blade flashed in the light. “Question for question?”
The ogre grinned, showing his broad teeth. “Yes, we can play that way.”
“I came back because I recognized a cogling.”
His grandfather flinched. “How?”
Ike tossed the blade hard enough to make it spin twice before he caught it. “You put those watches on the coglings to make them run. I saw the watch on Edna’s little brother.”
“Edna,” his grandfather mused. “The girl who burned our factories. What did you think you’d accomplish by coming here?”
“To finish what my mother started. The hags and ogres won’t control humanity. I won’t let you hurt the humans. My turn for a question. Why did you let me escape?”
“Because you’re right.” His grandfather held up his massive hand. “You know how to fight. You have honor. Who am I to keep you in a cage?”
Ike frowned. “Then what do you want?” Hadn’t his grandfather come to drag him back amongst the magic folks?
“I want you to run. Go far away and live where you’re safe. When the hags find you, they’ll blanket your mind. You’ll never be able to think straight. That’s not the future you deserve.”
“I can’t let the hags enslave the humans.” His grandfather could never understand. He’d lived his life with hags and ogres and only dealt with humans once, when he’d visited Ike and his mother. Ike had been three, but he would never forget the way his grandfather had glared at his father, both men refusing to speak in the other’s presence.
“It’s not your place to tell them what not to do.” His grandfather lifted his Confident skirt four inches to reveal a leather pouch strapped to his thigh. He unhooked it and held it out to his grandson. “There’s enough money here to take you wherever you desire. Go where you’re safe.”
Ike dropped the pouch into his coat pocket. “Thank you, but I can’t leave.” The money could prove worthwhile though, just as the ogre intended.
I have your blood as well as my father’s. We never back down.
With his face expressionless, the ogre walked past Ike.
“Wait,” Ike called. His heartbeat quickened. “Why did you mention my father? Did he come for me?” Ike’s mother had sent a message to his father the first time the hags plotted their attack. His father had replied the humans were stronger. Hags were no threat.
Had he learned of her death? Had he finally arrived to reclaim his son?
The ogre shook his head, nostrils flared. “The hags plan to strike him next.”
Ike stared at Edna where she curled around her little brother. She held one of his hands, her kinky brown curls brushing his neck. Tears shimmered on her cheeks as she watched him sleep.
When Ike and his mother had first lived with the Nix, they’d slept like that. He’d never felt so safe as when his mother brought him close, promising to prote
ct him from the world. He’d been a child then. Now at seventeen years old, he couldn’t long for safety.
“The Nix are getting us an automated coach,” he said.
“Those’re expensive.” She wiped drool from the corners of her brother’s lips. “We don’t have money left.”
“The Nix are going to steal one.”
She stood, but her legs quaked. Ike cupped her elbow.
“Edna?” Harrison grabbed the hem of her skirt.
“Go get Rachel.” She smiled. “We’re going home. Then we’ll go to Flynt City to convince King Elias the hags are using coglings to stage a revolt.”
Will you help me, I ask of thee?
dna clutched Harrison’s hand as they hurried through the swamp. “I love the cottages and seeing the kingdom, but once we get home, we’re never leaving Moser City again.”
Ahead, Ike hopped from rock to overturned tree to up-heaved root.
Edna thought of the children left with the Nix, removed from their rags and garbed instead with sewn-together leaves. Harrison also wore the “bog wear,” as Ike called it: a loincloth of huge leaves, leggings of giant petals, and a shirt woven of vines. Edna wished they could’ve scrounged shoes. His skin, once soft and pale, had turned thick and black, cracked and bloody around his toes and heels. She’d offered him her boots, but they were too big. When he’d tried to walk, he’d tripped. Luckily he’d only bumped his knee. She’d hate to have him hurt now, when she had him back.
To distract them from the trek, she sang:
“Bloody rats all in a hat,
Upon which Victor Viper sat.
Little feet with little shoes,
Little people with little hues.
Flames and smoke all leaping high,
Upon which we all might die.”
Mud splattered Edna’s back as Rachel shrieked, “I’m stuck!”
Edna turned to find the Lady clinging to a mossy tree, struggling to free herself from a murky hole. Her skirt and petticoats tangled around her legs. Once Harrison would’ve laughed and called Rachel a “sissy” behind his hand. Now he stood beside Edna with solemn eyes and pursed lips.
Cogling Page 16
