by Leah Cutter
That witch. He wouldn’t have actually hurt her. A gentleman never struck a lady. His mama had drilled that into his head but good.
Traffic grew congested. However, instead of a town, a huge collection of outlet shops crouched together on the side of the road, drawing crowds of people.
“That, right there, is what’s was wrong with America,” Chris said out loud to the empty car. He ground his teeth, changing into the fast lane to avoid the merging traffic, though he continued to stay close to the speed limit. He couldn’t risk getting a ticket or calling any attention to himself.
“Big impersonal stores with faceless clerks, uprooted people,” Chris continued his diatribe. They made families, towns, and neighbors less important, easier to split apart.
Chris was determined to bring his family back together. Not Denise—Mama had been right to dislike her on the spot. Denise was everything Mama wasn’t: college-educated, dark-colored, and frail.
Nora was as dark as her mother, but wild. She’d defied him, daring him to knit something when he’d pointed out the flaws in what she’d just finished. Lord knew how out of control she was now, three months away from his influence.
No, it was his boy, Dale, that Chris intended to rescue. With only women around him, what sort of a man would he grow up to be? It just wasn’t right.
Like many other industries, business at Chris’ architecture firm had been slow for a while due to the economy. Sure, they had a couple of presentations coming up, but they were show-and-tells, not money-generating. He didn’t need to be there.
However, Chris’ witch of a boss, Bonnie, hadn’t seen it that way. Chris sneered as he changed lanes, back to the slower right lane, determined to be a polite driver, another thing too many people forgot these days. It wasn’t that Chris didn’t like women—just that they had their place. He could never figure out why Dave had promoted Bonnie over him.
Her firing him just meant a new start for him and his boy. Maybe they would go back to Georgia, after a bit, and see Mama.
Except Dale was the same age Chris had been when his dad had died. That summer, his Mama had made him a man. She’d met Red in the fall, and married him shortly after. She’d never looked at Chris like that again.
Still. Maybe it was better to wait until Dale was older before going back south.
The radio blasted out a new song and Chris sang along loudly, “Hold on. I’m coming. Hold on. I’m coming.”
***
“When did you learn how to do magic?” Dale said, an ugly pit of jealousy blossoming in his gut. He looked toward the old house. The door still stood open, the darkness promising cool shade away from the hot sun. The ocean wind pushed at him and gulls in the distance cried their displeasure.
“She’s always known,” the man said. “Just as you’ve always known clockwork.”
Dale’s cheeks grew warm. Nora had always praised his ability and had never seemed envious. The man’s tone shamed him. “Who are you?” Dale demanded of the man.
“I am Kostya,” he said, bowing from his waist. “I am a dwarf, not a fairy.”
“I thought the polite term was little person,” Nora said.
Kostya shrugged. “Maybe for humans. I am not human.”
Dale edged closer to Nora. The guy’s eyes did look funny, a golden color, and the pupils were long, like a cat’s.
“What did the fairies want with my brother?” Nora asked. Her hands still shook. Dale finally reached out and squeezed one. It felt unnaturally hot. He dropped it quickly.
“He’s a Tinker. The fairies lost their own Master Tinker, Thaddeus.”
“No, that’s not it,” Nora said, shaking her head. “Wait.” She turned and told Kostya, “The fairy with the red eye—”
“Bascom,” Dale told her.
“Bascom,” Nora continued. “He accused you of killing the Master Tinker.”
“When?” Dale asked.
“While you were supposed to be escaping to safety,” Nora said, now glaring at Dale.
Kostya sighed, deflating. He still bled from his wounds, and looked pale and tired. “It’s a long story, this misunderstanding between myself and the fairies. Sure, our peoples are natural enemies, but that’s in the past. No reason why we can’t be friends now.” He sighed again. “However, long stories are best heard over full bellies, seated in comfortable chairs.”
“We should be getting home. Mom’s going to wonder where we are,” Dale told Nora.
“Is it safe there?” Nora asked Kostya. “Safe from the fairies?”
Kostya smiled. “Aye. Old Eli put up cold iron and magnets to repel the fairies.”
“He knows about the fairies?” Dale asked. It had all started to seem like a bad dream, but if a grown-up also knew...
“I am not sure what he knows,” Kostya cautioned. “Humans also tell stories of our kind filled with nonsense. Like all dwarfs have full beards,” he added, tugging on the scraggly hairs growing out of his chin.
“Where should we meet you?” Nora asked.
Dale wanted to protest that there would be no we. He didn’t want to get any more involved with this.
Kostya opened his mouth, then closed it. “The fairies destroyed my home,” he said mournfully.
“Then you’re coming with us,” Nora said firmly.
“Nor—where are we going to put him?” Dale asked. He didn’t trust this Kostya. He was turning his sister into someone Dale didn’t recognize.
“He can hide in my room for tonight.”
Dale shook his head. “Mom will kill you when she finds out you let a strange guy spend the night with you in your bedroom.”
“Young man,” Kostya said, holding himself stiffly. “I am an honorable dwarf. Nothing untoward will happen between your sister and me.”
The dwarf’s formal insistence on honor didn’t do much to reassure Dale. He looked at Nora, who looked back at him, with her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest. Dale sighed. He knew he’d never be able to change his sister’s mind, so, bowing to the inevitable, he said, “Okay. How do we sneak him in?”
***
Monday morning, Robert waited in Kitty’s Diner, on the highway at the far northern edge of town. The black and white squares that made up the floor weren’t real tile, but vinyl. Cheap red plastic covered the seats in the booths. The counter gleamed too brightly, falsely new. Three kids lounged behind it in perky uniforms.
Still, Robert liked to eat there. The fries were good and crispy, and no one looked at him funny when he asked for no lettuce, onion, pickle, or tomato on his burger. They also left him in peace with his newspapers and his numbers, working the stats for the regional races and games.
Today, though, Robert had his bets already picked out. He just needed the money that his client owed him. Instead of his papers, Robert had a set of folders on the table, his primary evidence. The top folder contained photos of Denise and the kids. One additional folder stayed out of sight on the seat next to Robert. It contained their address. He knew that the information he had about the kids and their school schedules was almost expired—tomorrow was the last day of school. However, he didn’t plan to share that with Chris unless forced.
Robert remembered Chris when he came in: blond hair artfully cut and carelessly styled, soulful blue eyes, and a generous mouth. He smiled easily when he saw Robert.
Robert examined Chris carefully as he walked over. No telltale bulges of a gun. Probably didn’t have a knife in his boot—guys like Chris would think that impolite. Still, it never hurt to be too cautious.
“Hey there,” Chris said, holding out his hand. Robert shook it without getting up, pleased that Chris had remembered the rule about no first names in public.
One of the desultory teens wandered their direction as Chris sat down. Must have smelled money—Robert tipped adequately, but Chris, as always, was well dressed, wearing designer jeans, a fancy blue shirt, and a nicely fitting beige suit jacket.
Chris took the menu from the boy, flipped t
hrough it. “Y’all wouldn’t happen to have actual sweet tea, would you?”
“Yeah, we got that. Anything else?”
Chris looked at Robert. “The fries are good,” he suggested.
“An order of fries for us to split.”
The waiter collected the menu and drifted away.
“So how are you doing?” Chris asked, looking as if he had all the time in the world.
Robert, however, needed to put in his bets before the first race of the afternoon. “I found them,” he said.
“All right,” Chris drawled. “I reckon we can get down to business.”
Robert stifled his sigh. Chris thought of himself as a Southern gentleman. He always delayed business for “niceties.” Robert pulled the three best pictures from the top folder. One of Denise, alone, standing by the side of her car. Robert had finally been able to follow her into town. The other pictures were of the three of them, waiting at the bus stop.
Chris glanced at the first two, then picked up the third. It had the best shot of the boy. “How is he?” Chris demanded, staring at the picture.
“They all seem fine,” Robert told him.
Chris turned the other pictures over and kept the one close to his chest when their waiter returned with the sweet tea and fries. “Thank you, son,” Chris said. He didn’t put the picture down until the waiter had left.
“I have to see my boy,” Chris told Robert earnestly.
“I thought you wanted to be reunited with your whole family,” Robert said. It was one of the reasons why he’d agreed to take the case: Families belonged together.
“Yes, yes,” Chris said breezily. “Of course. But first I need to see Dale. Make sure he’s okay.”
Robert picked up another folder, thumbed through the papers it contained, then handed Chris a computer printout. “Turns out the school’s main secretary was single. And bored,” Robert added with a grin. Not very imaginative, either—her password was her birthday.
Chris read through Dale’s report card eagerly. “Fitting in, fast learner, gets along well with others—that’s my boy. Look at those A’s!” Chris concluded proudly.
“So you see, he’s doing well,” Robert said.
“Good, good,” Chris said. “I just need their address.”
“And I just need my money,” Robert said in reply. He checked his watch. Maybe he could still get in a bet on the second race.
Chris snorted. “Now, don’t go trying to cheat this old horse trader. You could have Photoshopped those pictures, and while you say that’s my boy’s report card, it could be a complete work of fiction. No. You get your money after I see my boy.”
Robert checked his watch again. He wasn’t going to be able to place any bets that day. “Come on,” he said, standing.
“Where?” Chris asked, taking a deliberate drag on his tea and not moving.
“To the school. To see your boy.”
Chapter Five
When they approached the house, Dale saw their mom’s car sat in the driveway. “We shouldn’t bring him in,” he hissed to Nora. Their plan seemed absurd. Kostya looked out of place on the road, still bleeding and, now, limping. “Maybe we should take him to a doctor or something.”
“I’ll distract Mom in the kitchen. You bring him in through the front door,” Nora whispered in return, ignoring his concerns. She walked away from them and went into the house through the door in the garage that led straight to the kitchen.
“Come on,” Dale said, with poor grace. He unlocked the front door, pushed open the heavy wood, then stopped and listened. Nora was talking with Mom in the kitchen. He listened for a moment. She was telling her about the “painting” they’d done on the beach.
The dwarf gave an odd shudder as he stepped over the threshold. “Human houses, eh?” he whispered, shivering again and looking around.
That relieved Dale. It meant Kostya wouldn’t stick around, not if the house bothered him so much. Kostya looked around curiously as Dale led him past the plain, gray couch they’d bought used, the mournfully empty bookcase built into the far wall, then down the hall into Nora’s room. They stood there awkwardly for a moment. “Uhm. You want a washcloth or something to clean up with? And some Band-Aids?”
“Bandages are unnecessary,” Kostya told him. “But a washrag would be nice. You wouldn’t happen to have an old shirt that would fit me, would you?”
“I’ll check,” Dale told him. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room in a hurry. The dwarf seemed unreal standing in Nora’s messy bedroom. Even though Dale had seen Nora do a little magic, it wasn’t until that moment that he believed Kostya wasn’t human. He didn’t fit in Nora’s room or in their house in some essential way, like a gear with a broken tooth, almost running smoothly, just catching now and again.
First Dale grabbed a couple of T-shirts from his room that were way too big for him, that he also didn’t care if they got ruined. Then he went into the bathroom. While running a washcloth under warm water, he got distracted looking at his neck. Bruises already blossomed in a line across his throat. He swallowed. No wonder they were starting to hurt. They were going to take a while to fade as well.
Kostya had removed his shirt when Dale got back. The guy had muscles everywhere. Dale’s anxiety renewed. Kostya could really hurt someone. He handed the dwarf the washcloth. Kostya sighed in contentment at the warmth, quickly cleaning the blood off his cuts. They looked to be healing already. Yet another reminder that the dwarf wasn’t human.
When Dale came back from rinsing out the washcloth—his mom would have freaked at finding it so bloody—he found Kostya looking around Nora’s room. He’d put Dale’s old compass T-shirt on but tied it at the waist, because otherwise it would have fallen to his knees. He looked so out of place, like frosting on the back of the couch.
“Ah, sorry for the junk everywhere,” Dale said. Unordered, unlabeled bags lay scattered across the floor. The plastic box containing Nora’s knitting needles was open, half the contents spilled out. Dirty clothes lay in piles, as well as collections of rocks, books, papers, and other miscellaneous things.
Kostya smiled at Dale. “No apology necessary. This feels like home.”
Dale shook his head. Great. Another freak. The door opened and Dale froze, but it was just Nora.
“Dinner’s in five minutes.” Nora looked critically at the shirt Kostya wore. “I can cut that down later, if you’d like.”
“Tied is fine. Thank you, miss,” Kostya said.
Then Nora turned to Dale. “I have an idea.” She dove into her closet and produced the black-and-white scarf she’d knit for Talk Like a Pirate Day. “Put this on,” she instructed Dale.
“Mom’s going to ask just as many questions if she sees me wearing this,” Dale said, holding it reluctantly.
Nora shrugged. “You lost a bet. You have to talk like a pirate for the rest of the night.”
“Nor!” Dale complained. Then he got an idea. “Only if you lost a bet as well.”
Puzzled, Nora nodded.
“Give me two minutes, and a hairband,” Dale instructed. Nora handed him a wide plastic hairband. Dale wrapped the scarf carefully around his neck, then snuck down the hall to his room.
Precisely two minutes later, Nora knocked on Dale’s door. He presented her with mouse ears made out of spare clock parts and attached to the hairband. “Your crown, my lady.”
Nora rolled her eyes, but put it on.
“Perfect,” Dale chortled. “Let’s go get some grub, argh,” he continued in his best pirate’s voice.
Nora laughed and led the way.
The pair of them maintained the pirate and the mouse princess routine all through dinner, making their mom laugh. They had leftovers again that night, spaghetti from two nights before, with fresh garlic bread and broccoli. Dale had two glasses of milk, as well as three servings of bread. He was hungry all the time again—his mom predicted another growth spurt.
Dale and Nora sat on one side of the table while Mom
sat on the other. It had been uncomfortable when they’d spaced out more, sitting on three sides of the table. The fourth spot had always felt empty, as if they were expecting someone to join them. It let their mom tease Nora and Dale about ganging up on her, as well as giving both the twins the opportunity for the occasional kick under the table.
Finally, as they finished, Mom said, “I know tomorrow’s the last day of school and we should do something special. However, I have a doctor’s appointment.”
“That’s too bad,” Nora said.
“Is everything okay?” Dale asked. Mom did look a bit more pale than usual.
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
“You always say that,” Dale accused.
Mom sighed. “I missed my semiannual appointment with my cardiologist. It had been scheduled for just after we left. I just need to go in and have my heart checked, as always. Really, it isn’t anything to worry about.”
Dale looked at Nora, but she started talking about the projects she’d planned for the rest of the summer. Dale restrained himself from kicking her. Didn’t she see that Mom was lying? No, of course not. Nora never wanted to see, not when Mom was sick, not when Dad was mean.
While Dale finished up the dishes, Nora snuck back into the kitchen. She grabbed a couple hard-boiled eggs, some lunch meat, and an apple. “For our guest,” she whispered before heading back to her room.
Kostya wasn’t a guest. He was an intruder, set on disrupting their lives as much as the move to Oregon had. Dale thought for a moment about everything he’d left behind. He’d never said goodbye to Steve or Derik or any of his friends. He’d never tried contacting them. They had no idea what had happened. Dale figured they’d reason it out—both Steve and Derik had told him they thought his dad was a jerk.
Nora had at least said goodbye in a way—she’d sent a blast text to her friends, referring to the initials of a TV show about people going into witness protection. Then she’d maintained radio silence, like Dale.
They both missed their friends. However, Nora seemed to meet people more easily than Dale. She at least had girls she could eat lunch with, whom she walked to classes with. Dale bit down on his lower lip, hard, trying to distract himself. He was not going to cry. He shook his head, wincing at the pain in his throat. Damn fairies. He grew more angry, determined not to feel sorry for himself.
