by Leah Cutter
“Cute, eh?” Kostya asked, coming over to retrieve his “pet.”
Nora’s heart still beat loudly in her chest. “What is that?”
“It’s my ohotnik,” Kostya said proudly. It wrapped its front legs around his wrist and shivered when he stroked a finger down its back.
Dead black eyes stared at Nora. A long red jewel made up its body, as if it were full of blood. The wings weren’t too bad, made of filigreed wire, except they flapped with an annoying buzzing sound. The back of its head lay open, showing the moving gears. “What’s it for?” Nora asked.
“Just a companion,” Kostya said, shrugging.
Nora didn’t believe him. Kostya had put too much work into this thing for it to be just a toy. She also wondered about the fat black stinger pointing from its rear.
“I must go now,” Kostya said, interrupting Nora’s study. Only then did Nora notice that the bag of the dwarf’s belongings—his tools, spare parts, and the clothes Nora and Dale had given him—lay at his feet. “I have imposed on your hospitality for too long.”
Nora knew that she should make polite noises and tell Kostya no, not at all, but she couldn’t. “Where will you go?” Nora asked instead.
“To the tunnels far to the north,” the dwarf told her. “The fairies still seek me for their mistaken revenge. It’s better I leave for now.”
“Mr. Patterson, our landlord, is going to put cold iron and magnets above every window,” Nora blurted out.
Kostya grew still for a moment, then he nodded. “Good. That’s good. That will protect you from the fairies.” He paused, then added, “It was a delight to meet you, my dear. And perhaps to set your feet down the right path.”
“Yes,” Nora told him woodenly. “A pleasure.”
Immediately after Kostya left, Nora closed and locked the window, then removed the books he’d set up as steps. She went back to the kitchen, gathered up all the magnets from the front of the refrigerator, and placed them on the sills of her windows. Maybe they’d help, or maybe Mr. Patterson was crazy and Kostya still lied. Still, they made her feel better.
***
Nora looked with worry from her mom to her brother and back. They sat together, silently at the dining room table. Dale shoveled food into his mouth as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. He was even eating the brussels sprouts without complaint. He’d been unnaturally pale when he’d gotten home from the fairy kingdom, swaying on his feet.
Mom was also pale and quiet. She’d complained of sleeping badly—some kind of nightmare. Nora was pretty sure it was more than just that. Mom shouldn’t have felt sick all day from a nightmare. More than once, Nora had caught her massaging her left hand. She suspected something had gone wrong with her mom’s pacemaker, but that felt too big to say out loud. Mom just picked at her food.
Nora felt like kicking Dale. He was supposed to notice these things, to worry about Mom and Nora. That was his job, not hers.
Dale escaped directly to his room after dinner, even though it was still his turn to do the dishes. Mom went to lie down again. Nora did the dishes, figuring it was the path of least resistance. She didn’t want to yell at Dale to get him to do them, and she knew Mom didn’t have the strength to make him do them.
Nora’s anger built as she washed and dried. The fairies hadn’t fed Dale or taken care of him. They’d just drained him. Kostya was no better, she was willing to admit. He’d wanted something. Now that he had whatever it was, he’d taken off. He hadn’t been there to help them.
When Nora finished the last dish, she marched into Dale’s room without knocking. He looked up guiltily from where he sat on the floor, the fairy machinery spread out before him.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nora accused.
“What are you talking about?” Dale asked, looking back down at the work before him.
“Didn’t you see Mom tonight?”
“She’s fine,” Dale said with an exasperated sigh.
“No, she’s not. She’s been pale all day, and hasn’t had any energy. I think something’s wrong with her heart.”
Dale looked guilty for a moment, then his mouth thinned into a straight line. “She’s fine. Isn’t that what you always tell me? She’s just got a cold or something.”
Nora crossed her arms over her chest to hold in the hurt. “Something’s wrong with you, too.”
“Maybe there’s just something wrong with you,” Dale said. “All your specialness drained away. Merely ordinary.”
Bewildered, Nora asked, “What are you talking about? You’re the one who’s special. You remind Mom of Grandpa Lewis. You can put anything together, figure out any problem. I’m not the special one. You are.”
“You’re right. I am,” Dale declared. “Now I have some special work to do.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Nora asked. “You’re an idiot sometimes, but not this bad. You care about Mom. But now, all you care about is your stupid machine.”
“That’s all I’ve ever cared about, Nora.”
“No,” Nora denied, shaking her head. “You’re seriously demented if you think that. You care about us. About Mom and me. You’re not just a tinker. It’s the fairies.”
“The fairies understand me better than you ever will,” Dale hissed. “They’re ordered. And clean. And perfect.”
Understanding froze Nora in place. She knew now why Dale couldn’t talk about the kingdom before. “Magic,” she whispered. “They’ve put magic on you.”
Dale looked uncomfortable and wouldn’t meet Nora’s eye. “Get out.”
Nora unfroze enough to walk to the door. Before she left, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I will free you from them, Dale. I promise.”
***
Adele performed her illusions as she walked down the spiral staircase to the workroom. She hid her warrior teeth, softened her features, and grew a few inches taller, so she would look as beautiful as Dale remembered her. She threw open the big double doors with magic, not bothering to touch them, and then swept into the room.
No gushing human greeted her. Only Cornelius stood there. He didn’t turn to say hello. His eyes remained riveted to the great machine. The smell of burnt wire still hung in the air.
“Where’s the Tinker?” Adele demanded.
“I sent him home,” Cornelius said.
“Why?” Adele fumed. He had no right. She needed to make sure the human was still properly enthralled.
Cornelius turned from the machine. “You were right. He’s smart. Really smart. I think he’s figured out the true purpose of your machine.”
Adele grew very still. Did Cornelius know? Would he join her?
“It’s a clever design,” Cornelius said, returning his gaze to the machine. “Unless you know what you’re looking for, the extra power reserves appear to be a backup system.”
“And?” Adele asked, drawing closer to Cornelius. Fear made her wings unfold slightly.
“It isn’t a barrier. Or merely a barrier. Is it?” Cornelius turned his disapproving glare on Adele. “It will kill all the humans.”
Adele laughed with relief. “No, it won’t. It isn’t a killing machine.”
Cornelius looked puzzled. “It will disrupt their magnetic fields.”
“True. However, it won’t kill them. Just keep them away.”
Cornelius gazed over Adele’s shoulder for a moment. “I see,” he said quietly. “It will kill their machines, won’t it?”
“Yes.” Adele waited while Cornelius continued to think.
“Why?”
“To drive them away,” Adele admitted.
“So we can take over, go back up into the skies, yes?”
Adele nodded. “Exactly!” She moved closer to Cornelius, speaking more quietly. “The fairies from the southern kingdom would join us.”
Cornelius grew still, then looked back at the machine. “You were born in the country, weren’t you?” he asked, as if speaking to himself.
Adele bristled. “Of course I was. I
’ve never denied it.”
“You spent your life outside. Whereas I grew up in old London,” Cornelius replied. “Underground all my life. Most of the court came from there as well. Coming to the New World was terrifying. Thrilling, too. However, now, these old bones are happy for their home. Why do you think the royals rarely go out on raids with the warriors? They’re uncomfortable with all that sky.”
Adele backed away, shocked. She’d believed Cornelius, of all the royals, would understand. She remembered how the royals had flown during their march across the New World. They’d fly again, and love it. She was certain.
“I won’t speak of your plans, my queen,” Cornelius told her, bowing formally. “However, I must ask you not to include me in them anymore. Now I must beg my leave of you.”
Adele debated briefly about not granting it. How could she do this without him, her best friend, at her side? Instead, she replied, “You may go.”
“Good night, my queen,” Cornelius replied formally, bowing again before leaving.
Adele waited until he’d reached the staircase before she slammed the doors shut. How dare he deny her? How could he not share her dream? Adele looked up at the grand machinery again, telling herself that it didn’t matter. Though only the warriors ever ventured under the open sky, she knew that given a chance, the rest of her people would remember their wings. The fairies from the southern kingdom did. They would stand behind her. The royals just didn’t know what they really wanted.
The machine was close to finished. She could tell that, flying around it. The human Tinker was a marvel. But what was she going to do about Cornelius? How long before he talked with the others in the court? Or before he tried to free Dale?
Maybe there was another project Adele could direct Cornelius to, something of importance that would leave Dale free to work under her sole control. Because if she couldn’t distract Cornelius, she would have to eliminate him. Maybe he would have an accident in his workshop. Accidents happened all the time.
***
Dale dismissed Nora’s fears, turning the smooth amethyst stone over and over in his fingers. Maybe he could never talk about Queen Adele, the kingdom, or even the machine. He was still himself. Only improved. He understood machines so much better now. Better than Grandpa Lewis or Cornelius or even the queen.
Still, Dale needed to check one last thing. He reached for two magnets from his desk. An unexpected shock jarred him, pricking the hand in his pocket. The stone from the queen didn’t like the magnets. He remembered Mr. Patterson, their landlord, “protecting” the house with cold iron and magnets.
Maybe their landlord wasn’t crazy. Maybe he knew about fairies.
Dale put the magnets on one side of the machine. He forced himself to take the amethyst out of his pocket and put it on the far side. He’d suspected that the grand machine in the fairy kingdom had something to do with electronics, though the fairies didn’t use any of that kind of technology.
First, Dale jimmied the gears to start the machine. Then he brought the magnets closer.
Nothing—no reaction.
Dale put the fairy stone into the machine’s funnel opening. After two seconds, the magnets flew off the plastic and struck the door with force. Dale quickly removed the fairy stone, but not fast enough. All the lights in the house went out again.
Thaddeus’ machine wasn’t just a barrier to drive away humans. It killed all electronics, like an electronic pulse machine. However, it was a thousand times stronger, because it killed all machines, big and small alike. Given the size of the Thaddeus’ clockwork mechanism, it would blanket all of Oregon, much of Washington, as well as northern California.
Queen Adele knew the true purpose of the machine. Cornelius hadn’t, until Dale had traced all the wiring for him—did he now?
Dale fingered the amethyst stone. Once the machine started, all the humans would leave, including his sister and his mom. Only Dale would stay behind. He’d be alone with the perfection of the fairy kingdom. Needed. Wanted. Loved.
***
Kostya positioned himself carefully in the tall grass just as the morning light struck the horizon, lightening the clouds there. Dew hung heavily from the stems and leaves. Angry gulls cried from the water, their nests regularly raided by fairies.
The Tinker didn’t even look up as he passed. Kostya could have shouted and the boy wouldn’t have heard. He was too driven to return to the fairies, too enthralled to notice anything but his goal. Kostya was glad he’d speeded up his plans. Given the lurching gait of the boy, he didn’t know if Dale would ever return to the surface again.
Kostya muttered a command and the little ohotnik gamely leaped off the tall grass and onto Dale’s backpack. It quickly scurried under a fold, hiding out of sight. The boy hadn’t noticed. He’d carry it deep into the fairy kingdom, directly to their great machine.
Tiny jewels like eggs filled the ohotnik’s belly. Its nature was to seek oiled spots and to deposit one of the jewels in each. When the fairies started the machine, the little “eggs” would hatch, sucking the power into each of themselves, then exploding it outward. If Kostya understood the working of the fairy machines correctly, the power would build until it grew overwhelming. The explosion would destroy the entire kingdom.
Kostya would have his revenge.
Chapter Eleven
“Excuse me,” Chris said to the cute blond librarian. “I need my printouts.”
The young woman rose from her desk and went to the printer. “What did you print?”
“Pictures of my family. We’re on vacation,” Chris smoothly lied.
The woman looked through the pages, finally pulling out three. “These?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Chris said, reaching for them.
“That will be one dollar, forty cents, please.”
“What?” Chris asked, pretending outrage, even though he’d had to click through three acceptance forms when he sent the pictures to the color printer.
The woman sighed as if she’d heard it all a thousand times before. “If you want to use the black-and-white printer, it’s free. The color printer costs thirty-five cents a page.”
“Come on, we’re on vacation. Can’t you cut me a break?”
The woman stared at him. Her glasses made her eyes look bugged out. “One forty, please.”
“Fine. But what is this great country of ours coming to when the services in a library aren’t free?” Chris asked with an exaggerated sigh.
The woman didn’t deign to answer him, just handed him his change.
Printouts in hand, Chris sat back down at the computer terminal closest to the window, which had the best light. He pored over the printed photos, searching, even bringing the picture closer to his eyes, wishing again for some kind of magnifying glass. He’d used the free software on the library computer to blow the shot up as much as he could.
There. Right there. The curve of Dale’s head was wrong. It didn’t flow smoothly from his neck. While the twin’s faces were clear, Denise’s was blurred, as if she sat in different light. These pictures had been Photoshopped. Denise and the kids weren’t here, in this bigger town. They were still in the other town. Robert had been clever, too clever, getting Chris out of town.
Chris thought for a moment. He’d already paid for his hotel room. No sense in wasting good money. He’d leave in the morning. Then he’d drive down every street, ask every grocery store clerk, check every hospital…
Wait. Chris cursed himself. Of course, he just had to check the hospitals. Denise had that heart condition, and she was too responsible not to keep regular appointments.
Chris turned back to the computer, searching for cardiologists in the town where Denise lived. The one with the foreign-sounding name—Doctor Jan—worked out of a hospital. That was who Chris needed to see.
***
“Come on, come on!” Robert yelled with the rest of the men in the back room of the betting parlor. The TV that filled the wall showed the outfielder rac
ing for the baseball.
“Your phone’s beeping.”
Robert groaned with everyone else in the room when the player caught it.
“Hey—your phone’s beeping.”
“What? Oh.” Robert finally noticed the distinctive warning beep. “Thanks,” he told the guy standing next to him. Robert groaned again when he saw that Chris was on his way back into town. He looked at the chits in his hand, quickly counting his bets. He barely had enough money to cover them. Maybe he could place just one more, then he’d be set. No, he couldn’t do that. He had to go see Chris.
Robert backed away from the other men and turned toward the door. Two bouncers stood there. “You through for the day?” asked the one on the left. He had a military-style haircut and wore a navy-blue polo shirt.
“Got a friend coming into town,” Robert told him.
The other pulled out his phone and looked at a list. “You sure you’re going now? You have a bit of a bill.” He nodded his bald head.
“This friend owes me money,” Robert said, sweating already but trying to play it cool. “I can pay you once he pays me.”
“You know we don’t take IOUs,” the bald one on the right said.
“Look, look, I’m good for it, okay?” Robert told them. “See, wait, see.” He pulled out the bad check Chris had given him. “He owes me twice that.”
“This could cover your bill,” the haircut said.
“No,” Robert said, shaking his head vehemently. “It’s bad.”
The pair of them looked at him curiously.
“I’d never knowingly pass bad paper,” Robert told them, drawing himself up. “That’s just stupid.” He had his standards.
They two bouncers looked at each other. “You know, for a fee, we could probably get this money for you,” the bald one said, nodding slowly.
“Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours who just came into town, all right?”
***
Nora woke to cool blue skies and a huge determination: to free her brother from the fairies. She was a Maker and she was going to make something happen. It didn’t matter if magic made her uncomfortable. He was her brother, her family, and she wasn’t going to have it broken further apart.
