Sonny released her. “What is she?” he asked.
Chloe’s eyes were golden, he noticed. She sidled toward him, suddenly dangerous. “I’ll bet you’ve got a few sweet tunes stored up in that pretty head of yours, Sonny Flannery. I’ll tell you what I know if you give me just a little taste….”
“Now just a minute, there!” Maddox spluttered.
“You’re not my type.” Sonny held his ground.
“Yeah, you’re not,” Maddox agreed feverishly. “You’re really, really not.”
She shrugged a thin shoulder and spun on her heel. “Then the girl’s story stays with me.” She moved swiftly up toward West Sixty-second Street.
“Damn,” Sonny swore softly.
He ran down the sidewalk after her.
Chloe slowed when she heard his footsteps, and turned.
From a distance, Sonny thought that he saw her eyes go red, hunger glowing in their depths. But by the time he reached her, they were just the flashing golden color they had been before.
“Just a taste,” she said in a low throaty voice.
Her arms wound around his neck like a strangling vine. Chloe fastened her lips on Sonny’s, and he felt the inside of his mouth go numb. A hollowing, paralyzing sensation crept down his throat, flooding through his chest. The terrible cold spread upward into his brain, a wave of ice behind his eyes. Helpless in the Siren’s iron grip, he felt her sifting through his memories. There was a tearing sensation deep in his mind and then a small, aching emptiness.
She’d taken a lullaby. The only memory he possessed of his mortal mother from when he was a baby. From far away, he heard himself sob once. Then he was falling backward; Maddox caught him and lowered him gently to sit with his back against the stone wall surrounding the park.
Through watering eyes, Sonny looked up to see Chloe standing statue still, eyes closed, her long fingers pressed to her lips. Maddox glared at her before turning back to Sonny, concerned.
“I’m all right,” Sonny said, trying to make himself believe it. “I’m all right.”
Chloe opened her eyes. “I’ll tell you now about the girl, Sonny Flannery.”
“Do you think she was telling the truth?”
“I didn’t hear a lie in her voice. And I don’t think you did either, Sonn.”
Sonny was silent.
“Sensitive information,” Maddox said carefully. “And it’s probably safe to assume, based on the Black Shuck attack, that we’re not the only ones to possess it.”
They leaped—Maddox nimbly, Sonny less so—over the stone wall and dropped into the undergrowth.
“Someone is after that girl, Sonny,” Maddox continued. “And now we know why.”
Sonny feared that Maddox was right, and that fear sent a wave of sick misery washing over him. “Do you think Chloe has told anyone else?”
“Dunno. She’s still alive, so…probably not.” Maddox put a hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “Doesn’t really matter. One way or another, somebody besides us knows. And word like that gets out. Won’t be long before the whole of the Otherworld knows.”
Sonny nodded, lost in the enormity of their discovery.
“Sonny…you’ve found the Faerie king’s daughter.”
XIX
“I ll met by moonlight, proud Titania!”
Gadzooks! Kelley smiled to herself. Jack really does have a great set of pipes!
She composed her expression into one of ethereal displeasure. “What, jealous Oberon,” she intoned with silky anger as she stepped from the upper platform down to where Gentleman Jack awaited, elegantly arrayed in a velvet cloak. His thick hair was swept back from his regal brow, and he looked every inch a king.
Kelley hoped she could pull off “regal” even half as well. She stood as tall and straight as she could and, as she reached the platform where Oberon stood, threw herself into the scene.
“Nice work, Kelley—you looked born to fairy royalty out there today.” Jack saluted her with his coffee cup. They were on a break and had retired to the greenroom after Quentin had finished running the scene through a few times.
Kelley leaned back in her chair and returned Jack’s salute with the cup that he’d poured for her out of his treasured thermos. It was awesome coffee. And, Kelley thought, what the heck: she actually deserved it. Despite another night of bad dreams—including the live-action ones—Kelley had to admit she’d done a wicked job in that scene.
Even Quentin had been uncharacteristically generous in his praise of her.
“Hnng,” he’d muttered. “You missed the hot spot for your light cue. Half a step downstage next time, please.”
For the Mighty Q, that was positively effusive.
And it had been so easy. The entire scene was about Oberon and Titania and the fact that the Natural Order of Things was being turned inside out by the squabbles and quarreling of these two powerful beings—all over the matter of a changeling child. The scene was fraught with stubborn pride and miscommunication. Kelley had drawn on personal experience and channeled all of her frustration and annoyance with Sonny Flannery into the scene and her relationship with Oberon. Talk about motivation.
After the break, Quentin wanted to go over the whole scene once more with the addition of the fairy attendants and Puck, so Kelley had remained in costume. But the brocade corset made her warm, so she went out into the courtyard for some air before they called her back to the stage.
Sitting on one of the old stone benches was a slightly bedraggled-looking Sonny Flannery. Kelley bit back a smile. But as she approached, she could also see that his expression was drawn. She stopped in front of him, sipping the last of her coffee.
“You’re a real glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” she asked.
“You have no idea,” Sonny muttered through clenched teeth, not meeting her gaze.
“If you’re here to apologize for last night, forget about it.” She couldn’t help the tone of her voice—she felt immediately defensive, remembering how he’d spoken to her the night before. “Your friend saw me safely home and, since I didn’t hear about anyone getting bitten by a rabid dog on the news this morning, I assume that Animal Control took your call seriously, at least.”
Kelley leaned on the back of the bench and regarded him. Sonny sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers laced. He seemed as though he was struggling to find something to say. Or, perhaps, to find a way to say it. Kelley wished he would just talk. The silence stretched out between them.
“Kelley…,” he said finally, “you’re in great danger.”
She straightened up and turned to go back inside.
“Kelley, wait!” Sonny was in front of her, blocking her path. Fast—but maybe not as fast as she was used to with him. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you. I’m just trying to be polite.” She stared up at him. “My parents taught me that it’s not nice to laugh at people.”
Sonny grimaced in frustration. His eyes, she noticed, were red-rimmed and gleamed with an almost feverish intensity. “Your parents didn’t teach you that.”
“Pardon?”
“They—whoever raised you—they were not your real parents.”
Kelley blinked at him.
“Did you hear me?” Sonny demanded. The vein at his temple pulsed, and Kelley thought he might actually have some kind of a meltdown right there in front of her. His breathing was ragged. “Did you?”
“Stop asking me that!” She took a step back. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Sonny pitched his voice low, as if he was afraid to be overheard. “Kelley…look, I know that this will come as a complete surprise to you. But…you are the daughter of a king.”
She tried not to laugh. “I’m the daughter of a doctor.”
Sonny shook his head. “I know that’s what they told you, and I know that’s what you want to believe, but—for your own safety—you must trust me.”
“Because I’m the daughter of a king,” Kelley answered back
, matter-of-fact, and crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the pull of the elastics holding on her fairy wings. She suddenly wished she’d taken them off before coming outside. “A real king?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“I understand.” Kelley smiled sweetly.
“You do?” He breathed deeply, a glimmer of relief shining in his eyes.
“I really do. You are a mental case.”
Sonny’s expression hardened again. “They lied to you. They did it to protect you, but it was a lie.”
“Sonny—”
“Your father is a very, very old power and he is not from this realm.”
“You are actually trying to tell me that my father—wait, sorry, my ‘real’ father—is from another country?”
He nodded. “Another world entirely. Actually.”
Kelley was speechless, her patience reaching its absolute end.
Sonny took another deep breath and barreled through his next words. “Your father—yes, your real father—is a king, and his name is Auberon—”
Kelley laughed out loud.
“Yes, I know—but Shakespeare didn’t make it all up, Faerie tales are sometimes true, and you are the heir to the Unseelie throne of the Faerie realms—”
“Stop it.”
“Kelley—”
“Stop. I said stop!” She held a hand up in front of his face as he opened his mouth again. She got it now. The gauze wings on her back suddenly felt like lead weights. “I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t want you to say my name. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to hear you say anything. Look…I don’t know if you’re a weirdo or a liar or just crazy, but you have to stop talking to me. You have to stop coming around here. I have a job to do and I can’t do it with you near!”
“Funny, I feel exactly the same way about you every time I see you in the park,” he muttered, turning away. But then he turned back to her, and his storm-gray stare fastened on her like a vise. “Kelley. Listen to me.”
“No. This is insane. I mean, okay, I get it. You’re very amusing, Sonny. A real practical joker.” She struggled a bit frantically at the knotted laces that held her wings on. “What kind of an idiot do you think I am? Do you really think I’m naïve enough to fall for this particular line of BS? Did you and your buddy Maddox come up with this over beers or something?”
“What? No!”
“Ha-ha, very funny—let’s mess with the girl who thinks she’s a fairy queen! I’m an actor. This is a role.” She shrugged out of the costume piece with violent, jerking motions, and threw the wings at Sonny. They hit him in the chest and fell to the ground at his feet. “And you can go to hell!”
“You think I’m delusional? You think I’m crazy or something? That this is all a joke?” His hands shot out and he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, shaking her. Then he released her and his long fingers moved down the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it with a lightning swiftness. He yanked the fabric aside, and Kelley gasped despite herself. His chest was heavily bandaged. There were dark stains seeping through in parallel gashes over the right side of his ribs. He flung his arms wide so that Kelley couldn’t help but see the blood. “Was that creature in the park a delusion? A joke? Funny. Those claws felt awfully real to me.”
“It was a dog,” Kelley protested weakly, her stomach heaving at the sight of Sonny’s blood. The Black Shuck web entry she had dismissed as fantasy suddenly flashed unbidden into her mind.
“Sure it was. A dog the size of a hay wagon with talons and glowing red eyes and—oh! I almost forgot—it ran without touching the ground.”
“It was dark….”
“I saw it just fine. Of course, I got a nice, close-up view as it was trying to rip my throat out. It won’t be trying that again.” The tone of his voice made it pretty clear what he meant by that.
“You killed it?”
Sonny held up his arm: His wrist was encircled by a band of coarse black hair, intricately braided and knotted. “I got lucky. But, by all means, if you really don’t believe me, and don’t believe that I was trying to protect you—that I’m trying to protect you now—just say so. And then, maybe next time someone from the Otherworld—that’s the place your father the Faerie king rules—tries to have you killed, I won’t even bother coming to your rescue. I could probably save myself some pain and suffering that way!”
Kelley was silent. Whatever Sonny saw in her eyes in that moment, her expression made him shrink from her—as though he had just slapped her across the face and regretted it profoundly. Shame coloring his cheeks, Sonny dropped his gaze and buttoned his shirt back up. He reached out a hand to Kelley in a gesture that might have been a silent apology, but she turned and walked back toward the theater.
Jack was standing on the steps when she got there. Wordlessly, he held the stage door open for her.
Once inside, Kelley stood with her head pressed against the wall, feeling a bit faint. From the other side of the door, she heard Jack’s voice, not so mellow at that moment.
“I don’t know what you said to upset her so, young man,” he said. “I don’t need to. All I need to know is that you aren’t going to be coming around here again. Because if you do, there’s a fairly good chance I will forget that most people call me Gentleman Jack. Do you understand?”
Kelley peered through a crack between the theater’s old oak doors and watched Sonny wordlessly hand her wings to Jack. Then he turned and walked out of the Avalon’s courtyard without once looking back.
Kelley shut the door to her dressing room and picked up her cell phone.
Her aunt answered on the first ring.
“Kelley?” she asked immediately. “Is everything all right?”
Kelley didn’t answer the question. “Emma…Was I…adopted?”
There was a pause. “What?” Emma’s voice, when it came, was pitched too high. “Oh, my dear! Why would you ask such a—”
“Don’t lie to me, Emma.” Kelley cut her aunt short. “I know about…about them. I know.”
“Oh, Kelley…” The long, sad sigh on the other end of the line told Kelley everything. Sonny had spoken the truth. As insane as that seemed, as much as Kelley had wanted it to be some elaborate practical joke, she knew suddenly that Sonny hadn’t lied.
“Em?” Kelley asked again, her voice quiet. Calm. “Please. Tell me.”
“You weren’t adopted, Kelley. Not exactly.” Emma’s voice, on the other hand, shook with emotion. “More like…”
“Abducted.”
“I…” The tremor stopped just short of becoming a sob. “Yes. You were stolen. I took you from them—from him—because he took my child from me.”
“How…Oh, Em—how could you?” Kelley didn’t even know what else to say.
“Madness. Grief.” The pain in her aunt’s voice reflected an old wound that had never fully healed. “I only wanted someone to love. It’s not an excuse, and I won’t blame you if you hate me forever.”
The crackling hiss of the phone connection stretched out in the silence that followed.
“I don’t hate you, Em,” Kelley said finally.
“I’ve denied you your birthright.” Emma was weeping. “Your destiny. I thought that I was doing a good thing, but it was all kinds of evil and I see that now. I only hope you can forgive me one day.”
It broke Kelley’s heart to hear her aunt’s grief. “Tell me about this ‘birthright,’ Emma,” she said gently.
She had to wait for a minute while Emma struggled to get hold of herself, but eventually her aunt was able to speak. “Do you remember the stories, Kelley—the ones I used to tell you about the Fair Folk?”
Of course she remembered. The fables. Folklore…cautionary tales of the fairies and their wicked deeds. She’d grown up steeped in it. Given even half an ear, Emma would rabbit on and on about the subject until her listener’s head exploded. Eventually Kelley had become immune to it.
And to all the rest. She’d learned to ignore…things, things that lurked
in the half-forgotten memories of her childhood. Things once kept at bay by the constant presence of rowan switches and iron charms near her bed, warded off by pots of wild marigold and primrose kept growing on the sills, and by Emma’s whispered invocations every night at the door of her room.
Later on, when she’d give fleeting thought to those days, Kelley remembered Emma’s “superstitions” as quaint. Once she’d grown older and stopped believing in things she’d once seen in the woods around home with her own eyes, Kelley had written Emma’s stories off as just that: stories. And her own encounters, the product of an overactive, childish mind. She had made herself forget. But now…
“I remember voices. Outside my bedroom window.”
“You used to tell me that.” Emma’s voice was choked with memory. “When you were young, you told me that. And it scared me half to death. I knew that you could see…them. Hear them. I could too—after I’d been to their world.”
“Faeries.”
“Yes, dear. The ones that came around the house were harmless, really. Only curious because they knew you were different. They just didn’t know why, exactly. We tried so hard to keep you hidden. Safe.”
“We?”
“Me. And your mum and dad…”
“You mean the Winslows.”
“Don’t be angry with them, Kelley,” Emma pleaded. “They loved you. And they tried their best to do right by you. By both of us. When they died in the car accident, I was heart-broken.”
“How…how did…” She didn’t even know how to phrase such a question.
But Emma knew what she asked. “They found me wandering, half out of my mind, in the middle of that great bloody park with you tucked in my coat, and they offered to take me in—back to their place in the country.”
“Why? Why didn’t they call you an ambulance? Or the cops?”
“I wouldn’t let them. I was confused. Frightened. Thousands of miles and a hundred years away from my own home…”
“I don’t understand.”
“That place. The Otherworld…” Emma’s voice went soft with remembered wonder. “It isn’t like it is here, Kelley. It’s beautiful there…too beautiful, somehow. Such a strange, dreaming place, and—just like in a dream—time is meaningless there. You see, once I had crossed over to steal you and then crossed back again, well…the world—this world—had changed. Decades had passed. I wasn’t even in my own country anymore. Dr. and Mrs. Winslow, I’m sure they thought I was just some poor unfortunate soul gone clear out of my head. But they told me they’d help me.” Emma’s laugh was a weary, battered sound in Kelley’s ear. “They’d been wanting a child themselves, you see. Desperately. But it was not to be. Until they found me. And you. We…made an arrangement.”
Wondrous Strange Page 11
