“That’s enough!” the bee man cried. “I don’t know why I had to get picked for this stupid job, but I’m finishing it now.”
He made a few odd movements with his hands and the bees swept in over the girls, covering their faces, necks, and arms, leaving open circles around their eyes and mouths.
“Don’t move!” he warned them. “Don’t even breathe or my little cousins will give you a thousand stings, and you’ll like that even less than being captured.”
Ruth stared at the bees covering her hands and then gasped. Riding each bee was a miniature version of the bee man who stood in front of them, each with a bow and a notched arrow. She turned her gaze to meet Grace’s. They didn’t have to speak. They each dropped the stone they were holding.
“That’s better,” the bee man said. “Now follow me.”
He made another odd movement with his hands and the air began to shimmer, just as it had when the ’sangman had stolen away the older twins.
“I think we’re in real trouble now,” Grace said.
Ruth wanted to nod, but she was too scared to move in any way except for how the bee man told them to.
“We should have left a note for Mama,” she said.
Then she and Grace followed the bee man into the shimmering air, and the world they knew was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Adie and Elsie
eeper in the woods and higher up in the hills, there was no opportunity for Adie or Elsie to have any sort of discussion with their captors.
Their queen had neither the interest nor the patience for dialogue with her captives. As soon as Adie started to ask a question, the queen waved a long, thin hand in her direction.
“Gag her,” she said. “Gag them both and bind their wrists.”
Footmen with ropes and strips of cloth ran from behind the horses to carry out her orders. Adie called out to the queen before they reached her and Elsie.
“Please,” she said. “We’ll be quiet. Don’t gag us.”
The queen studied her for a long moment, then gave a brisk nod.
“No gags,” she told the footmen. “But bind their wrists and if they speak out of turn again, gag them.”
Adie had a hundred things she wanted to know, but she kept quiet and held out her hands in front of her so that the footmen could tie them together, hoping that they wouldn’t insist on tying them behind her back. This way, she’d feel more balanced and less likely to fall flat on her face on the uneven ground if they had a long march ahead of them. Happily, Elsie followed her lead and the footmen made quick work of their job.
The ropes the footmen used to bind their wrists seemed to be made from braided grasses, but they were no less strong for that. The sisters were led off under one of the big beech trees above Aunt Lillian’s homestead, where they were kept under guard. The two girls sat down with their backs against the tree, leaning against each other as they listened to the conversation coming from where the queen and her court sat on their horses.
“Is there word on the girl yet?” the queen was saying. “The sooner we trade these sisters of hers for that wretched ’sangman, the happier I’ll be.”
“Not yet, madam,” one of the other riders replied.
Before he could go on, a footman came running up.
“The ’sangmen have the older twins,” he reported.
“Will she choose between the sisters?” the queen asked. “Does she fancy any above the others?”
“There’s no way of telling.”
“What about the younger twins?”
“We have scouts looking for them.”
Elsie leaned closer to Adie, her mouth near her older sister’s ear.
“What are they talking about?” she asked, her voice quieter than a breath.
Adie shrugged. She cast a glance to their nearest captors. When she saw they weren’t paying that close attention to them, she whispered in Elsie’s ear.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But it’s beginning to sound like Janey’s got us all caught up in something we have no business being mixed up in.”
“Do you know what ’sangmen are?”
“Haven’t a clue. But I’d guess they have something to do with ’sang.”
“And Janey was going out to harvest some yesterday.”
Adie gave a grim nod. “And it sounds as though these ’sangmen—whatever they are—have Laurel and Bess.”
“What did she mean about choosing between sisters?”
“I guess they were hoping to trade us for someone Janey has, but now things have gotten complicated because the other side has the twins to trade.”
“I don’t get any of this. Janey would never hurt anyone, never mind capture someone the way these people have.”
“I don’t think they’re people,” Adie said.
Elsie sighed. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”
They broke off when the queen glanced in their direction. Adie returned her glare with an innocent look and the queen’s attention turned away from her once more.
“Look,” Elsie whispered.
She nodded at the apple tree that Root was still guarding. The fairies’ dogs had formed a half circle around him, effectively penning him in. But Root paid no attention to them. His gaze stayed fixed on the tree in front of him like there wasn’t a fairy court behind him.
Oh, why didn’t you run off? Adie thought. You’ll be no match for that many dogs and who knows what magical powers they have.
But oddly enough, the fairy dogs showed no inclination of doing more than keeping Root penned up against the apple tree. Adie wondered why. Perhaps it was only because the fairy queen hadn’t given the order for them to attack yet. Then she returned her attention to the conversation of the queen and her courtiers and the answer came.
“Has anyone tracked down the girl yet?” the queen was asking.
There was a moment of silence before one of her court replied.
“No, madam. We only know she’s with the Apple Tree Man, but we can’t reach them because the dog’s barring the way through Applejack’s door and no one knows where it opens on the other side.”
“Then remove the dog.”
That command drew another silence. Apparently, Adie realized, no one liked to deliver bad news to their cranky queen.
“We can’t,” one of the riders said. “It won’t meet our gaze.”
Adie and Elsie exchanged glances.
“Does that mean what I think it does?” Elsie whispered.
Adie shrugged. She wasn’t sure, but what it seemed the fairies were saying was that you had to acknowledge their presence before they could interact with you. So maybe if they just concentrated on not believing the fairy court was here…
Before she could go any further with that, the queen began to speak again.
“This should have been over long ago,” she complained. “We should have had a dead ’sangman by now and moved on to other matters.”
“But the princess… your daughter. The ’sangmen still have her.”
“She’s no longer my daughter,” the queen said. “Not after she’s soiled herself by loving a ’sangman. Let her live in the dirt with them and see how she likes it.”
Now that was harsh, Adie thought. She could remember when she was a little girl, reading fairy tales and watching Disney movies, how desperately she’d wanted to meet a fairy. Unlike Janey, she’d long grown out of that, but now she was happy she hadn’t gotten her wish back then. And would have been happier still not to be experiencing this. The fairy queen was too much like an evil stepmother. But she supposed that was to be expected, considering the kind of folklore that was told in these hills. Many of Aunt Lillian’s stories were downright gruesome.
Adie frowned, wishing she hadn’t started this train of thought.
Elsie pressed against her and whispered, “I think we should try to follow Root’s lead and, I don’t know, disbelieve in these horrible people.”
It was worth a
try, Adie supposed. Though she could see it would be hard. Root might be able to focus entirely on one thing, but he was a dog and what did he know? Dogs already had a one-track mind. But she and Elsie had bound wrists to contend with. Noisy captors, jingling bridles.
She was about to close her eyes and give it a try, but the chance was gone.
A new commotion erupted on the far side of the fairy court. Adie craned her neck to see who had arrived, and her heart sank. Their arms and faces might have been covered in bees, but she had no trouble recognizing that it was Grace and Ruth who were under all those buzzing insects.
“This just gets worse and worse,” Elsie moaned beside her.
Adie gave a slow nod.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Laurel and Bess
aurel found herself wishing that she hadn’t ignored Bess’s common sense and simply left well enough alone. In fact, what she really wished was that they were back in the garden, doing their chores like they’d promised Mama they would. Doing chores would be way better than being here.
It was pitch dark and damp in the place the little man had brought them. Underground, she assumed, since the floor was dirt, as were the walls. She hadn’t been able to reach up far enough to touch the ceiling.
“Don’t fret,” the little tree man had said before closing the door. “You won’t be here long.”
Easy enough for him to say.
She felt around in the dark until her fingers touched the sleeve of Bess’s shirt.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” she said.
“That’s okay.” Bess found Laurel’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I mean, it’s not okay being here, but it’s not your fault that he tricked us with his fairy music and changed our instruments into stones.”
“If I hadn’t been so greedy with that contest business—”
“He would have just found some other way to get us here.”
“But still…”
“Still, nothing,” Bess said. “There was some kind of magic spell in that music of his. It made my head go all fuzzy and probably did the same to you.”
Laurel thought about that. She had felt all muddled for the first while, but now it was as though a fog had lifted and she felt more clearheaded than she had in hours.
“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” she asked.
“I’m trying not to think about it,” Bess said.
“I wish I’d stuck some of that garlic from the garden in my pocket. Or maybe we could make a cross.”
Bess actually laughed. The sound of it made Laurel feel better, like maybe the end of the world wasn’t quite here yet.
“You’re thinking of vampires,” Bess said.
“Well, what don’t little tree men like?”
“Who knows? Fire, probably.”
“Do you have any matches?”
“Sure. Right here in my pocket with my corncob pipe.”
Laurel sighed. “That’s okay. We haven’t got anything to burn anyway.”
Bess gave her hand another squeeze.
“We just have to be patient,” she said, “and wait for our chance.”
“And then we kick butt.”
“I know I’d like to kick something.”
A Savage Grace
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sarah Jane
t was a funny thing about that world on the other side of the Apple Tree Man’s door. You’d think that Aunt Lillian and I would be overwhelmed when we went through to the Otherworld, but it didn’t happen that way.
Sure, the place was a shock to our senses. Colors were more intense… oh, what am I saying? Everything was more intense. The sharp colors, the crisp air we breathed, the lush texture of the grass, trilling birdsong drifting down from the trees, and an endless azure-blue sky above. But I remembered what the Apple Tree Man had told us about coming to this place—how we’d never want to leave, and I didn’t feel that way at all.
When I said as much, the Apple Tree Man gave me a funny look. I thought maybe I’d offended him, so I tried to explain.
“When I was younger,” I said, “we moved all the time, from one trailer park to another. It got so I never felt like I fit in, not anywhere we lived. I’m not blaming Mama and Daddy—that’s just the way it was. Leastwise, it was until we moved to Granny Burrell’s farm. Now I’ve lived there for pretty much as long as I’ve lived in all those other places put together, and you know what? I really like it.
“I like my familiar woods, watching the changes settle on them, season after season. I don’t feel like a visitor anymore. I’m a neighbor now. I belong. And pretty as this place is, I don’t belong here. I feel it like a buzz just under my skin. It’s saying, ‘You’ve got another home.’ ”
“You could’ve took the words right out of my mouth,” Aunt Lillian said. “I remember how scared I was of those woods around the homestead when I first came to live with my aunt Em. But that feeling went away pretty quick and I’ve never wanted to leave them since. Even Paradise is going to seem wanting after living in those hills of ours.”
The Apple Tree Man shook his head as he looked from her to me.
“I guess a body’s never too old to be surprised,” he said, “but I have to tell you, I had no idea you were so strong.”
“Strong?” I said.
He nodded. “To resist the enchantments of this place so effortlessly.”
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Aunt Lillian said. “ ’Bout wasted years and all.”
He nodded again, slower this time. I guess it finally hit him that he didn’t have to keep Aunt Lillian at a distance—didn’t have to, never had to. He got this hangdog look in his eyes that made me want to tell a joke or something, just to cheer him up.
“I just didn’t know,” he said.
“It’s the red hair that makes them strong, Applejack,” a voice said from above. “Why else do you think we cherish it so?”
Aunt Lillian and I fairly jumped out of our skins. We looked up and saw what we thought was a cat sitting up there on a branch, looking back down at us. Except it wasn’t really a cat. It was more like a strange little cat man with a long tail and all covered with black fur and catlike features. It had fingers like me, but a cat’s retracting claws that were protruding at the moment as he cleaned them with a bright pink tongue.
“How come fairy creatures like to talk to me from out of trees?” Aunt Lillian said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s an old story.”
The cat man stretched out along his branch, head propped up on one hand. He looked to be about twice the height of our little unconscious ’sangman, but that still only made him a couple of feet tall.
“Oh, do tell,” he said.
But Aunt Lillian had already looked away, her attention now on the Apple Tree Man.
“He called you Applejack,” she said. “Is that your real name—the one you never told me?”
“It’s a name,” the Apple Tree Man said. “The one by which I’m known in this place, just like I’m the Apple Tree Man in your world.”
“So what is your name?” I asked.
“Well, when he’s drunk,” the cat man said, “we call him Billy Cider.”
“We don’t have names the way you do,” the Apple Tree Man said. “We don’t have any need for them. All we have are what people call us.”
“Like sometimes,” the cat man said, “people call me Li’l Pater.” He waited a beat, then added, “You know, because I could be a smaller version of the Father of Cats.”
Aunt Lillian looked back up at him and smiled. “A much smaller version,” she said. “And not nearly as fierce.”
He shrugged, then continued grooming his claws. “It’s just what some people call me.”
I got the feeling that this was something he tried out on every new person he met, hoping that they’d think maybe he really was kin to that big old black panther that Aunt Lillian had met when she was
younger than me.
“We can call you that,” I said.
“What are you doing here?” the Apple Tree Man asked.
Li’l Pater smiled. “I came to see the fireworks, and oh my, they should be something.”
“Fireworks?” I asked.
“He doesn’t mean actual fireworks,” the Apple Tree Man explained.
“You do know that the bee queen’s really unhappy with you?” Li’l Pater asked.
The Apple Tree Man sighed, then glanced at Aunt Lillian. “She’d better get in line.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Aunt Lillian told him. “Just disappointed you never took the chance.”
“Why’s the bee queen mad?” I asked.
“When isn’t she mad?” Li’l Pater replied. “But this time it’s because that little ’sangman you’ve got stowed away in that basket stole away her daughter, and you got in the middle of her settling her debt with him.”
I looked at the Apple Tree Man. “I thought that happened ages ago.”
“It did,” Li’l Pater said before the Apple Tree Man could speak. “The first time. But this is the seventh daughter of hers that’s gone off and wed a ’sangman. She was sure the sixth would be the last. But for good measure she kept this one in a hive as tall as a tree, locked up in a little room way up top with only a window to look out of.”
“Like Rapunzel.”
“Don’t know her. What court is she from?”
“It’s a tale in a storybook.”
“This isn’t a story,” Li’l Pater said.
“What I don’t understand,” Aunt Lillian said, “is why these daughters of hers keep running off to marry ’sangmen. You say there’ve been seven now?”
“Just like me and my sisters,” I said.
“You’ve all married ’sangmen?” Li’l Pater asked.
“No, I just meant there’s seven of us, too.”
Li’l Pater nodded. “Lucky number. ’Specially when you add in the red hair.”
“What’s so special about red hair?”
“Everything. A fairy can’t hardly resist a red-haired human. It’s as much a reason for them to be kidnapping your sisters as to make a bargain with you.”
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