He was wearing his leprechaun cap, so there was little I could do to him, but I drew my wand anyway.
‘Returned from the pixies, I see,’ he said. Then his face turned serious. ‘Dangerous for you to be here, Zaria. For you, and for me.’
‘Why?’
He shook his grey-blue head. ‘You may be a Feynere, but nothing can save you from carelessness.’
‘I’m not careless!’
‘Oh?’ His gravelly voice had risen a notch. ‘You’re here without even attempting a disguise.’ He tapped his temple. ‘Acting foolish.’
‘I’m here because I need to use your portal to Earth. Where is it?’
A flash of surprise crossed his face and then he pulled a dull expression. ‘Portal?’ As if he didn’t know what I meant.
‘Just tell me.’ I gripped my wand tighter. ‘I have to get to Earth. Now!’
‘Why not take the portal that brought you so close to Pixandelle?’ He stared pointedly at the charm around my neck.
My portal! Did Laz know everything that happened in Feyland?
‘I wouldn’t be able to find it,’ I snapped. ‘It’s not marked.’ From the Feyland side.
‘Sorry. Unlike you, I know where my portal is,’ he said. ‘But no one else does. And that’s how it’s going to stay.’
I shook my wand. ‘Your future depends on my getting through safely.’
Laz clicked his tongue. ‘You don’t say.’
Raising my wand high, I infused it and pointed at a tall stack of crates. ‘I hear coffee smells gruesome when it gets over-roasted.’
‘So it does, so it does.’ The genie put up a hand. ‘No need for a display, Zaria.’ He stood, his calculating eyes on my wand.
‘And I will not pay you a toll,’ I said, wand still poised. I was quite willing to blow up not only all the coffee barrels in this room, but everything else the smuggler might hold dear.
He must have sensed my mood, because he stopped resisting. ‘Follow me.’
Chapter Twenty-two
SONNIA IS THE ONLY FOOD THAT FEY FOLK REQUIRE FOR HEALTH AND STRENGTH. IT IS OFTEN PICKED FRESH, BUT IT MAY ALSO BE DRIED AND STEEPED AS A TEA. HOT TEA, WELL BREWED, IS A PLEASURE ENJOYED NOT ONLY BY FEY FOLK, BUT ALSO BY THE MORE INTELLIGENT SPECIMENS OF THE HUMAN RACE. AND THOUGH MAGIC HAS NO WORTH WHEN IT COMES TO HELPING A HEART THROWN INTO DESPAIR, A STOUT POT OF TEA MAY BE BENEFICIAL AT SUCH TIMES.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
LAZ TOOK ME into another small room. We squeezed past several barrels to wedge ourselves into the only open corner. He gestured at the wall.
‘Where does it lead?’ I asked.
‘Storage space. In a basement,’ he answered.
‘Does it have a barrier against humans?’
‘Nothing but the best.’
I mumbled my thanks and then stepped through the portal into a large room with cement walls. Stray cobwebs hung from solid wooden beams in the ceiling, but the rest of the place was clean, and well lit with electric lights. The air smelled like Laz’s café: warm, rich and heady. Coffee. Of course.
Bags and barrels lined an aisle wide enough for my wings to fan out comfortably. Sucking in a large breath, I waved my wand. ‘Take away my wings till I ask for them again.’
The change was sudden, and I stumbled sideways, steadying myself against a big barrel. I could hear footsteps from above, small thuds coming and going on the floor over my head. But the basement room was empty of people.
I infused my wand again. ‘Make my skin a human colour and dress me in human clothes.’ I wanted to pass for human, and my lavender skin and fairy gown would get in the way. After all, human beings didn’t have the variety of skin colour that fairies and genies did. Also, the human girls I had seen did not wear soft gowns that flowed around their ankles.
My magic delivered faded blue trousers, a soft black shirt and grey jacket, and bouncy shoes with laces. Looking at my hands, I saw that my skin colour had changed to one of the standard human shades – like the cocoa Laz had served to Meechem. I tucked the sorren necklace inside my shirt. No human would find it appealing.
Smiling a little, I slid my wand into an inside pocket of the jacket, and practised walking up and down. Without my wings for balance, I shuffled awkwardly and had to clutch at coffee barrels, but after a while I got all the way down one of the aisles without holding on.
I turned down a different aisle. The barrels in this one had been opened; lids were fitted loosely over the tops. I lifted one of the lids and saw a scoop among the shiny beans. Curious, I dipped my hands in the barrel. The aroma of coffee grew stronger.
A nearby door banged open, and a tall man hurried through it. His dark skin reminded me of Meteor’s, but he didn’t have striped hair or green eyes; his hair was short and black, his eyes deep brown.
When he saw me, he gasped. ‘What the—? What do you think you’re doing?’
I pulled my hands out of the barrel and stood unsteadily.
‘A little young to be stealing, aren’t you?’ he asked.
‘I’m not stealing!’
The man advanced on me. ‘Oh? Then what’re you doing down here, punk?’
I spread my hands to show him they were empty. ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing? You expect me to believe that?’ He whipped out a small black device and tapped it with a finger.
‘It’s true!’ I cried.
The man held the device to his ear. ‘Yeah, Jim, call the police. There’s a kid down in the storage room … Yup … Girl … Yup.’ He slipped the thing into a pocket and took a step closer, peering into my eyes. ‘You high?’
‘High?’ I asked. No. My wings are gone, and I’m standing on the floor.
‘Purple contacts, eh? Who you workin’ for, kid?’ He shook his finger in my face, his voice loud. ‘All this time, merchandise disappearing and we have no clue who’s taking it. Looks like we’ll find out now. And if you tell me how you’ve been knocking out my cameras, I might go easy on you.’
I backed away from him.
‘Hey,’ the man asked. ‘You hurt?’
‘No.’
‘Why’re you limping?’
‘I’m not.’ I took another step backwards and staggered into a shelf. A big barrel tipped towards the floor; I barely had time to get out of the way before it fell. The lid popped off. Coffee beans streamed out, jumping across the floor as if alive.
‘You are high.’ The man reached for me. I tried to slither away but my feet slid on the spilled beans.
‘Stop right there, young lady!’
What else could I do? I pulled out my wand. ‘Transera nos,’ I said, and visualized the porch outside Sam’s house.
Standing by Sam’s front window, I peered inside. No movement. I thought by this time in the afternoon some of the humans would be home, but I was wrong.
The leaves of the tree in the front yard were turning red and orange; a few had fallen to the ground. Stepping off the porch to pick up one of the leaves, I admired its pattern and the yellow veins running through it. I brought it to my nose and sniffed the delicious spiciness of Earth.
Warm thrills travelled over me at the thought of seeing Sam Seabolt in daylight. Not only would I see him, but if everything turned out as I hoped, I’d get the chance to talk with him for a while in my human disguise.
When we’d met before, he couldn’t feel natural around me; he was too nervous about talking with a fairy. First, he thought it meant he was losing his mind and ‘seeing things’. And when he began to believe in me, I couldn’t stay visible for long because I knew Lily Morganite might be looking for me in the fey scopes. All our conversations had been short and fraught with danger. But today, it would be different. Today, maybe I could get to know him the way a human friend would do.
I mustn’t wait for him on his front porch, that much I knew. After all, I would appear to be a stranger, and human strangers didn’t make a habit of waiting for each other like that. I would go out to the street, and th
en when he came home I would walk towards him.
Starting down the walkway, I fumbled a little for balance. I stood on the pavement near his house, my eyes roaming over the human neighbourhood. I barely had time to admire the tree across the street with its brilliant yellow leaves before I saw Sam walking towards me. Forgetting to pay attention to my feet, I fell. If I hadn’t been wearing a jacket, I would have torn my skin.
‘Are you OK?’ He bent and offered me a hand.
I took it, and instantly felt pleasant heat run down my arm. ‘Thank you,’ I gasped as he pulled me up.
He blinked. ‘Do I know you?’ He seemed to be looking at the top of my head more than at my face, but I was looking at all the beautiful colours in his eyes: the amber, the hazel, and the brown lit with gold.
‘I’m Zaria,’ I answered.
His eyes met mine, and he said, ‘Whoa. Are those purple contacts?’
‘Uh,’ I answered.
‘Zaria. I’m Sam. Do you live around here?’
‘Yes,’ I lied.
‘Just move in?’
‘Yes.’
He smiled in a welcoming way. ‘You going to Coyote High?’
I nodded hesitantly. Was I giving the right answers? The word ‘high’ seemed to be a favourite with humans, and yet they were unable to fly without the help of machines.
Sam smiled more warmly. ‘Sophomore?’
With no idea what he meant I nodded again, suddenly wishing Laz were standing invisibly at my shoulder so he could guide me through these strange human customs. With all his journeys to Earth, he would surely understand.
‘That must be where I’ve seen you,’ Sam said. ‘But you’re not in any of my classes, are you?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m interested in comets,’ I said, hoping I wasn’t breaking social rules.
He lifted one eyebrow. ‘You like comets?’
‘Yes.’
Sam gave a short laugh. ‘You don’t look like an astronomy geek.’
Astronomy geek?
‘That’s OK,’ he told me, smiling. ‘I’m a geek too. And my dad’s one of the best exobiologists in the world.’ He sounded proud.
Exobiologist. This was a human word I didn’t know. ‘I heard about him,’ I said, trying to cover my ignorance.
‘Yeah?’ He squinted at me suspiciously. ‘You know my last name?’
‘Seabolt.’
He gave me a considering look but seemed a little pleased too. ‘Did you read about my dad online?’
If I’d had my wings, they would have fluttered. I overheard you when I was invisible. I looked at him, unable to think of an answer. I didn’t even quite understand the question, and I was seized with fresh anger that fey children didn’t learn about modern humans. Many of our teachers hadn’t even been to Earth in fifty years!
But Sam overlooked my lack of reply. ‘My dad’s so lucky – he gets to see the comet dust up close. Did you hear about how they brought some here for his team to analyse?’
I nodded, but felt alarmed. ‘They didn’t bring all of it?’
‘Nah, they had to share it around.’ He shifted his feet but his eyes never left my face.
Would Lily Morganite know about this? ‘Where else did they take it?’
‘I think some of it’s at a lab in New York. A few other places.’
‘What other places?’ My voice was beginning to squeak.
Sam shrugged. ‘Have you Googled it?’ Another human word I didn’t know. ‘I could help you with a search, but I’m starving.’ I was sorry to hear he was so hungry. He looked a little thin, but nothing unhealthy. ‘My house is right there.’ He pointed, and seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
I spoke softly. ‘Are you asking me to visit?’
Sam tilted his head. ‘Are you from a foreign country?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m from a different land.’
‘Which one?’
I was feeling so confused, I told him the name of my world. ‘Tirfeyne.’
‘Hmmmm. Never heard of it.’ He didn’t wait for me to answer. ‘So d’you want to come over? We could get some food and do a search.’
Search? His house?
I nodded. Maybe once we were inside, he could tell me how to find the dust.
‘Don’t you have to call your mum?’ Sam asked.
I shook my head, hoping my face wouldn’t show my sadness.
‘Wow,’ he said, ‘she doesn’t make you check in, and lets you dye your hair that colour? Awesome!’
I picked up a lock of my hair and held it in front of my eyes. Same lavender sheen as ever, dull by fairy standards, but I suddenly remembered humans didn’t grow hair ‘that colour’. Theirs could be only four shades: black, brown, yellow, and the occasional red – unless they used dyes.
Sam watched me. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t you like your hair? My sister would kill for hair like that.’
‘She would?’ I gasped. From what I’d seen of Jenna, she was a good-tempered child. I didn’t think she’d want to kill anyone for anything, let alone hair. Was Leona right about humans? Did all of them – even the children – have a tendency to violence?
Sam chuckled. ‘Nice acting! Are you into theatre?’
‘Uh …’ I began to understand he wasn’t serious about his sister. But why would he joke about killing?
He started up the steps to his porch, moving fast. Attempting to keep up with him, I stumbled again. I recovered but felt like a fool.
‘Did you hurt yourself when you fell?’ he asked, putting his hand on my arm.
‘Nothing terrible.’ Carefully I set my foot on the steps and hoped he would keep touching me.
‘You look like you’re limping.’
‘I can’t walk very fast yet.’
His eyebrow lifted again, and he kept his hand on my arm.
Chapter Twenty-three
TEACHERS OF FEY CHILDREN ARE OFTEN IGNORANT OF CHANGES ON EARTH. REGULAR VISITS TO EARTH ARE NOT REQUIRED, AND ASIDE FROM A BASIC HUMAN CULTURE CLASS, CHILDREN ARE NOT TAUGHT ABOUT HUMANS AND THEIR CUSTOMS.
THEREFORE IT IS NOT UNCOMMON FOR ADVANCES MADE BY HUMANS TO REMAIN UNKNOWN TO LARGE PORTIONS OF THE FEY POPULATION. MANY FAIRIES AND GENIES ARE UNAWARE OF THE EXTENT TO WHICH HUMAN TECHNOLOGY HAS BEGUN TO RIVAL OR EVEN TO EXCEED FEY MAGIC. FOR INSTANCE, HUMANS CAN NOW COMMUNICATE WITH EACH OTHER INSTANTLY, REGARDLESS OF HOW FAR APART THEY MAY BE, AN ACHIEVEMENT SURPASSING FEY ABILITIES. AND THEY HAVE CREATED MANY FANCIFUL TOYS FOR THEIR CHILDREN.
Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland
SAM’S HEARTH ROOM had two beige couches and a big chair so puffy it could have been a nest. Little tables stood on the ends of the couches and on either side of the chair.
Reaching into his pocket, Sam pulled out a red object that I’d seen him use on my very first visit to Earth. He tossed it to me. As I caught it, he asked, ‘Do you want to use my phone to search while I get us food?’
I had no idea what to do. We had studied telephones in Human Culture class, but if this was a phone, my teachers had been behind the times about what they told us. As usual. And this ‘phone’ made me nervous. It had caused me no end of trouble the last time I’d seen it.
I held it out to Sam. ‘Would you search?’ I asked.
‘Sure, if you want.’ He took back the phone then touched the front, making a small screen light up. ‘Comet dust,’ he muttered, and pressed some keys under the screen, which flashed. Letters began to appear. To me, it looked like magic.
‘Got it!’ He stood next to me, holding the phone so I could see words roll up the screen as he talked. ‘Besides New York and CU, some of it went to Harvard. Stanford. Some to the University of Chicago. They loaned a little to Munich. Oh, and Oxford.’
I tried mightily to remember my Earth studies, but I didn’t know those places. ‘Do you have something I can write on?’
‘I could just send you the links. What’s your number?’
Links? ‘I’d rather write it down.’ I hoped I didn’t
sound as bewildered as I felt.
‘OK.’ He handed me his phone and walked into the next room. Returning with a pad of paper, he gave it to me along with a pen. At least these things were familiar to me. My mother’s writing desk held a small stash of paper. And as for human-made pens, although they were banned in Feyland, everyone knew they were much easier to use than quills.
‘I’m gonna get a snack,’ Sam said. ‘Want anything?’
‘No, thank you.’
When he left the room I studied the little screen. It was like looking at a page in a small book, except the letters were lit up. The words ‘comet dust NASA Exlander’ repeated several times. I didn’t know how to make the words move as Sam had done. When I tried pressing buttons, all the letters vanished.
I could hear Sam opening cupboards and handling dishes. It wouldn’t take him long to come back. Drawing my wand, I pointed it at the phone. ‘Show me the locations of the comet dust.’
The screen flashed, and the list of names and locations came back. Stowing my wand, I began writing. I enjoyed the steady, even flow of ink from the pen.
I was taking down the address of the last place on the list when Sam came in carrying a plate piled with food. ‘You sure you don’t want anything?’ he asked.
I shook my head, and Sam dropped onto the couch beside the table. He patted the seat next to him. ‘Sit.’
Clumsily, I did. It felt good to be with him in his human home, behaving like a human girl. I offered him his phone. Setting it on the table, he smiled then took a big bite of food.
I ripped the piece of paper from the pad. ‘Thank you.’ I folded it, wishing I could stay all afternoon.
‘Anytime.’
‘It didn’t say how much total dust there is.’ I tried to watch him without staring.
‘I don’t know the exact number of grams or anything,’ he said, ‘but it’s, y’know, about as much as the tip of your thumb. That’s what my dad said, anyway.’
That’s all? ‘Do they keep it guarded?’
‘Oh yeah, tons of security. The scientists have to sign for it and pass a clearance – all that stuff.’
Pass a clearance? I felt muddled. On Tirfeyne, valuable items would be locked in iron and watched by gnomes. Or placed with the king and queen inside the sapphire stronghold on the Island of Anshield. ‘Oh,’ I said.
Indigo Magic Page 8
