by August Li
With a tip of his hat, Titus greeted the two men. “Good evening to you, Lawrence. Kenny.”
“Evening, Mr. Lambert,” the older guard, Lawrence, said. “What can we do for you, sir?”
“I’m here on an important errand for Mr. Bunge.” He showed them the key, and the two guards looked at one another.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but this is very unusual. All of the scientists and workers went home hours ago.”
“Believe me, Larry,” Titus said, “I would much rather be at home with my wife. I’m afraid Mr. Bunge insisted I look into a critical matter for him, though. I don’t have to tell you that the man won’t tolerate disobedience.”
Kenny nodded. “Aye, quite the temper.”
“Why isn’t Mr. Bunge here himself?” Larry asked a little suspiciously. “I don’t know about this. He gave us strict orders that only he gets in here. It’ll be our jobs if we let you past.”
“It’ll be your jobs if you don’t,” Titus said. “I am part owner of this facility, and I have the key as well as my instructions. You’re good men; please don’t make me go back to Mr. Bunge with accusations of insubordination. You know he won’t have it.”
Robin almost felt sorry for the guards as they looked at each other nervously. He doubted these men had any idea what went on inside the building; they were just doing their jobs. Likely they had families to support. Unfortunately, they’d be seeking other employment after Robin and Titus freed the faeries.
“Who’s this with you, then?” Kenny asked, pointing to Robin. “I ain’t seen him around here before.”
“My personal assistant,” Titus said, stiffening and looking away. Robin hoped these guards couldn’t read people as he’d learned to do. He held his breath for the long moments it took for them to consider.
Finally Larry nodded and took a step to the side. “Alright, then. Go on in.”
“Thank you,” Titus told him as he fitted the key into the lock. “We shouldn’t be long.” He opened the heavy door, and Robin followed him into the darkened entryway.
The door shut. The only light came from some tiny bulbs built into the metal walls near the ceiling. They led to another set of double doors, more imposing than the first. Titus sighed when he reached them. “I was afraid of this. We won’t be able to go any further.”
“Let me have a look.” Robin came up to the door and saw an alphabetical combination lock just like the one in Bunge’s secret room. He bent down and squinted to see the letters and turn the dial. Once he entered the name he knew was the key, he turned the lever hard to the left and the door sprung open.
“Robin, how did you know the code?”
Robin froze at the perfectly legitimate query. He thought for a second and said, “I’m a thief. I’m good at picking locks and getting into things. It’s all part of the job, you know?”
With a mirthless laugh, Titus said, “Of course. I guess I should be thankful.”
Robin swallowed the guilt he felt at lying to Titus, but he couldn’t possibly tell him the truth. His understanding and compassion would reach only so far, and not far enough to forgive voluntary interaction with a faerie, Robin knew. He walked slowly into the room. Desks and cabinets filled it, along with every other room they inspected on the first floor. They made their way to a stairwell protected by another lock. Robin opened it with the same combination, thinking what a fool Max Bunge was to repeat the phrase at every checkpoint.
The second floor held a variety of workrooms and tools: presses, lathes, saws, drills and benches. They stood still and quiet at the late hour. Everything smelled of machine oil. Robin and Titus inspected them, though to Robin they didn’t seem especially sinister. Titus confirmed, saying, “These are just metal-working machines like one might find in any factory.”
“But what are they making?” Robin whispered. “I don’t see any kind of goods.”
“That’s a point. Let’s keep looking, go up to the next floor.”
On the third floor they found a few more offices and some rooms filled with chemists’ equipment like beakers, burners, calcinators, and tubing. Robin inspected some dishes filled with a jelly-like substance, and Titus took stock of the vials on a shelf. Some squares pinned to a board bore labels like “Subject A,” “Subject B,” and so on. Stacks of reports described alchemical processes that Robin didn’t begin to understand.
“I fear we may have made a grave error,” Titus said, resting a hand on Robin’s shoulder. “None of this looks amiss. It’s just research.”
“No,” Robin breathed. What if he’d picked the wrong building? Snow had been captive five years; what if he’d remembered wrong? What if they’d moved the faeries somewhere else already? Still, his gut told him they weren’t wrong. “No, there’s still another level.”
“I suppose we might as well check while we’re here.”
When they reached the door to the steps, Titus used his key and Robin set to work on the letter wheel, fearing Bunge would have finally switched up the code word. It remained the same, telling Robin just how obsessed Bunge had been with his faerie slave. His stomach and fists clenched, and his resolve to free the others stiffened. He’d set them loose if for no other reason than to spite the wicked son of a whore who’d made his lover suffer. He wished he could exact a greater payment from the bastard. Maybe one day, he’d have his chance. Now, they had a job to do.
Titus unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, and they walked into complete darkness. From the way his breath echoed, Robin knew the room was large, open, and high-ceilinged. A hint of decay raised the hair on the back of his neck. He inched toward the wall and groped around.
“This building is powered by an underground generator,” Titus said. “There must be a lever somewhere—” He found it, and an enormous electrical bulb flickered a few times before casting bright, clinical light on the large chamber. Titus staggered over to Robin and clutched his arm, shocked by the sight that met their eyes.
Eight gurneys were arranged in a circle around the center of the room, and each held a body. Thick, leather restraints kept the naked subjects’ arms and legs immobile. A steel cart stacked with ghastly looking instruments like saws and drills sat beside each bed. In each of the corners, Robin saw a mechanized pyramid topped with a glowing blue orb, just like the one that had stolen Snowdrop’s magic. Unlike that apparatus, the generator, rather than wind-up clockwork, powered these machines. Robin scanned around for a way to demolish them, but Titus grabbed his arm, panting heavily.
“Who are these people?” he whimpered. “Dear God, what’s going on here?”
“Calm down, Titus. Whatever it is, we’re going to make it right.”
The older man nodded, looking pale beneath the glare of the huge light. Robin touched his cheek, and it fortified him. He stood up and walked slowly toward the first bed. A man with gray skin and matted, dull, black hair lay there. On the table beside him sat a pistol and a variety of bullets made from different metals: gold, steel, silver, and bronze. On his torso Robin saw several gunshot wounds that had healed to pale mounds. One, just below his left rib, gaped open, exposing petrifying flesh and bone.
“Is- is he dead?” Titus whispered. Robin nodded, and the other man stumbled a few feet away and vomited on the floor. Robin hurried over to rub his back. They moved on to the next victim: a female faerie with bright yellow hair and brown skin. She turned her head toward them, and her dry, cracked lips moved without sound. A series of deep cuts marred her smooth thigh, and Robin saw half a dozen different blades beside her. He also saw where several squares of flesh had been cut away from her chest. Not surprisingly, the chart beside her said “Subject B.”
Titus mopped his forehead with an embroidered handkerchief. “What’s going on, Robin?”
“They’re researching ways to harm faeries.”
“Faeries are our enemies, but this, this is just—” The poor man wretched again. He walked numbly toward the third bed with his hand over his mouth. A fair-skin
ned fey, looking about twelve by human standards, lay covered in blisters from armpit to hip. The stench of burned flesh assailed them. “My God, they’re trying to determine if it hurts them to be burned! They must have burned him twenty times. There are scars over scars over scars. God, why?”
“You couldn’t have known, Titus.”
“I didn’t know because I didn’t care to know! I put up the money for this! This is my fault. I… I caused this, Robin!”
“So make it right.”
Staring with horror at a faerie whose left arm and right leg had been amputated, Titus said, “I will. I’m going to report this to the other investors. The authorities. The papers. The government. My God, I’ll go to the Queen Herself!”
Robin stopped beside a faerie that resembled Snow a little: pale with light green hair. Horrible blisters stretched across her lips and past the corners of her mouth. “Are you alright?” Robin asked, petting her forehead. “What can I do?”
“You’d help us?”
“Aye.”
“They made me drink things,” she choked. “I can’t hear the song of the wind or voice of the heather—”
“I’ll fix it. I’m getting all of you out of here,” Robin said. He saw a broomstick resting against the wall and picked it up. He smashed the pulsating, cobalt orb on the nearest magic-sucking machine.
“Stop, Robin!” Titus called. “We can’t destroy this place. We have to alert the authorities.”
“Don’t be dense, Titus,” Robin said, grasping the other man’s arms. “The authorities are the ones paying for this research. They need a way to fight against the fey, and this is how they’re discovering it.”
“This, this is just unholy! It’s wrong to subject any living being to something like this.”
“I agree. We need to let them go.”
“But, let them go? They’re faeries—”
“Titus, they’re living beings. You said it yourself.”
He nodded and swooned like he might pass out. “Some of them are hurt very badly. How will they make it out?”
“We’ll figure that out. Now, start undoing the straps, while I destroy these machines.”
“Why?”
“They’re absorbing the magic, leaving them defenseless.”
“How on earth can you know that, Robin?”
“Does it matter? Please, Titus! Get them out of those restraints.” The other man did as he was told. Robin heard his muffled sobs as he witnessed the torture the faeries had endured. He hurried to destroy the remaining three machines, smashing them to bits with the broomstick and his boots until all of the orbs dispersed. The faeries sat up and looked around slowly, as if they’d just woken. Those that could got down from their beds and stood on shaky legs. Robin and Titus helped the others. All of them had patches of skin removed, and some had metal implants protruding from their flesh. Others lacked all their fingers and toes. A few had been cut in several places and sutured or stapled back together. Some of the faeries stumbled toward the exit door.
“Wait,” Robin called to them. “Just stay here. There are guards outside. We have to plan how to get all of you past them.”
“Well, we’ll kill them,” said in unison a pair of brown young women with leaves and twigs twisted among their gnarled chestnut hair.
“We can’t do that,” Titus said quickly.
“Why?” All of them blinked and looked about in confusion.
“Because those guards are decent men and none of this is their doing. They don’t deserve to be harmed.”
“So what?” said the yellow-haired woman. Butterflies circled around her, their movements making Robin dizzy and sleepy. He had to force himself to look away before they mesmerized him.
A tall, muscular fey with burgundy locks and ram-like horns said, “I shall wash my feet in the blood of these cursed mortals, and take their children as my slaves.” He moved his remaining fingers, tipped with sharp, black nails, and sparks danced in the air between them. “I’ll burn this town to ash.”
“Please stop,” Robin said, remembering Snow’s state after his ordeal. “You won’t have the strength to stand against them yet. They have weapons that can hurt you.”
Some of the faeries laughed, while the matching girls transformed into sparrows and twittered from the steel support beams.
“What do we do?” Titus asked frantically.
“I don’t know,” Robin told him. “Is there a back door we could sneak them out?”
He shook his head. “There’s just the one entrance.”
Pacing, raking his fingers through his hair, Robin sought desperately to figure something out. Ivy grew from the walls. The light-haired fey that reminded Robin of Snow went from table to table, giggling madly as she touched each one and transformed it to a pile of pebbles, a gnarled tree stump, or shard of colored crystal. Magic collided everywhere, distracting Robin, giving him visions and making his teeth wiggle.
“Enough of this nonsense,” snarled the horned fey. He stalked over to Robin and grabbed Robin’s throat with his mutilated hand. His lips drew back to reveal pointed teeth as he lifted Robin off the floor. His opposite finger pointed to Robin’s chest as he said, “The humans must be made to pay for this. I’ll enjoy slaughtering through them and taking their teeth and ears before they die. You first.”
Robin tried to choke out that he wanted to help them, but no sound escaped his constricted throat. He gasped for air as red fog clouded his vision. At the last second, the faerie lowered his hand and released Robin. “Ah, I see. You’re lucky I don’t want to make an enemy of him.”
“What?” Titus panted. “Robin?”
Robin rubbed his throat and caught his breath. “I want fresh milk and raw wool,” demanded a blue-eyed, female faerie, thrusting her open hand insistently at Robin. “I want a pair of blue dancing shoes and fresh ewe’s milk.”
Robin swore. He’d made a huge mistake thinking all faeries were as kind and rational as Snow. He’d put himself and Titus in grave danger, along with the rest of Enline. But what choice did he have? Still, he needed to get them out of here. He just didn’t know how. He’d expected the gratitude and cooperation of the faeries and realized too late that their minds didn’t work like human minds. The yellow-haired woman sang, and Robin’s feet moved to the tempo on their own. He twirled and kicked, a sudden surge of joy driving out his apprehension.
“Wait,” Robin said, willing his body still. “Can’t one of you sing the guards asleep?”
“Why don’t you do it, boy?” asked the horned faerie. “As you’ve observed, the rest of us are quite weak. You know the words, do you not?”
Titus looked dumbfounded. Robin could explain later; the important thing now was to live to get out. Could he really put the guards to sleep with Snow’s lullaby? Yes, he thought, maybe he could.
“Alright,” he told the people in the room. “Give me a few minutes to sing, and then follow Titus to the exit.” He looked at his companion, who nodded once. “Alright.”
Robin made his way down to the front entrance. He opened the door to find Lawrence and Kenny leaning against the wall and sharing a smoke. “Help you?” Kenny asked.
“Please listen to me very carefully,” Robin said, slowly and calmly.
“Alright, lad. What’s going on?”
Robin closed his eyes and imagined himself wrapped around Snowdrop, stroking his hair and breathing his scent. He imagined the soft patter of the rain and felt more confident when he heard a distant rumble of thunder. He sang the soft, other-worldly verses, feeling their serene effects move through him. He finished and opened his eyes, expecting to see the guards slumped against the building. Instead, they stared at him and continued smoking.
“You sure you’re alright, son?” Larry asked.
Before Robin could answer, a red line formed below the guard’s chin, and his blood poured out in a sheet. He held his neck and sputtered, eyes bulging and skin going gray. Soon he fell to his knees, and then forward on his fac
e in the gravel. Kenny screamed and aimed his pistols at Larry’s body, then at Robin. Robin held his hands up and spread his fingers.
“What the fuck?” the guard yelled, waving his gun in every direction. Two brown birds landed on his cheeks and pecked at his eyes. Kenny fired into the air, and Robin crouched down and covered his head to avoid being hit. The guard hollered, swore, and clawed at his face before falling permanently silent.
Cautiously Robin lifted his head, just in time to see the sparrows flutter off. The horned faerie walked through the door, crouched, and dipped his long pinky nail into the pool of blood surrounding Larry’s head. His dark purple tongue darted out and circled his gore-soaked finger. He purred with satisfaction, grinned at Robin, and said, “Silly boy.” He took a few more steps before he melded with the night and disappeared.
Soon after, Titus staggered out the door with his handkerchief over his mouth. “Dear God, Robin, what have we done? What have we done? We should have left them there! Bunge is right; we need to know how to fight against them. Look what they’ve done!” He held the door jamb and gagged. Robin rushed over to hold him up.
“Come on, let’s get to the car,” he said, urging the other man along. “We need to get away from here, and no one can know we’ve ever come.”
Titus nodded and took a deep breath, his strength and composure quite impressive under the circumstances. They made their way to the carriage, only to find the driver dead and wrapped up in morning glory vines like an old woman’s knitting bundle. Robin pushed him out. “Can you drive this thing, Titus?”
“Aye,” he said, his hands shaking on the wheel. “Where can we go? The train won’t run again until morning. I have no way to get home.”
“Go to the Blackthorn. We can put your car in the stable out back and you can stay in my room.”
