Airily

by Shay Emms

  Witter fluttered over to Airily. “What if they don’t stay?” he whispered.

  “They’ll stay. They haven’t even unpacked yet.”

  The boy kicked the withered lawn, sending up a dusty puff of dirt. His parents exchanged nervous looks.

  “Give it a chance. Things often turn out for the best.” The father put a hand on his son’s slumped shoulders.

  Josh’s face pinched into an angry pout. “Whatever,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Come on,” the mother said. “We have a lot of work to do to make this house livable. And you’re helping.”

  Both parents guided Josh over to the car, and with a beep, the trunk opened. Airily expected boxes, but the family unloaded groceries instead. As they headed for the front door, her stomach rumbled at the sight. Real food. Bags and bags of it.

  The people unlocked the House, and the movers carried in the neatly labeled boxes.

  “I don’t see a pet,” Witter said.

  “It’s possible a pet will come later,” Airily said. She was annoyed she hadn’t noticed before him. No reason for him to get a big head.

  “Maybe,” Witter agreed. “Anyway, let’s go tell Poppa.”

  She nodded. They launched into the air and flew toward the camouflaged entrance of their home within the House. Witter put on a burst of speed as the fake nest came into sight. He made a fancy mid-air roll. Airily was forced to dodge as he cut her off. He landed first and disappeared into the nest, making sure he’d be first to tell Poppa and

  Fluppence about the new people.

  Airily landed just behind him, frowning. That was fancier flying than she’d expected. She’d have to stay sharp and put in some practice hours to keep him from besting her again.

  Inside the nest was a landing platform of twigs. Their front door, when shut, blended seamlessly with the side of the house, but Witter had left it wide open. Airily closed the door behind her and hopped down the hall. Witter’s voice was raised in excitement, and it carried through the halls.

  “There’s a huge truck and two movers, and it looks like it’s just a family of three with no pets,” Witter said as Airily rushed into the kitchen behind him.

  Fluppence smiled, playing with the taps. Two days ago, the water had come on. The pipes were putting out rusty pinkish-brown sludge, but it was something.

  “They have food, too,” Airily added, not to be outdone by Witter.

  Fluppence spun around, a light in her eyes. “Food?

  Already? What kind? Did you see any labels?” She left the novelty of running water and skipped over to Airily, fluffed with excitement.

  “No, I didn’t,” Airily said. “But they had bags of groceries in their car. We can go down and look tonight.”

  “No, we can’t,” Poppa said from the bathroom doorway. Several pipes had sprung leaks, and he was racing to patch them.

  “Why not?” Airily asked. What was the point of having new people if they couldn’t go collecting from them?

  “Wait until they’ve settled into a routine. Find out their habits. When they sleep, and when they go to work. We need to be quiet during the day. No extra noise or they might send an exterminator up here.”

  His last remarks were for Fluppence and Witter. The last time there were people in the House, Witter had been five and Fluppence seven. But Poppa’s flat denial of going collecting was aimed squarely at Airily. She bristled at the thought of Poppa not trusting her to go collecting, as if she were some rank amateur like Fluppence or Witter. Airily had been picking up the slack since Momma died three years ago.

  Airily squeezed her hands closed, letting her fingernails dig into her palm. A lump rose in her throat, sudden and painful. The aching loss of Momma came back, a fresh rush of sickening hurt. Airily took in a deep breath and swallowed a few times. Even years later she could still remember Poppa coming home, grey-faced, eyes round with shock and shaking like he was caught in a blizzard.

  Momma and Poppa had been out collecting when the strap on her bag had broken, falling to the blacktop. She’d landed to retrieve it when a big speeding truck had come out of nowhere, and Momma was gone. There hadn’t even been a body. The truck had taken that away, too.

  Airily marched to the bedroom she shared with

  Fluppence. She almost forgot to turn the light switch on. The power had come back on a day after the water, but she wasn’t used to having either one yet. A sting of frustration stabbed her chest and her jaw tightened. She could do more than Poppa thought she could.

  She changed out of her pajamas, tossing them onto her messy, round bed—a nest made from a discarded, chipped bowl and a mattress stuffed with milkweed and cotton balls.

  From deep in the house below came the heavy sounds of movement: thumps, clunks, and men’s voices. There were footsteps on the stairs clomping back and forth. Scuffling from below startled her. Witter and Fluppence's chatter stopped dead.

  “I was hoping for a full attic,” said the mother. Airily

  already recognized her voice.

  “Don’t worry, honey. There’s still plenty of room. It’ll make a nice storage space,” the father said.

  A trickle of fear dripped down Airily’s back, and her feathers fluffed in alarm. Only the walls of their house separated them from the humans. She’d forgotten the flipside of having people living in the house—caution and constant

  vigilance.

  Never be seen. Never get caught.

  When the most ancient and powerful fae had left ages ago, they closed the doors of the Fair Lands behind them.

  Small fairies stayed. They lived with or depended on

  humans, like Airily’s family. Some of the Greater fae, like Black Burn and Owlby, had always lived side by side with people. They simply refused to leave, no matter how

  weakened they were.

  With the doors of the Fair Lands shut, most magic dried up. There were pools of it in the wild places, and the stronger, older fae still had some. Owlby, for one, was adept, and Black Burn could do some magic, too. But Airily and her family only had their disguise glamour left.

  If only Airily had enough magic to use a barrier spell like Burn or Owlby. That would keep the humans from ever

  getting into the sparrows’ home.

  “Wow,” said Josh. “This is cool. Can it be my room?”

  Airily’s heart beat loudly in her ears. No one lived in the attic. It was theirs.

  A throb of anger replaced the fear, and she forced herself to move. They couldn’t see her. She was in her house. She tugged on her bloomers, then put on her vest and buttoned it up.

  “No, it can’t be your room,” the mother said. “You can barely stand up in here. It’s storage for sure.”

  Airily nodded. That’s right. That’s all the attic could be used for. She stuck her tongue out in the general direction of the human’s voices.

  “Fine,” Josh groaned. “This place blows.”

  “You can take that sass and go pick out a bedroom,” his mother said.

  With a loud, exasperated sigh, Josh stomped down the narrow attic stairs.

  “We can fit a lot of junk up here,” the father said.

  His wife chuckled. “Sure can.”

  Their footsteps faded but Airily knew they’d be back with boxes and knick-knacks for storage. The fear and tension drained from her body, but she was mad at herself for being afraid. Once they stowed everything, they wouldn’t return for months, or even years at a time.

  “Airily, did you hear that?” Fluppence’s pale, round face peered around the doorframe. She clung to the wall like a vine in need of support.

  “I heard. But don’t worry. No one lives in the attic.”

  “But, the boy…” Fluppence trailed off. She put her fist up to her face and sucked her knuckle, a nervous habit left over from before she was fledged.

  Airily hopped over to Fluppence and gave her a brief, stiff hug. She hadn’t hugged
Flup in ages. They’d grown apart since Airily started spending most of her time collecting.

  “The attic is storage like always. There’ll be people in and out while they put their stuff up here. Don’t let it get to you, Flup.”

  Fluppence nodded and took her hand out of her mouth. Satisfied Flup felt better, Airily grabbed her collecting bag from the slender, bent nail on the wall.

  “You’re going out?” Fluppence asked with obvious alarm.

  Airily couldn’t stand to wait around in cold terror listening to humans bumble around beneath their feet.

  “Someone needs to get food,” Airily said.

  Fluppence’s already round eyes went wider, and then she looked at the floor.

  “Why don’t you come with me?” Airily cringed. She

  regretted the offer the instant she made it, but almost anything was better than leaving Fluppence, small and

  terrified, at home.

  Her sister looked up, a shine of hope in her eyes. “Really?”

  “Sure,” Airily forced a smile. She’d just volunteered for babysitting.

  “Let me get my bag.” She bounced past Airily and took down her collecting bag. She shook it out, coughing on a cloud of dust.

  Airily shook her head. Fluppence was such a homebody. She’d rather have her nose buried in a book than leave the yard and do anything useful. Fluppence's last collection was a magazine full of celebrity gossip from TV and movies that the fae only got to see through the neighbor’s windows. But Flup read every article twice over because it was something to read.

  “Come on.” Airily waved for her to follow.

  “Where are we going?” Fluppence asked eagerly. “Not too far, right?”

  Thinking for a second, Airily decided on the safest,

  closest place where she could get some work done. “The

  Leonetti’s.”

  “I haven’t been there in ages,” Fluppence said.

  “That’s because you never leave the House.” Airily rolled her eyes.

  “I do so,” Fluppence said.

  As they passed through the living room, Airily told Poppa where they were going.

  Poppa looked up from the sink where he stood washing supper dishes from the night before. When he saw Airily with Fluppence, his arched eyebrow rose higher.

  “Thanks,” he said, nodding at the two of them together.

  She blushed at the approval. There was a part of her that hated getting caught doing something nice for her sister, but she felt better knowing she was helping Poppa.

  The garden had been picked clean by the Leonetti family, but Fluppence didn’t seem to care. She went straight for the garbage bins, and Airily helped her open the raccoon locks. Fluppence slipped in and dug through the recycling can for reading material.

  While Fluppence dumpster dived, Airily flew low over the garden, searching for anything the Leonetti’s may have missed. As Airily wrestled with a woody, overripe green bean, a shadow in the sky caught Airily’s eye. Ever wary, Airily ducked before recognizing Black Burn’s silhouette. She whistled at her friend.

  The crow changed course. Airily flew up and landed on the top branch of a stout willow tree. Seconds later, Burn’s weight rocked the same branch.

  “Hey, Burn! The people are moving into our House

  today,” Airily said, happy to be the first with fresh gossip.

  “Oh, yeah? How do they look?” Burn grinned.

  “There seems to be only three: a mom, dad, and a boy named Josh. So far, no pets either.”

  “Good for you. I’ll tell Owlby.” Burn’s normally sly face turned serious. She leaned down to Airily’s height. “That’s where I’m headed. I found a dead bird in the woods.”

  Airily frowned. Regular birds lived short lives, unlike the fae who shared their attributes. A dead bird was sad news but nothing special. Burn wouldn’t be mentioning a dead bird unless she wanted Airily to ask about it.

  “What’s so exciting about a dead bird?”

  Burn curled her lips in a creepy smile, reminding Airily that crows were carrion birds.

  “Well,” Burn said, glee stirring her voice. “It seems there might be a predator in the woods.”

  “There are always predators in the woods, fae and beast,” Airily said. Offhand, she could think of nearly a dozen. There was an old Coyote fae and his granddaughter, a couple of

  normal foxes, three fox fae, and the usual hawks who patrolled the Road and fields.

  “This one didn’t eat its prey,” Burn said. “The bird was torn apart.”

  Instinctively, Airily looked for Fluppence but didn’t see her. She whistled the ‘show me’ code—three short trills, a pause, then three more.

  The lid of the recycling bin shifted, and Fluppence poked her head out. She looked around as she gave the answering call—a short burst that climbed the musical scale and ended with two high-pitched chirps.

  Airily whistled again and waved from the top of the

  willow so Fluppence would spot her.

  “Let me know what you guys figure out,” Airily said. Cat or rabies, it didn’t matter—both were bad news for fae and beast alike.

  Before Burn could say anything, Fluppence winged over. Her cheeks were bright red, beaming with excitement.

  “Hey, Burn! Airily! You’ll never guess what I found!” She flew in a tight circle, unwilling to settle on the branch. “A whole book! In the garbage! Help me get it home? Please, Burn. You’re big.”

  “Fluppence, where are we going to put it? How big is it?” Airily asked. She doubted they could haul home a hardcover, even with three sets of wings to carry it.

  Black Burn just laughed. “Sure, I’ll help.”

  Airily let out a disgusted grunt. “You just want to see what Poppa does when we come home with it.”

  Burn giggled harder.

  “Show me the book.” Airily relented.

  Fluppence led them back to the trash can. She’d already dragged the bloated, water-damaged paperback to the

  surface.

  “We’re not taking that home.” Airily put her scaly foot down. “It’ll never fit through the door.”

  “But it’s a whole book,” Fluppence protested. “Do you know how often people throw those out? Not a lot.”

  “Tell you what, hatchling,” Burn said. She winked as

  Fluppence pouted at the insult. “I’ll take your precious

  rubbish to Owlby for safekeeping. I’m headed there anyway.”

  Fluppence’s dark brown eyes narrowed. “In exchange for what?”

  “A favor to be named later.”

  Fluppence should refuse. The standard fairy currency, at least in the woods, was favors and promises. They were

  binding. Dreadful curses were rumored to be inflicted upon any fae who broke their word, and Poppa said that’s what had ended Great-Grandpa.

  “Okay,” Fluppence said. She thrust out her hand.

  “What?” Airily couldn’t believe Fluppence would agree to something as dubious as owing Burn a favor.

  The crow’s laughter cackled loudly around them. She quickly shook Fluppence’s hand.

  “Done,” Burn declared. She picked up the soggy book and hugged it to her chest.

  “Burn, you can’t ask her to do anything dangerous,” Airily warned.

  Black Burn spread her glossy black wings and winked at Airily before flying off. A wink from Black Burn wasn’t

  reassuring.

  “I can handle myself,” Fluppence said. She patted down her wind-mussed hair. “Burn’s not as bad as you make out. You just get in trouble because you listen to her.”

  The biting observation landed and Airily winced.

  “Come on. Let’s go to the Anderson’s,” Airily said,

  catching the sulky note in her own voice.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A

  irily lay in her nest-shaped bed staring at the ceiling’s gouged wood grain. T
he events of the day tumbled through her mind like leaves caught in an autumn wind. Burn’s gleeful bad news of the dead bird—Poppa’s

  orders not to go downstairs. And the nerve of that boy,

  asking if it could be his room. They were only temporary

  tenants. Her family was the true owner, having lived there for four generations. The more Airily thought, the angrier she got. This wasn’t the human’s House.

  A ton of groceries waited downstairs. Bags of fresh food—not stale seed from a bird feeder or leftovers pulled from a trash can. She was mad at Poppa for not trusting her to go collecting it.

  All night she listened to the new sounds of occupancy: heavy footfalls, lots of shuffling, and voices raised as the

  people called to each other from room to room in the hollow, echoing spaces of the House.

  The sounds drifting from downstairs faded away as night took hold. The family fell silent while Airily lay in bed,

  unable to sleep. Sometimes she thought she heard

  movement, but it was only the groans and creaks from the House, its floorboards accommodating the unfamiliar weight of furniture and boxes.

  Poppa, Fluppence, and Witter were all asleep. She couldn’t stand it anymore and jumped out of bed. Airily quickly changed from her pajamas to the dull brown vest and bloomers she wore every day. She left her collecting sack

  behind and crept out of the room.

  Airily went straight for one of the secret entrances to the House. The passage led to the empty space between the House’s inner and outer walls. A ladder of bent nails

  descended to the first floor and Airily headed straight down.

  The space between the walls was cramped, too tight to fly in. Sometimes, she fluttered down several rungs at a time for speed but had to be careful not to bruise her wings.

  At the bottom, Airily stepped onto the landing built inside the gap. There were secret entrances built into almost every room in the House. The House’s kitchen entrance should be to her right, toward the chimney. She wiped sweat and dust off her face.

  Long before Airily was born, the old brick oven in the human's kitchen had been replaced by cast iron, then by a gas range, and finally, an electric stove. Once, wood and coal smoke drifted up the chimney, but now there was an exhaust fan that sucked cooking fumes up and out of the kitchen. Where brick met wall, a little round hatch opened underneath a cabinet next to the stove.