by Shay Emms
Airily hopped to the hatch in the wall. A simple latch and clasp kept the entrance shut, with a nail on a chain. She closed her eyes and pulled in a long, steadying breath that smelled of warmed wood. Even this late at night, the outer walls
radiated heat into the narrow spaces. Poppa’s warnings haunted her. Airily shook off his words and opened her eyes. She pulled the nail from the hasp and pushed open the door.
Her heartbeat quickened. She was breaking so many rules.
Beyond the door was blackness—a perfect crawl space for the bird fairies underneath the cabinets. Across that
shadowed emptiness, a second door led into the kitchen through the baseboard. She squared her shoulders, smoothed her feathers, and pushed into the darkness.
The under-cupboard was thick with grime and Airily gagged as her feet crunched over the dried exoskeletons of dead bugs. She tried not to picture what she was stepping on or scream at every cobweb that brushed her cheek. She was so intent on keeping her fear in check that she smacked into the back of the baseboard.
Airily stopped, aware humans might hear even that tiny noise. Her ears strained to listen through the wooden
skirting, every muscle tight and ready to flee. Yet, only the mechanical whir of the fridge greeted her, and a relieved
Airily rubbed her aching nose.
Feeling along the wall in front of her, Airily searched for the door. She felt for the dry wooden handle and lifted. The door sprung open soundlessly. Poppa had been through the week before, lugging a small can of machine oil. He’d treated the springs and hinges of every door in the House.
She listened again, slowly counting to one hundred just like Poppa had taught her, before emerging into the kitchen. Again, nothing but the grind of the fridge motor met her ears. Safe, Airily pushed open the door and stepped into the faint twilight of the kitchen at night.
It was a world transformed; a maze of square, squat shapes cast geometric shadows. The room, once empty enough to echo, was now piled with half-unpacked boxes—mounded wads of balled paper pushed against the cabinets like snow drifts. Open cardboard containers were stacked on the floor and the counters.
In the hall, a weak bulb burned. Airily’s night vision was sharper than any daytime dwelling bird or human, but the sudden change in the terrain made everything unfamiliar. She was glad for the extra light.
Airily launched herself into the dark silence. She flew around the room twice, getting her bearings and looking for anything good to collect.
The doors of the upper cabinets had been removed. A stack of them leaned against the wall next to the mudroom door. If the humans got rid of the cabinet doors, collecting would be that much easier. The contents of the shelves were on display as if just for her: boxes of dry cereal, spices, pasta, crackers, cans of soup and all the dry goods she could hope for.
Giddy at the thought of a world without cabinet doors, she couldn’t wait to tell Poppa. Except, she couldn’t tell, and her excitement dimmed. Poppa would be too furious. She’d proven to herself that she wasn’t afraid of the humans and had a look around the kitchen; maybe she should just go back upstairs.
Then Airily spotted something that changed her mind. She banked sharply and hovered, wings beating hard over the kitchen island. There was an open pizza box on the counter and inside were half a dozen uneaten crusts.
With her mouth watering, Airily landed beside the box. She listened again for humans, but the garlicky, cheesy smell of pizza crust was too distracting. Never mind being careful! The House was silent, and the pizza crusts were all hers. Airily hopped over the cardboard edge of the box and ran, claws clicking, to the first greasy crust.
She bit into the salty baked bread, starting from the back to avoid the edge the person had eaten. It tasted as good as it smelled—crisp on the outside with a soft and chewy inside.
Airily dug her hand into the spongy interior of the crust and tore out a fluffy mouthful. She hadn’t had pizza crusts in years. The only ones she’d come across in the local garbage bins had been tossed in with coffee grounds and rotting fruit—never fit for consumption.
She ripped off a big, crisp chunk of the outer crust which was laden with parmesan and herbs. Just as she took a delicious, salty bite, there was a whoosh, and a narrow wedge of light fell across her.
Airily froze, a hunk of crust hanging from her mouth. Her heart felt too big and too fast for her ribs to contain.
A bright band cut through the kitchen from the refrigerator's open door.
Standing with a carton of milk halfway to his mouth was the boy, Josh. The fridge highlighted his features, especially the whites of his eyes. He looked as scared and shocked as she felt.
With a slow and painful horror, Airily realized he could see her. She was maybe five feet away, too close for her
‘camouflage’ to work.
The last remnants of the sparrows’ magic cloaked them in glamour. From far enough away, people saw only grey-brown sparrows. Birds so plain and common in cities and suburbs, humans didn’t give them a first, let alone a second, glance. But the magic was weak, and they couldn’t control when it dissolved. Which meant the boy saw her and she could do nothing to make him un-see her.
A wave of cold prickles broke over Airily’s skin, and she burst into the air, spurred on by pure terror. She flew high into the shadowed corner of the room. The boy’s head
swiveled, trying to follow her. Once out of the light, Airily darted from the kitchen.
She’d forgotten about the kitchen hatch, which was
probably for the best. She couldn’t lead Josh straight to one of their secret passages. But where could she go? She had to get back into the walls.
Airily shot through the dining room to the too-bright foyer with its lone bulb burning in a wall sconce.
The living room. On the other side of the foyer, the living room fireplace had a secret door leading to the chimney.
Airily went straight through a wide, dim archway.
The living room was as altered as the kitchen. Furniture and boxes were everywhere, but the fireplace never moved.
Airily landed behind a newly placed mantle clock and peeked out. Had Josh followed her? Poppa was right; she’d been stupid. Everything she tried to do on her own ended wrong. In her mind, Black Burn’s cackling laugh mocked her as it had so many times after getting into trouble with Poppa.
She waited and watched, trying to calm her panic. There was movement in the foyer. Airily’s fists curled. Josh stood in the pool of light, searching the ceiling. He took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his t-shirt. If he’d been groggy enough, maybe he’d think she was a figment of his imagination. Her fingernails dug into her palms.
Josh, eyes still on the ceiling, stepped into the living room. Airily shrank behind the clock.
“Joshua? You better not be drinking from the carton again,” his mother’s voice called from the second floor,
startling Airily.
Josh jumped too. Airily let a mean smile curl the corner of her lip. She was glad Josh had gotten caught at something.
“I’m not, Mom,” Josh said. He stepped back into the foyer.
“Then what are you doing out of bed?”
“Um, I was…” Josh’s excuse faltered.
“Uh-huh. Go back to bed. And for the love of God, use a glass. It’s not that hard.”
“Sorry, mom,” Josh said automatically.
His mother’s footsteps thumped back down the hall. Josh checked the darkened living room again before finally leaving.
Airily didn’t move, expecting the boy to sneak back downstairs just to see if he could catch her. He must be
wondering if what he saw was real. A tiny person made from a mishmash of human and bird parts, dressed in tiny clothes. What else could Josh think but that she must be something from a dream?
An icy chill numbed Airily as she remembered Poppa's warnings about human curiosity. What if Josh would be w
atching, waiting, searching for her, long after the shock wore off?
Airily must never go into the human parts of the House again, but she had to find the way out first.
Decorative medallions were carved into the length of the mantle’s edge. The third one from the left led into the walls.
Airily quickly hopped the length of the mantle, cringing as her toenails clicked on the polished wood. She felt around the carved edge of the medallion, searching for the paper-thin notch in the wood that would give her tiny hands just enough leverage to open the door. Airily’s fingers slid home, and she pulled on the groove. A round door slid out on its hidden hinges. Airily slipped through, finally out of sight.
Unlike the kitchen tunnel, there was no light. Her night vision couldn't penetrate this darkness. A sudden thought, that she’d be lost behind the walls forever, took hold of her. She pushed the fear aside. There was a ladder, and all she had to do was find it.
Feeling along the wall, Airily's fingers grazed rough brick, then the first metal nail of the ladder. She grinned. She was on her way up and out.
She climbed blind, relying on her hands and feet to feel the way. If she lost her grip, she’d plummet to the bottom of the shaft. She could break a wing—or worse, her neck—trying to fly in such close quarters.
Up, and up, and up, she climbed. Time felt like it was unspooling forever. With each rung, Airily repeated to herself, One step closer, and kept going. Soon, it was her only thought. The nail ladder ran all the way up the chimney, cutting through beams and floorboards, to the roof, where a loose shingle would let her out into the night.
When Airily hit her head on a solid wood surface, she yelped and climbed down a rung. Airily threw open the trap door. Her limbs ached as she lifted herself out of the shaft. She shut the door and sat down on the roof to rest.
Stars twinkled against the black velvet sky. The summer air was warm, but compared to the stifling heat between the walls, it was deliciously cool. She looked out over the backyard and the ragged silhouette of the woods beyond. Her eyes traced the outline of the trees against the sky several times more than she needed to. Something didn’t seem quite right. She cocked her head. Was she being paranoid?
Tree branches moved—first one, then another—as though something large leaped from branch to branch. She followed the movement until it disappeared a second later. Could it be a feral cat? She didn’t think it was an owl. To shake a whole tree, it had to be something much larger. Maybe it was just a deer, except the swaying branches had been far off the ground. Goosebumps broke out over her skin. She shivered as she recalled Black Burn’s news of the shredded bird in the woods.
Airily shook herself. It was nerves, that was all. She’d been seen. She’d climbed two stories in pitch darkness. She was tired, shaky, and wired all at the same time.
With a groan, she realized the night wasn’t over. She still had to close the baseboard door in the kitchen to cover her tracks, all the while clinging to hopes that her own family, especially Poppa, hadn’t noticed she’d been gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
A
irily woke in a cold sweat. The few hours of sleep she’d gotten were filled with dreams of endless climbing.
The events of last night replayed in her mind. When she’d snuck back into the house after making it to the roof, no one had been awake. She’d climbed back down the main shaft to the kitchen. For a long time, Airily had stood, staring at the open door under the cupboards. Sweat drenched her body, soaked into her clothes, and trickled down her back. She had two options—shut the doors or go upstairs and tell Poppa everything that happened.
That had decided it. Gathering her last shred of courage, Airily had run into the under-cabinet, found the door she’d left ajar, and yanked it shut. She couldn’t even remember getting back up the ladder and going to sleep.
Rolling over, Airily glanced at the wristwatch hanging on the wall. Her eyes flew open. One o’clock already! Airily jumped out of bed. She’d never slept that long. Why hadn’t someone woken her? She looked for Fluppence, who was a late riser, but even she was awake and out somewhere.
A clink of dishes came from the kitchen, but nothing else. Most likely, Witter was doing chores. Poppa was probably out collecting—the Andersons restocked their squirrel and bird feeders on Saturdays. Fluppence would be around as well, not too far from the house.
Airily had gone to bed in her clothes. They were dirty, stiff with dust and pungent with sweat. She felt gross. Airily snuck out of her bedroom and dashed for the bathroom. She needed to clean up and change clothes before anyone noticed she wasn’t in the pajamas she’d gone to bed in.
She lingered under the shower spray, grateful for hot, running water which soothed her aching arms and legs. She stretched her wings to keep them away from the water so that they’d be ready for flight. Wet wings made flying hard.
She wished she could stay in the shower forever, but she had to find out what the consequences of last night were eventually. With a gloomy sigh, Airily shut off the water.
Airily crept into the kitchen. Witter was cleaning up, sweeping the crumbs from under the table with a fluffy milkweed broom.
“Afternoon,” he said, shooting her a sharp look.
“What?” Airily glared back as she searched for food. There was a dry seedcake left over from dinner in a cast-off baby food jar.
“You slept late.”
“I know. I can read a clock,” Airily said. She took the cap off the jar and gave the seedcake a sniff. It smelled fine, so she picked it up and took a huge bite. Her stomach rumbled,
relieved to have food again.
“Poppa’s checking bird feeders and Fluppence is moping on the roof.” Witter put the last of the clean utensils away.
“Why moping?” Airily asked around a mouthful of food.
Witter shrugged. “I don’t know. Something about The Daily Whoot and that kid, Josh, being in her favorite spot. He’s up in the cherry tree with a pair of binoculars. Poppa is pretty upset too.”
Airily went cold.
“I guess the kid is a bird watcher,” Witter added. “Poppa will figure out what to do.”
Josh wasn’t watching for birds. She knew what Poppa, Flup, and Witter didn’t. He was looking for her.
With her mouth dry, Airily tried to swallow the seedcake. She forced it down and put the rest of it back in the jar.
“Hey, gross! Don’t take a bite and put it back.”
Ignoring him, Airily bolted.
“I’ll tell Poppa on you,” Witter shouted from the kitchen.
She ran down the hall to the fake nest and burst outside. Her wings caught the air, and she flapped hard, gaining
altitude quickly.
From up high, Fluppence was but a small, brown speck on the roof. Josh’s faint, broken outline was visible through the tree branches. As Airily watched, he shifted and a glint of reflected sunlight blinded her. Binoculars.
He was watching her. Airily could feel his eyes, like bugs crawling on her skin.
She darted to the other side of the roof and dropped low, circling to land.
She’d been hovering. Sparrows—real ones—didn’t hover. Had he noticed that too? Even through binoculars, the glamour worked. But he was already suspicious; otherwise, he wouldn’t be perched in a tree.
Airily tripped as she landed, her face raking against the rough shingles.
“Are you okay?” Fluppence called from beside one of the chimneys.
Airily picked herself up, too preoccupied to care. Her
elbows and chin were scraped raw.
Fluppence hopped over. “You don’t look okay.”
“I’m fine,” Airily said.
Flup frowned, obviously unconvinced.
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Airily added.
“That kid, Josh, has been in the tree all day. He was there when I got up anyway, and now I can’t read The Daily Whoot,” Fluppence said.
“You could read it inside,” Airily said absentmindedly.
“It’s not the same. I like to read in the cherry tree. When I left it out for Poppa, the headline read: Several Dead Birds Discovered!”
Several? That meant Burn wasn’t the only local fae to find a corpse. Airily shivered. Owlby must’ve worked overnight to get the news out in such a short time. He was often
scrambling for paper and supplies, so The Daily Whoot wasn’t really daily. But he always came through when something
important happened.
Fluppence rattled on, but Airily wasn’t listening. Instead, a plan was forming.
“Let’s go visit Owlby,” Airily suggested loudly, cutting off whatever Fluppence had been saying.
“What? Really?” Fluppence grinned, her round face looking hopeful.
Poppa had insisted Fluppence wasn’t to visit Owlby until the humans settled into a routine unless either Poppa or
Airily could go with her as an extra pair of eyes. Fluppence hadn’t been too happy about it, but Poppa promised it wasn’t forever.
“Sure,” Airily said.
Fluppence launched into the air and flew over the roof. Airily followed, easily catching up to her eager sister.
Airily observed Josh shift in the tree, tracking her
overhead flight before turning back to the House. She kept watch over her shoulder until Josh couldn’t be seen anymore. He hadn’t paid her, or Fluppence, any more attention than he would a passing cloud.
Airily tried to formulate her plan to get Owlby’s help as they flew. She wondered if he had enough magic to do so and hated that she had to ask in the first place. Lost in thought, Airily wove her way through the trees and branches of the wood.
“Airily, look!”
She’d lost sight of Fluppence. Airily circled a pine tree and turned back. Fluppence was perched on a moss-covered log. She pointed a shaking finger at the forest floor, her normally ruddy face, moon-pale.