by Shay Emms
“It’s okay, Airily,” Josh said. He reached for her shoulder but then pulled his hand back. “We'll find your dad.”
“Yes,” Owlby said softly. “You should get going too. You need to talk to Burn and convince her to give you the silver treasure.”
“Fine,” Airily said, hearing the bitterness in her voice. She should be grateful for the potions and information on the Crow's silver treasure, but none of it mattered without knowing Poppa’s fate. And now they had to face the cat fae all on their own, with no help from Owlby.
“Come on, Josh.” She took off and hovered by the study door.
“Yeah, alright,” Josh said. He carefully packed Owlby’s potions into his backpack. “Thanks for everything.”
“Nonsense.” Owlby waved away his thanks. “The Old World fae threatens us all.”
He showed them to the door, all the way assuring Josh his clinking backpack was nothing to worry about. The bottles of potions were spelled not to break or open until needed. Josh looked unconvinced and walked with care.
“If you need any more help, please come back,” Owlby said. As he opened the front door for them, regret shown in his eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
Anger burned in Airily’s heart, and she didn’t trust
herself to speak.
“This’ll help.” Josh stuck his hand out to shake Owlby’s. “I have a few ideas of my own too.”
Instead of shaking Josh’s hand, Owlby put a glass vial in his palm. “Drink this when you get outside, and you’ll be back to your regular size in a few seconds.”
“I almost forgot.” Josh shook the vial and peered at the contents. “I couldn’t go home only a foot tall.”
“When this is all over, you’re welcome to come back and visit. Both of you.” Owlby nodded to them.
“You mean if we survive.” Airily marched away from Owlby and out the door.
CHAPTER NINE
A
irily perched on Owlby’s branch, an itchy blanket of panic pressing down on her. She felt like mites were crawling through her feathers. An oppressive silence poured out of the woods, so thick she could almost reach out and gather a handful. The cait sidhe. It had to be.
Josh squinted at the sludgy yellow liquid in the glass vial.
“Just hurry up and drink it,” Airily said.
“What do you suppose is in it?” Josh held the bottle up to the sun.
“I don’t care. That thing is near,” she said, desperately wishing Owlby had given her a potion to make her big.
Josh pulled out the cork stopper. He pinched his nose and swallowed the entire potion in one gulp. His face scrunched as if he’d taken a big bite of lemon, then relaxed. “Huh, that tasted like… nothing I've ever had before. Not like a
vegetable, or the mouse, and kind of tingly? Can't quite put my finger on it.”
“So glad you like it,” Airily snapped.
“Just saying,” Josh said, a touch of hurt in his voice.
“We have to get home in one piece, and that means fast.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” The potion started to work. Josh sprouted up like a fast-growing tree. He wobbled and braced an arm against the oak’s trunk. Soon he towered, full size, over Airily again. He shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m in worse danger than you. You can fly away. That big cat comes for me and I have to fight while you run for it.”
“I would never!” Airily claimed. “Besides, you insisted on coming.”
Josh opened his mouth to reply, then shut it with a frown. “Alright, you got me there. But you know what your problem is? You don’t know how to accept help when it’s offered.”
He retrieved the fire pokers, holding one in each hand. “Are we going back together or not?”
She wanted to tell him no. She didn’t need him, his help, or his persistent friendship. Her feathers fluffed with
annoyance. Then the sticky threads of fear wrapped around her and her words died. There was no way Airily was heading into the woods alone. She flew to Josh’s shoulder without any extra coaxing. Pride was nothing to die for.
“Are you sure about Mr. O’s spells keeping the bottles from breaking?” Josh whispered.
“Yes,” Airily said.
“Good, ‘cause I’m going to run for it. Hang on!”
Airily grabbed his T-shirt just as Josh took off at a dead sprint.
The trees and the quiet that preceded the cait sidhe
enveloped them. Josh’s footfalls pounded through the thick underbrush. The potion bottles clinked in his backpack. His strides were long and ate the ground beneath him.
Every time Airily turned around, she expected to see a cat-shaped shadow bearing down on them. She scanned the forest. A dark flash to the left caught her eye. Airily squinted at the underbrush. Was something keeping pace with them?
“Veer left,” she told Josh.
He changed course, leaping over a sapling.
Airily saw a shapeless blur for the barest fraction of a
second.
The forest darkened around them, shadows thickening. The sunlight turned grey as if color and light bled from the world. Ugly purple mushrooms, like nothing she’d seen
before, sprouted around thick gnarled soot-black trees. Cold sweat chilled her skin.
Josh faltered, his feet tangling. He lost the rhythm of his breathing.
“Where are we? It wasn’t like this before.” He panted.
Airily let out a shaky breath that condensed into white puffs. Josh shivered and rubbed his bare arms.
“I-I don’t know.” Airily forced words through her terror.
“M-maybe the GPS can help.” Josh’s teeth chattered as he spoke. He reached, with a quaking hand, for one of his backpack pockets. His fingers fumbled with the canvas, no doubt as cold and stiff as her own until he produced a small black device.
Ice crept into her bones, and Airily shook uncontrollably. She wrapped her wings around her body, but nothing kept out the cold.
Josh’s cell phone screen lit up, bright in the gloomy
surroundings. “This isn’t right,” he muttered, voice tight enough to snap. “There’s no map, no nothing. It’s like we aren’t anywhere.”
“W-what if w-we aren’t in our world anymore?” Airily rubbed her numb hands together.
“Impossible,” Josh said. “It must be the cat fae’s tricks.”
“How right you are.” A voice slithered around the trees, coiling through the air like a snake. Liquid shadow pooled on the ground, spreading like spilled oil. Tendrils of darkness boiled up, changing and transforming.
The rotten odor of spoiled meat choked the woods. A black shape, darker than a moonless night, materialized in front of them.
Airily and Josh screamed in unison. Josh tried to run only to stumble and fall. The cell phone flew from his hands. Airily clung to Josh, wings beating to keep her balance. Josh
trembled, causing Airily’s legs to shake. Her own fear gripped her, and she pressed herself against Josh’s neck. Her white-knuckled fists locked onto handfuls of fabric.
The gloom solidified into a man-like form. His thin, sharp mouth grinned crookedly, showing off knife-sharp fangs. His gaunt face seemed to be made of dagger blades and danger.
Just as Burn had described, stuck out in ragged triangles on either side of his bald head were pierced cat ears. His eyes were cold as death. His slit pupils sliced through pale yellow irises.
Josh cried out and pedaled his legs, trying to scoot away.
The sidhe’s inky cloak of shade resolved into biker
leathers—black jacket, leather pants, and heavy boots. Poking through fingerless gloves were its slender fingers tipped with needle-sharp claws. It loomed over them, taller than the tallest human Airily had ever seen. Never had she felt both so small and so visible.
Some distant part of her brain screamed at her to flee, but her wings drooped as if they'd forgotten h
ow to fly, and her feet clutched harder to Josh's T-shirt.
“Little fae and little man.” The sidhe purred, his pink tongue rasping over his lips.
Airily’s legs gave out, and only her grip on Josh’s shirt kept her from sliding to the forest floor.
“Nice trick with the clothes. Made you hard to pin down.” The sidhe’s icy velvet tone made its words more of a threat than compliment. “You’re very lucky I’m persistent. Very lucky.”
Josh leaped to his feet, the sudden movement shaking
Airily. She clung to him as he took a few clumsy swings with the fire poker. It seemed absurd that they thought a tiny bit of iron would keep them safe.
“Now, now,” the sidhe said. “Scare me off and you’ll never find dear, old Dad.” Its mouth wrinkled into a mocking pout, sunken cheeks turning into hollowed pits.
“Poppa?” Airily whispered.
“You have her dad?” Josh stopped swinging but didn’t lower the iron.
“That’s right.” The cat smiled, eyes narrowing. He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a brown feather. The cait sidhe let go and gently blew on it. The feather floated straight for Airily.
She let go of Josh’s shirt to catch it. One of Poppa’s chestnut brown tail feathers. It was soft and smooth in her hand, but somehow cold as well. As if it were some dead thing.
“Is it his?” Josh whispered. He kept the poker aimed at the cait sidhe, but it quivered like a thin branch in a strong wind.
Airily gulped and nodded. “I-I think so.”
“What do you want?” Josh’s voice cracked, catching with fear.
The sidhe’s mouth stretched wide, showing rows of razor teeth. “Only a small thing, little man.” He motioned with his clawed-thumb and forefinger—the digits spaced a hair’s breadth apart. “I desire a certain silver torc from a certain crow holed up in your house.”
The silver treasure Owlby mentioned. She wasn't sure what a torc was, but the sidhe had come to claim it. Airily swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or throw up.
“In exchange for the torc, you’ll receive dear old Dad.”
“How can we trust you?” Josh asked.
“He could already be dead,” Airily hugged the tail feather. Tears stung her eyes and thorny sobs caught in her throat.
“I promise you both he is alive, for now,” the sidhe said.
Alive? Airily didn’t dare hope. Her heart betrayed her though. It leaped at the very thought of a living, breathing Poppa.
“You could be lying,” Josh said, his voice firmer.
Airily was grateful for him. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t speak.
The veneer of civility fell away from the sidhe as he hissed, eyes narrowed, ready to pounce and shred them.
“You doubt my word?” he snarled.
“Got no reason to believe you,” Josh said, raising the poker. It no longer shook as he drew it back like a baseball bat, ready to swing and hit.
“You want a real promise, boy?” The sidhe spat the last word as if it were a foul-tasting morsel.
Airily felt Josh stiffen; his chin lifted defiantly.
“I promise to deliver the torc and you promise to return her Poppa alive and whole.”
“Bring me the torc by noon tomorrow at the clearing of oak and maples, or that pathetic excuse for a fairy dies.” The cait sidhe moved so fast all Airily saw was a blur. Before Josh could swing the poker, the sidhe slashed at him.
Josh reeled from the force of the blow; his glasses flew off into the leaf litter. Airily was knocked off his shoulder. She tumbled, free falling before instinct kicked in and her wings flapped of their own accord. She swooped up, inches from hitting the ground.
The cait sidhe stood where he’d been less than a second ago as if he’d never moved. He held up his hand, curved claws tipped with scarlet.
“You have your promise now, boy. Sealed with blood.”
The sidhe’s form dissolved into an oily liquid shadow. The last thing Airily saw were its hungry pale-yellow eyes before they, too, disappeared.
The shadows melted away, along with the strange dark trees and poisonous-looking mushrooms. Sunlight returned, weak at first, brightening and bringing heat with it. No sounds came from the surrounding woods, but the fear eased enough that Airily managed to break free of her frozen
terror.
She hovered in front of Josh’s face and gasped at the sight. Four razor-thin lines slashed his cheek. Blood welled from between the violently-parted flesh.
“What?” Josh reached up and touched his cheek. He hissed with pain, and his fingertips came away smeared with red.
“Are you alright?” Airily asked.
Josh’s lips pursed. “I’m fine.”
Airily’s vision blurred, and she let out a harsh sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wish none of this had happened.”
She plopped onto Josh’s shoulder. Her wings curved around her shoulders as she cried into her hands. Everything had gone wrong! Her emotions transformed into big coughing sobs. With her father missing, her family threatened, and her friend making promises with the Unseelie—it was too much. The cait sidhe was more powerful than she imagined. The kind of magic it commanded was so strong.
Any hope of Josh’s promise being honored seemed
thinner than a weakened thread. In her fairy bones, Airily knew the cait sidhe had no need to honor anything. He could take the torc and kill them all. He was a cat after all—the last thing in the world any bird could trust.
“How could you promise him anything?” Airily peeked out from under her wing.
Josh stared angrily at the spot where the sidhe had stood. “I wanted to find out if your dad was alive. And I didn’t like the way he said boy.”
“Are you insane? It’s a binding promise! What if Burn won’t give us the torc? He’ll kill Poppa and you’ll die too!”
“Come on. It won’t turn out like that,” Josh said. “We have a whole team behind us. We might not have much magic, but we have smarts and time to prepare.”
Airily lurched as Josh leaned forward and picked his glasses out of the grass.
“At least now we know your dad is alive. We can get him back.”
Airily scrubbed the tears off her face and folded her wings back. She wasn’t sure she felt better after breaking down, but Josh was right. She had to save Poppa, and she wasn’t alone.
“Back at Mr. O’s you said you had a few ideas,” Airily said.
“I do.” Josh glanced around. “Just wait 'til we get home.”
Even though Josh jogged through the woods, the minutes felt like hours. Tense and silent, they both kept vigilant. Afraid the sidhe would come back, birdsong and sunshine didn’t reassure Airily.
At last, Josh broke through the tree line. Across the meadow was the House, like a rock sticking out of a murky pond. “Meet me in the attic,” he said as they passed under the leafy branches of the cherry tree. “And bring everyone.”
“Alright.” Airily flew up to the eaves.
She opened the door and crept inside. Witter and
Fluppence waited for her at the kitchen table. Airily watched them from the hall, finding herself unable to go in yet. She’d hoped Witter would be in his room so she wouldn’t have to see him. But there he was, sitting across from Flup. His face was grey, and his eyes were red. At least she’d missed the waterworks.
Her hands tightened on Poppa’s tail feather, crushing it. Having just faced the cait sidhe, Airily knew, all too painfully, how frightening the world could be.
All Witter’s pleas to keep the world safe had come to this. First Momma, now Poppa. Life changed all the time. He looked so small and worried. A rush of sympathy for her baby brother swelled in her chest.
Airily had to convince him to have faith. Poppa was alive. Josh had a plan. Owlby had helped them. They could win.
Airily stepped into the living room. Fluppence lo
oked up, teary-eyed. Slowly, Witter turned to her; his lips pressed tight.
Fluppence jumped off her perch. “Did you find Poppa?”
Witter asked nothing. Airily held out Poppa’s tail feather to him.
“Poppa’s alive,” she said. “We can get him back. The cait sidhe has him.”
“Alive!” Fluppence rushed to Airily and hugged her hard. Airily patted her sister’s head, but her eyes never left Witter.
He took the feather from Airily’s hand and smoothed it back into shape. “How are we supposed to get him back?”
“Tomorrow at noon, we exchange Poppa for a silver torc. Black Burn has it hidden away.”
“What's a torc?” Witter asked.
Before Airily could admit she didn't know Flup spoke up. “It's a necklace.”
Airily nodded. “Yeah, it's a necklace.”
Then she hurried through the details of her and Josh’s trip through the woods, their stop at Owlby’s, and the encounter with the cait sidhe on the way home.
“Josh bargained with him. Poppa will be safe until then,” Airily said.
“And then what?” Witter demanded. “We trust a cat, with more magic than all of us, to just hand him back?”
“No,” Airily said. “We make plans in case the sidhe turns on us. Josh wants all of us to meet him in the attic.”
“I’m in,” Fluppence said.
“Good.” Airily searched Witter’s face. “I know it’s scary; I’m scared too. But I need you, Witter. And so does Poppa.”
Determination emerged in Witter’s eyes— a stubborn glint Airily hadn’t seen since the last time he’d threatened to tattle on her. She’d never been so relieved to see that look.
“We’ll get Poppa back, right?” Witter asked.
“We’re going to fight like that cat has never seen if he doesn’t hand Poppa over. I promise.”
“Then, I’m in,” he said. Even though his voice quivered, he straightened his small shoulders and thrust out his chest.
Airily grabbed Witter and hugged him. She wasn’t sure why, except that maybe it was her last chance. “Now, come on,” Airily said, and she let Witter go. “We have plans to make.”