"Nae, don't ye be scaring wee Jen, ye great bogey," Skilda put in. "She need na fear us."
"Nor should she trust us," said Gugi in a voice so low I wasn't certain I'd heard her right. Surely I could trust the aunties. If they meant to harm me, they would have done so before now. Instead, they'd done then best to keep me safe.
From below, Moura cried, "Ted me you made no such promise, Ciril!"
Startled by the anger in her voice, Cadoc growled at Ashbourne. The man took a step back and bumped into Simkins, who began yammering apologies for being in the way.
Ignoring his servant's humble pleas, Ashbourne said, "I must speak to Moura in private. I have not apprised her of our agreement."
Simkins clutched the bags to his chest, causing an out burst of buzzing sounds and flashing light. "Please, sir, I've done much for you. Taken risks, endangered my pitiful mortal self. Not that I complain, sir. I live to serve—"
"Never fear," Ashbourne interrupted. "Simply trust me, my good servant. Indeed, I owe much to you."
If I'd been Simkins, I wouldn't have believed a word Ashbourne said, but the man nodded and bowed and watched his master lead Moura deeper into the trees. We four flew silently after them and hid ourselves in the branches over their heads.
"You must be mad," Moura whispered. "You cannot give a mortal man fairy blood, not even a drop. Do you want that baseborn clown to become as we are?"
"Hush." Ashbourne covered her mouth with his hand. "And hear me out."
I, for one, was glad Moura wasstill wearing her glasses. I didn't want to see the look in her eyes. She said nothing, and he continued, keeping his voice so low that I was grateful for my sharp bat ears.
"I promised him the blood in order to gain his help and cooperation," Ashbourne went on. "He has done more for our cause than you will ever know. Mortals can be useful guides in this sad world."
"But—"
"I said, Hush." Ashbourne spoke with anger, and Moura drew back. Cadoc growled but stayed beside his mistress.
"What is promised is not always given," Ashbourne went on. "In this case, will not be given. When we are ready to return to our world, I shall dispose of him."
"Ah." Moura let out her breath in a satisfied sigh. "I apologize, Cull. I should have known."
Without acknowledging her apology, Ashbourne spun on his heel and strode back to Simkins. "All's well, my man. I have Moura"s approval."
Simkins shot Moura a small smile, more of a leer. "Thank you, miss. It's good of you. Very good. I won't forget your kindness, your generosity, your—"
"Enough." Moura strode off into the woods ahead of the others, and we followed, invisible in the treetops.
"Where are we taking them, sir?" Simkins asked, still struggling with the twitching bags.
"Not to my house," Ashbourne said. "That hateful child may find her way back there."
"I think not," Moura muttered. "I've convinced her father to place her under my supervision. I've planned a shopping trip tomorrow." She paused and smiled. "I have a strange presentiment the child may come to harm somehow. An accident perhaps. Maybe a kidnapping. A disappearance.... All quite mysterious."
The sound of then laughter both angered and scared me. Chilled, I moved closer to Binna, eager to feel her warmth. A shopping trip, a disappearance—we'd see about that. If I'd had the courage, I would have swooped into Moura's hair and bitten her neck.
"But, sir," Simkins whined, "you haven't told me where we're taking the fairy spawn."
"It's not necessary for you to know everything," Moura snapped.
By this time, the three had reached the road where the car waited, silvery and sleek in the moonlight. Unlocking the doors, Ashbourne ushered Moura into the front seat and Simkins into the back, along with his bags. As silently as a cat, Cadoc leapt in beside Moura. Ashbourne slid behind the wheel and closed the door. The engine started quickly, almost silently, and the car raced away toward town.
Unknown to the driver or his passengers, four bats flew after it, barely stirring the air with our wings. I hoped Kieryn knew we were near.
18
JUST AS I'D EXPECTED, Ashbourne stopped outside the antique store. All the houses and shops were dark, their doors shut and locked against the night. Even the streetlights were out. Silently we watched Moura lead the others inside, Cadoc first and Simkins last, as usual. With a muffled thump, the door closed behind them. Nothing stirred but the leaves.
"Now what?" I asked the aunties.
Binna, Skilda, and Gugi looked at one another. After a brief pause, Binna said, "First we rescues the wee ones. Then, then—wed, I reckon we'll think of something."
"Kieryn had an idea," I said softly, unsure whether I should suggest anything to the aunties. They obviously knew far more than I did about this sort of thing.
Binna turned to me hopefully. "And what were Kieryn's idea?"
"Well, she thought we should trap them the way they trapped all of you."
Gugi clapped her hands. "Yes, yes!" she cried. "In they go, and we hides 'em away, away, away."
"Long, long away," Skilda added. "Never to be seen anywhere, anytime, any when. Poof!"
"Hush now," Binna said. "First the rescue, then the punishment."
The aunties drew me into their circle and began their odd chitter-chatter. Another dash of pain, and my wings were gone, and so were theirs. On little pink mouse feet we crept up the sidewalk and squirmed under the door. Inside, the shop was dark and silent.
"Too bad mousies canna hear as wed as bats," Skilda complained.
"But they sees better," Gugi said.
We scampered through the shop and headed for the rooms behind it. A slit of light shone under a closed door. We forced our small bodies into what seemed to be Moura's living room, filled with moonlight and shadows and dark furniture. Voices came from a room beyond.
"Stay close to the wall," Binna told us. "Make no sound. Move slow ... oh, so slow ... slower than slow."
"And beware the hound," Skilda added.
"For a dog may be worse than a cat," Gugi agreed.
In the next room, our three enemies huddled around the kitchen table, Moura shoulder to shoulder with Ashbourne, Simkins sitting apart, Cadoc restlessly pacing, toenails clicking against the tile door. On the table were the bads, flashing with a duller light now, buzzing more quietly than the cicadas outside in the night.
Without looking at the traps, the aunties scurried under a cabinet and turned their pointed snouts to the wall.
"Watch them for us." Binna whispered to me. "We have no glasses to protect us."
Obediently. I crawled to the edge of the cabinet and peered up at Moura and her companions. Cadoc lay at his mistress's feet now. his muzzle resting on her shoes. My mouse heart beat so fast, I feared he'd hear it. Despite the hound's relaxed pose, I sensed it would take little to rouse him.
Moura tapped one of the globes with her long red nails and smiled. "First your sidy aunties tried to keep you safe. Then Mostyn did his best. Like the aunties, the blundering old man failed. And so did that foolish girl. No one can defeat me, Kieryn. While you rot in this lovely prison, Ciril and I shall rule your land and enslave your kin."
"We still need the pendant," Ciril reminded Moura. "We can't go home without it."
Moura studied the globe. "You gave it to the human brat, didn't you, Kieryn?" She dashed Ashbourne a wicked smile. "No doubt you hid it in Jen's room, using sidy childish spells. Don't worry. I'd find it after poor Jen's 'tragic accident.'"
The globe buzzed and dashed both green and purple, but Moura pushed it aside and turned to Ashbourne. "Would that we could kill them," she said. "And be rid of them once and for all."
Ashbourne sighed. "Unfortunately, their mother's spell of protection is too strong for us to break."
"But not strong enough to save them from our traps." Moura frowned at the globes. "That buzzing and flashing is very tiresome. Shall I remove them from our sight and hearing?"
"Please." Ashbourne
said wearily. "Put them where they won't be found."
Moura returned the traps to the bags. As she rose from the table, Simkins gave her a worried look. "What about my reward, miss?"
She frowned. "Don't be so impatient. You'd receive what you demand before Ciril and I leave." She glanced at Ashbourne and smiled. "You have my word, Simkins."
"The fool," Binna whispered. "Her will give him something ad right, but it won't be what the dummy dolt expects."
From my hiding place, I watched Moura stride to the cellar door and open it. Sticking close to the wall, I dashed after her and followed her down the steps. Pitty-pat, pitty-pat, pitty-pat. It was like jumping over a series of cliffs.
At the bottom, Moura went to the darkest corner and opened an ancient wooden chest. She laid the bads inside, closed the lid, and locked it with a tiny gold key. Moving her hands as if she were carving shapes in the air, she hummed an eerie tune that made my whiskers quiver.
"There, my little friends," she whispered. "See how you like my magic."
Brushing a cobweb from her black velvet skirt, Moura crossed the basement to the stairs. The climb back up was far harder than the climb down. By the time I reached the top, Moura had shut the cedar door. Luckily, the gap at the bottom was just big enough for a mouse to squeeze through.
The kitchen was deserted, but I heard voices in the hall. The three aunties came out from under the cabinet, twitching their noses.
"Where be the children?" Binna asked.
"In a trunk. Moura locked it and then cast a spell. A strong one, I think."
"Ah, don't ye worry, Jen," Gugi whispered, patting me with one little paw. "We'll figure a way of busting it. Her ain't the only one who knows magic."
"Come," Binna beckoned. "They be about to leave." We stole through the shop and crouched in the shadows of a tall chest of drawers.
Our enemies stood together at the open door. "I'll take care of the girl tomorrow," Moura was saying.
"And her father?" Ciril asked softly. "What of him?"
Moura's laugh tinkled like icicles breaking. "The poor fool loves me. He'll do what I say, believe what I tell him. He's of no consequence whatsoever."
I'd known all along that Moura cared nothing for my father, but to hear her say it filled me with anger. Poor Dad—if only he'd listened to me.
"What about the aunts?" Ashbourne asked.
"What about them?"
"They escaped when the girl broke the traps. Doesn't it worry you that they're free?"
Moura laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Ciril. Those ancient fairies don't know magic from toadstools. Let them stay here in this world. They'll fade into shadows soon enough."
"I suppose you're right, my dear. Yet—" Ashbourne frowned. "I'd feel better if they were bottled up in traps, too."
Moura kissed him lightly. "Trust me. Skilda, Binna, and Gugi are not a threat."
After Ashbourne and Simians drove away, Moura lifted her arms as if to embrace the moon. Turning slowly in circles, she swayed to music only she could hear. Cadoc rose on his hind legs and joined the dance.
The night wind lifted her hair, and her skirt swirled. "Come, Cadoc!" she cried. "It's time to run."
We watched as the two of them raced down the street and vanished into the darkness, the hound several yards ahead of his mistress.
"Her be a creature of the night," Binna said, "sister of owls and wolves, daughter of the moon, as fearsome as yer worstest dream."
"Where has she gone?" I asked.
"Why, her's running back to yer house," Skilda said. "Fast as the wind her is."
"And twice times ten as cold," Gugi added.
"Be bats again," cried Binna. "And follow them!"
This time my wings sprouted at once, and I found myself in the air, flying with the aunties. "Kieryn and Brynn!" I cried. "We can't leave them in the cellar."
"For now we must," Binna told me. "Her has plans, and we must make sure her fails."
"Do na' fash yerself," Gugi told me. "We'll save the wee ones. For now they be safe."
On we flew, faster, I was sure, than any normal bat. Down below on the moonlit road, we saw Moura and Cadoc run ning, faster, I knew, than any human or dog.
When the house came into view, I saw no lights in the windows, heard no sound but the wind stirring and tapping and murmuring. Inside, Dad slept. Ignorant. Trusting.
Soundlessly, Moura and Cadoc slipped through the front door, but the aunties and I flew to my bedroom window. Once inside, the aunties shrugged out of their bat shapes as easily as if they were changing clothes, and gathered around me, three of the strangest old women I'd ever seen.
With a wave of her hand and a few muttered words, Binna changed me back to myself. It happened so fast this time. I barely felt the pain.
My arms and shoulders ached from dying, and I was ready to sleep for a hundred years, but the aunties were too excited to let me rest.
Binna seized my hands and peered into my eyes. This close, I could see the rings of color in her irises, shading from green at the outside to purple near the pupils. They had almost the same hypnotic effect as Mr. Ashbourne's glasses. "Ye must go with for tomorrow, fen," she said. "Ye must act as if ye know nothing about for plans for ye."
I cowered in her grip. "How can you say such a thing? You heard what she said. She means to get rid of me, to kill me. Don't you care—"
"Oh, quit your whinging," Binna cut in, her voice suddenly fierce. "We ain't the sort to desert a child. Her can't harm ye with us around!"
"Ye'll be safe as a tiny chick in its nest," Gugi put in, with a sweet smile. "That snarky witch ain't near as smart as her thinks heris."
"Her's not got all the biggity big power," Skilda added. "We got strong magic of our own, child."
Binna patted my hand. "We'll be near, dear Jen, just out of sight—maybe flying, maybe creeping."
"Maybe crawling, maybe hopping. Maybe wiggling through the grass like vipers," Skilda put in, her voice dreamy. "Full of poison for for that's hurt us and ours."
I looked at all three aunties. They hadn't done such a great job of protecting Kieryn and Brynn. I said, "But—"
Binna didn't let me say another word. "Here's what ye must do, Jen," she said in a firm voice. "Ye must get her glasses and give them to me." She released my hands and sat back. "That's ad we ask of ye."
Gugi smiled and stroked my hair. "Just that one small thing. Her spectacles, them with the colored lenses."
"A raindrop falling into the sea." Skilda kissed my cheek with lips as soft and dry as old rose petals. "That's how easy it be."
"And how do I get Moura's glasses?" I asked. "Just say 'Please'?"
"Ye'll think of something, for ye're a clever lass," Binna said with more confidence than I had.
"Oh, and one more thing," she added. "Bring the pendant with ye, for we can't go nowhere without it."
I stared at Binna. "But how will I stop Moura from taking it from me? With all her power, surely—"
She patted my arm and smiled. "Never fear. Jen. Our queen did her best magic on that stone. Her cannot get it unless ye give it to her. It be as simple as that."
"Well, she won't get it, then," I said. "I'd never give it to her!"
"Be wary," Binna warned. "Witches be tricksier than tricksy."
Turning to her companions, she snapped her fingers, and all three vanished. Just like that. Snap—and they were gone.
I looked under my bed, I peered into the trees outside, I studied the shadows on the lawn. I saw nothing but Tink stalking through a patch of moonlight. Whatever shape the aunties had taken was their secret. And so were their whereabouts.
Uneasily. I undressed and got into bed, far too worried to sleep. I didn't want to leave the house with Moura in the morning. Suppose what I'd heard Gugi whisper was true? Suppose I couldn't trust the aunties? Suppose they weren't strong enough to protect me?
But I had to save Kieryn and Brynn. Which meant there was nothing to do but go with Moura and hope the
aunties kept their word.
19
ALTHOUGH I WAS SURE I hadn't slept a minute, the sun woke me a little before seven. The house was silent. No sound of Dad stumping around busying himself with home-improvement projects. No bacon-and-egg fragrance to tempt me out of bed. No coffee to tickle my nose with its morning smell.
Moving quietly, I pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts with deep pockets. Then I crawled under my bed and retrieved the jewelry box. I touched it fearfully, expecting a shock, but nothing happened. Either Kieryn's spell had failed or it had been directed at Moura and nobody else. I opened the lid, pulled the pendant from its hiding place, and slipped it into a small drawstring pouch. Tying the string tightly, I stuffed it into my pocket and snapped the flap, securing the pouch and its contents.
"Please help me keep it safe," I whispered in case the aunties were hovering nearby. A fly on the wall, a beetle on the ivy, a bird on the windowsill—they could be anywhere.
At the door, I hesitated, worried I wasstill locked in. The knob turned easily While I'd slept, someone had unlocked it. Ignoring a twinge of fear, I stepped out into the empty hall. Sunlight slanted across the walls, stippling them with shadows from the leaves. Except for the silence, it seemed an ordinary morning.
Tink uncurled from his post at the top of the stairs and ran to meet me. I picked him up and cuddled him close. He purred and licked my nose as if I were a wayward kitten.
"Where's Dad?" I whispered.
If Tink knew, he wasn't telling.
"How about her? Where's the beautiful Miss Moura?"
Tink tensed and lashed his tail as if he knew exactly who I meant.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I whirled to face Moura. She'd come up behind me as silently as a cat herself. Tink squirmed and jumped out of my arms.
"I'm right here, Jen," she said softly.
"Where's Dad?"
"Still sleeping, I suppose." She smiled and took my arm as if nothing had happened between us. "How about break fast?"
Loathing her touch, I pulled my arm free and followed her downstairs. Tink waited at the bottom, his slim body tense, his ears erect.
Moura opened the refrigerator door. "What are you in the mood for?"
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