Fairy Metal Thunder (Songs of Magic, Book 1)

by JL Bryan

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  On Saturday, Jason dressed in a black t-shirt and his most comfortable jeans and shoes. He spent an unusually long time checking his hair in the mirror. The largest crowd for which he'd ever performed was a crowd of one hundred, and that had been as an extra in the high school production of The Crucible. He couldn't imagine facing ten thousand people. It made him almost as nervous as the thought of seeing Erin again.

  Grizlemor appeared next to him. The goblin removed his hat and smoothed his knotty, stringy hair, then spread his mouth open and inspected his dark yellow teeth and lumpy green gums in the mirror.

  “What are you doing?” Jason asked.

  “Getting ready for the show.”

  “What show?”

  “Do you really think I'm going to let the four of you run off with those instruments unsupervised?” Grizlemor asked. “Somebody has to watch out for wicked fairies.”

  “I'm sure we'll be fine,” Jason said.

  “I'm sure you won't. If the fairies figure out what happened, they'll kill me. Then I'll haunt you.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It's not funny.” Grizlemor sniffed his own armpit. “Clearly, you've never faced a goblin ghost. We can get pretty ugly after we die. Go grab me a snack, would you? Whipped pickle juice and Spam on rye, please.”

  Jason looked the goblin over. His clothes and hat were filthy, and he gave off a smell like rotten sausages.

  “Are you sure you don't want to bathe before you go?” Jason asked. “Or wash your clothes?” He couldn't recall the goblin doing either thing in the week he'd been living under Jason's bed.

  “Nope. I'm ready.” The goblin disappeared in a green puff. A row of green puffs appeared, leading away to Jason's bed. Grizlemor reappeared on the edge of the bed, next to Jason's guitar case. “I don't see any snacks yet.” He held out an empty hand.

  “Do you really have to come? How will I explain you to everyone else?”

  “Same way you explained the magic instruments,” Grizlemor said. “They seem happy with those, don't they? Tell them I come with the instruments.”

  “Like a roadie?”

  “What's that?”

  “Someone who helps load and unload the gear.”

  “Whatever you want to tell them.” Grizlemor took off his shoes and sniffed between his green toes.

  “Change your mind about the bath?”

  “I think I'm good for another five or ten years,” the goblin said. “Food, please.”

  Jason shook his head and went downstairs. He walked into the kitchen, feeling annoyed, but then he froze when he saw who was at the kitchen table.

  Both his parents were there, having mugs of coffee. A third mug cooled on the table, untouched. Behind it sat a withered old woman with hair like a mat of gray cobwebs. Her eyes were very dark, her mouth a narrow gash. She wore a black silk scarf around her neck, and where it drooped, Jason could see that her neck was swaddled in discolored bandages under the scarf. She sat in a wheelchair that looked antique, made of dark, polished wood and brass wheels.

  Jason gaped. He could guess who she was.

  “Jason,” his mother said. “This is Mrs. Dullahan.”

  Jason gaped a little more.

  “Where are your manners?” Jason's mom asked.

  “Oh! Uh, hi, Mrs. Dullahan.” Jason's heart sank like a stone in a cold pond. She'd figured it out, he thought, and she was going to take back their instruments before they ever got to play a show.

  “She has a few things to ask you,” his dad said.

  “Okay.” Jason's throat knotted up. The lady was scary. The air felt unnaturally cold around her.

  “You are the young man who came to my house,” she said, and he recognized the harsh, scraping voice from the intercom.

  “Yeah. I mean, yes. My mom told me I should help you with yard work. But you said you didn't want me to.”

  “It was unnecessary. Mortimer handles all my gardening and caretaking needs.” Mrs. Dullahan pointed to the corner of the kitchen.

  Jason jumped when he saw the tall, wraithlike man in the corner, dressed in a black suit. A black chauffeur’s cap was pulled low, shading his eyes so they couldn't be seen. His face was gaunt, almost skeletal. Mortimer didn't move at all, just stood with his arms folded in front of him. Jason had no idea how he'd missed the man standing there. It was almost like Mortimer had been concealed by shadows, except it was a bright Saturday afternoon and the kitchen was flooded with sunlight, so there weren't any shadows.

  “But he gave you the muffin basket, at least,” Jason's mom said to Mrs. Dullahan.

  “What muffin basket?” Mrs. Dullahan asked.

  “Jason! You didn't give her the muffin basket?”

  “She told me to go away!” Jason said.

  “Nothing was said about a muffin basket,” Mrs. Dullahan hissed. “I would have liked a muffin basket.”

  “What did you do with the muffin basket?” Jason's mom snapped.

  “Uh...my friends and I ate it,” Jason said.

  “Jason!” His dad shook his head.

  “We'll get you another muffin basket, Mrs. Dullahan,” Jason's mom said.

  “Thank you. Though I would prefer an assortment of cured meats and cheeses,” Mrs. Dullahan replied. “And crackers.”

  “All right...I'm sure we can do something,” Jason's mom said.

  “The day of your uninvited visit to my home,” Mrs. Dullahan said to Jason, “Did you depart when instructed to do so? Or did you linger and snoop?”

  “I didn't snoop,” Jason said. “I left. I went to band practice with my friends.”

  “Taking the muffin basket with you,” Jason's mom added.

  “Yes! Sorry! I didn't know the muffin basket was going to be such a huge deal.”

  “It's not the muffin basket itself, it's the principle of the muffin basket,” Jason's mom said.

  “Someone has been snooping around my house,” Mrs. Dullahan said. “I returned from my trip to find some of my lawn decorations vandalized.”

  Jason thought of the little wooden squirrel he'd broken when he landed in her back yard. He kept quiet.

  “Did you have a nice trip?” Jason's mom asked. “Where did you go?”

  “It was a hunting trip.” Mrs. Dullahan's dark eyes hadn't moved from Jason.

  “Ooh, yah? What were you hunting?” Jason's dad asked her.

  “Prey.” Mrs. Dullahan's eyes continued boring into Jason, and he felt like squirming. “Did you, or did you not, enter my yard at any time?”

  “No,” Jason said, after a brief hesitation. Could she tell he was lying?

  “Are you certain?” Her mouth pulled down at the corners as she stared unblinking at Jason.

  “Yes...Yes, ma'am.”

  “You did not enter my property? Did not climb my wall?”

  “No.” Jason's voice came out quiet and squeaky.

  “Do you know of anyone who has?” Mrs. Dullahan asked. “Have other juveniles discussed such a thing? Perhaps bragging, as juveniles do?”

  Jason shook his head. “I guess I can...listen and see if I hear anything.” His gaze shifted from Mrs. Dullahan to Mortimer. The tall, gaunt man hadn't moved a bit. He was like a mannequin, or a Halloween decoration.

  “I hope that you will.” Mrs. Dullahan's voice was icy now. She seemed to be angry at him. Maybe she really did know he was lying. He felt transparent, exposed, and vulnerable.

  “The crime went beyond vandalism,” she said. “Four musical instruments were stolen. A lute. A harp. Pan pipes. A drum.”

  Jason felt very cold inside. His guts were knotting up.

  “Have you heard of anyone with such instruments?” Mrs. Dullahan asked.

  “No...”

  “I understand you are a music-maker,” she said.

  “A little bit.”

  “Jason plays the guitar,” his mom said. “We're very proud.”

  That was
a little weird, too, but his parents' attitude about the band had changed drastically since the music cast its spell on them.

  “I don't really play it that much,” Jason said.

  “May I see this guitar?” Mrs. Dullahan asked.

  “Oh, sure!” his dad said. “Jason, why don't you go grab it and play a little ditty for Mrs. Dullahan here?”

  “Um...I'm sure she doesn't want to hear me play.”

  “I would be delighted,” Mrs. Dullahan said, and her words sounded cold and frosty. She stared at Jason with her coal-black eyes. She didn't sound like someone who could ever be delighted by anything.

  “Go on, don't be shy,” Jason's mom said.

  Jason sulked as he walked upstairs. Katie's door cracked open as he passed it.

  “Is Mrs. Dullahan still here?” Katie whispered.

  “Yes.”

  Katie closed her door in a hurry.

  Jason walked into his room, to see Grizlemor standing on his bed, arms crossed, impatiently tapping one rotten leather shoe.

  “Where are my snacks?” the goblin asked.

  “Sh!” Jason closed the door. “Mrs. Dullahan is here,” he whispered.

  “A dullahan?” The goblin's mouth dropped open, his eyes bugged out, and his pointy green ears jutted out at either side of his head. He bounced on the bed, then jumped to the windowsill. “There's a dullahan in your house? I have to get out of here!”

  “Quiet! It's just Mrs. Dullahan. The old lady from across town.”

  “She's the guardian of the gate, is what she is,” Grizlemor whispered. “I'm cooked if the dullahan finds me out here, wandering man-world. She's supposed to keep Folk like me in Faerie!”

  “Why do you call her the dullahan?”

  “That's what she is!”

  “She's looking for the instruments,” Jason said.

  “Oh, no, even the dullahan is searching? You can't let her see them!”

  “I wasn't planning to.” Jason brought his old Fender guitar out of the closet. “Wish me luck.”

  “May you find luck-clovers in your garden,” Grizlemor whispered.

  “Okay,” Jason said.

  He walked downstairs to the kitchen, where everyone watched him expectantly.

  “Is this your only guitar?” Mrs. Dullahan asked, scrutinizing it with narrow eyes.

  “Yep,” Jason said.

  “Go ahead, play us something,” his dad said.

  “He's very good,” his mom said. “We're so proud of how hard he's worked.”

  Jason sat on a stool at the breakfast counter. He plucked out “Learning to Fly,” but it was slow and hesitant. He'd grown accustomed to letting the magic guitar do all the work for him, and he'd never really been that great of a guitarist in the first place.

  His parents frowned, looking confused.

  “That will be enough,” Mrs. Dullahan said before he was halfway through the song.

  “He's much better than that,” Jason's dad said. “Play a different song. Why don't you play one of the songs from that video—”

  “I don't think she wants to hear anymore, Dad,” Jason said.

  “I've clearly heard everything you're going to tell me,” Mrs. Dullahan said. “Mortimer.”

  The tall, gaunt man finally moved, though he didn't say a word, and he barely made a sound. He grasped the handles of Mrs. Dullahan's wheelchair.

  “Good afternoon to you, Mr. and Mrs. Becker,” she said, and Jason's parents stood up.

  “It was so nice having you stop by, Mrs. Dullahan,” his mother said. “Feel free to join us ladies at the Lutheran Church anytime.”

  “I'm not Lutheran,” she growled. Mortimer turned her around and wheeled her to the front door. Jason's dad held the door while he pushed her out.

  “That's okay!” Jason's mom called after her.

  Jason noticed the time on the microwave. “The show! I have to get going.”

  “I hope you play better than you just did for Mrs. Dullahan,” his dad said.

  “Are you sure you don't want us to come, Jason?” his mom asked.

  “Oh, no, I've got enough to stress about. Thanks, though.” Jason hurried upstairs. He slid his guitar case out from under his bed. It held the fairy guitar.

  “What happened with the dullahan?” Grizlemor asked.

  “She's leaving.”

  A horn honked, and Jason looked out his window. Dred's rusty van was in his driveway, waiting for him. Mortimer had just wheeled Mrs. Dullahan past it, towards a windowless black van parked on the street.

  “Wow, that's bad timing,” Jason said. He opened the window. “Just wait!”

  Mortimer stopped, and Mrs. Dullahan turned back to look. Dred laid on the horn again.

  “We're running late for the show!” Mitch yelled out the passenger window.

  Jason grunted in frustration. He closed the window as Dred blew the horn a third time. Why couldn't they just wait until Mrs. Dullahan left?

  “We can't let the dullahan see me!” Grizlemor said.

  “I know, I know.” Jason found his school backpack in his closet and dumped out the notebooks and pencils. He held it open toward the goblin. “Get in here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Dred's horn blew yet again.

  “Shut up!” Jason said. “Come on, we have to go.”

  Grizlemor sighed. He disappeared in a puff and reappeared inside the bag. Jason zipped it up, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up his guitar case again.

  He dashed downstairs, yelled a goodbye to his parents, and then he was out the front door.

  “Don't bang me around so much,” Grizlemor complained inside the backpack.

  “Sh!” Jason said.

  “Come on, come on!” Mitch yelled from the rusty van.

  Over at Mrs. Dullahan's van, Mortimer had opened the side door, and a wheelchair lift slowly unfolded to the ground. Mrs. Dullahan was watching Jason and his friends closely as Mortimer wheeled her onto the hydraulic platform.

  “What are you waiting for?” Mitch slapped the side of the van. “Let's go, let's go.”

  Jason didn't want to open the rear door of the van and give Mrs. Dullahan a look at all the instruments inside. He opened the side door and saw Erin sitting in one of the two back seats. She smiled at him, and for a moment, he completely forgot what he was doing.

  “Jason, did you miss the part where we're running really, really late?” Dred asked.

  Jason shook his head. He glanced at Mrs. Dullahan again, who rose up as the platform lifted. Then he climbed in and slid his guitar case between the back seats, and dropped the backpack on the floor. He finally remembered to smile back at Erin.

  “Close the door!” Dred said. She threw it in reverse and backed down his driveway while he hurried to slam the door.

  “Who's that lady?” Erin asked.

  “Mrs. Dullahan.”

  “What's she doing at your house?” Dred asked.

  “Having coffee with my mom.”

  They pulled into the street. When Dred put it in drive, the side door of the black van closed. The black van immediately started following them. Mortimer must have been in the driver's seat, though Jason couldn't tell for sure, because the windshield was tinted black. Jason was pretty sure that wasn't legal.

  “Isn't this exciting?” Erin asked him. “Our first show, Jason!”

  “Yeah, it's great,” Jason said. He couldn't stop looking out the rear window at the noiseless black van that followed them like a shadow.

  “I'm so nervous. Aren't you nervous?” Erin asked.

  “Yeah, very nervous,” Jason said. He looked at her and tried to smile through his fear. He'd expected Erin to be cold after she'd rejected him, or treat him like a freak. If anything, she was acting friendlier than usual to him. Maybe she felt sorry for him.

  “Why is Mrs. Dullahan following us?” Dred asked.

  “Is she going to the show?” Mitch asked.

  “Didn't you te
ll me you snuck into the fairy world through a door in her yard?” Erin asked.

  “Yeah, I did,” Jason said. “She's the guardian of the gate. She's kind of supernatural, or something.”

  “A monster!” Grizlemor appeared in a puff of smoke next to Erin's feet.

  “A monster!” Erin screamed, pulling away from him.

  “No, not me,” Grizlemor said. “The dullahan. I'm a goblin, not a monster.”

  “What's the difference?” Erin asked.

  “Hmph.” Grizlemor sat on the floor.

  “Uh, Dred,” Mitch said. “There's a little green man in your van.”

  “He's with me,” Jason said. “He's okay.”

  “Why do you call her 'the' dullahan?” Erin asked.

  “That's what she is. One of the most dangerous sort of darkfae,” Grizlemor said.

  “Dangerous sort of what?” Mitch asked.

  “Some fairies are drawn to evil magic,” Grizlemor said. “Fairies being power-hungry nutters. The more they use the evil magic, the more it twists them into monsters.”

  The black van stayed close behind them as they drove away from Jason's neighborhood. Now Erin was watching out the back window, too.

  “Is this something we should worry about?” Erin asked.

  “If she follows us all the way to Minneapolis, yes,” Jason said.

  “So, what's with the goblin?” Mitch asked Jason.

  “He comes with the instruments.”

  “A 'roadie,'” Grizlemor said, winking at Jason. “That's the correct term, right?”

  “Oh, cool, a built-in roadie,” Mitch said. “Man, these instruments just get better and better.”

  Grizlemor rolled his eyes.

  “So Mrs. Dullahan is an evil fairy,” Dred said. “Awesome. What does she want with us?”

  “She's trying to figure out who used the fairy doors she's supposed to guard,” Grizlemor said. “Because somebody trampled around breaking things, not being cautious like me.” He glared at Jason.

  “So she's after Jason?” Erin looked alarmed. Weirdly, that made Jason feel better. For somebody who didn't want to date him, she really seemed worried about him.

  “Mrs. Dullahan doesn't know it's me for sure,” Jason said. “She only suspected me because my mom made me offer to do yard work for her. I don't think she actually saw me when I went in and out of the door.”

  “She didn't,” Grizlemor said. “She was away on the Hunt. That's why you were able to get in and out of Faerie without her stopping you.”

  “What Hunt?” Jason asked.

  “It's a darkfae entertainment. You don't want to know more.” Grizlemor shuddered. “That's one thing about the Queen hiring these monsters. Darkfae are dangerous, but they aren't the most diligent employees.”

  “I think she's turning away,” Erin said.

  Everybody looked back. The black van glided off down a narrow wooded lane, towards Mrs. Dullahan's house.

  “She's going home,” Jason sighed.

  “So we're good?” Dred asked.

  “I think so,” Jason said.

  Dred stepped on the accelerator. As they left town, Dred played some Prince over the stereo, and their mood began to lift.