un/FAIR

by Steven Harper

  Ryan sniffed hard because his nose was running. “I hate this place. It’s all chaos and bad dreams and iron that makes you sick and mean people filled with blood.”

  “I’m not mean,” Alison said.

  “You aren’t a person,” Ryan said. “You’re a girl who’s shared fairy blood. Come on—we need to find the adults. It’s just like when Hoshi thought his dad was dead. Except then he found out his uncle was really his dad and then—”

  “Not now, Ryan!” Alison’s voice was sharp, but it also quavered. “We have to see if the adults are … we have to find the adults. But I don’t know how.”

  Ryan closed his mouth in a hard line. Talking about Hoshi and Flashcard Battle Brawl made him feel better in a bad situation because he always knew how the conversation would come out. It was a pattern of his own. But people always cut him off, told him to stop, even Alison, his best friend. They didn’t want him to feel better. They wanted him to feel bad. Anger made a red worm inside him.

  “Let’s see if they’re in the back,” he said shortly. “Maybe they’re looking for us.”

  The sun was dropping down to kiss the lake, and Nox swooped in to perch on Alison’s shoulder as they hurried around the side of the Cottage. She touched his head for reassurance. Ryan wondered what it would be like to be able to find consolation in a touch instead of discomfort, and shuddered a little at the idea. It was just impossible. Nothing good came out of touching.

  Soot had blackened the house, and shattered windows gaped like broken teeth, including at Ryan’s bedroom. He made his jaw hard, not wanting to think about the salamanders burning his carefully arranged possessions. The anger worm grew redder and hotter. Had Mom and Dad gotten out okay? Aunt Zara and Ysabeth?

  “I wonder why the fire department didn’t come,” Ryan said to distract himself.

  “The fire didn’t last long,” Alison said. “The smoke disappeared pretty quick, too. I’ll bet people saw it and thought it was no big deal.”

  “Deal,” Nox echoed. “Creel, meal, wheel, and deal.”

  They approached the corner. Ryan’s lungs burned and he realized he was holding his breath. Tension made his muscles and nerves thrum. Every step took him closer to a truth he didn’t want to see. No. The adults would be in the back yard. They had to be. He made himself turn the corner.

  A woman was standing alone in the backyard several yards away with her back to them. Her clothes were covered in soot and her hair was messy. Ryan couldn’t tell who it was. Where was everyone else? Why was there only one person? His hands were cold with fear, and the world turned black around the edges like it always did before he went into a meltdown.

  Not now, he told himself. You can’t now. You have to find out what happened.

  He sped up, almost running toward her. She must have heard him, for she turned. It was Mom, and she cried out at the sight of them both. Ryan shouted with relief, though he was also scared about the others. Where were they?

  “Ryan! Alison! You’re safe!” Mom flung her arms wide to hug him. Ryan came up short a few feet in front of her, and Mom remembered herself, to Ryan’s relief. Even now—especially now—he couldn’t imagine a constricting hug. She pulled back and wiped at her eyes instead, leaving sooty smears. “Are either of you hurt?”

  “No,” Alison said. “Nox is fine, too.”

  “Fine, line, time,” Nox chirped with a nod.

  “Where’s Dad?” Ryan demanded. “And Aunt Ysabeth and Zara?”

  “And Theresa?” Alison added.

  Mom paused. “I’m sorry, honey. The fairies took them.” She stepped aside. On a large rock behind her lay a charred stick, a clump of earth, a white feather, and a jar of water. In the center was a small sundial the size of a wristwatch. The objects cast long shadows.

  “I don’t understand,” Alison said. “What are these things for?”

  “I’m not sure.” A grimace twisted her face and she staggered. “Hm! I don’t understand this at all.”

  Unease stole over Ryan. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m fighting it,” Mom said. “I … I don’t …” She faded, and for a moment Ryan saw charred grass right through her body. He stepped back, frightened. Then Mom reappeared. “It’s Moving Day, and the fairy realm is calling me, honey. I’m fighting, but … it’s so difficult.”

  Alison grabbed both her hands and Ryan wondered how she could do that. “Where did the others go, Mrs. November? Did they die in the fire?”

  “No.” Mom’s face was pale beneath gray ash. “The fair folk took my sisters and yours, Alison. They must have mistaken her for me in the confusion. They aren’t always very smart. And they took Harrison, too.”

  Ryan hiccuped. “The salamanders said they wanted to kill me because … because I would destroy time.”

  “What?” Mom let go of Alison’s hands.

  “Ryan!” Alison gasped. “That’s what’s going on!”

  “I don’t understand,” Ryan said.

  “The fairies think you’re the bad guy.” Alison touched Nox’s head. “They think they have to kill you to save the world.”

  Ryan legs went wobbly. He sat down near the rock. Dry grass prickled against his hands. “That can’t be true, can it? I’m not going to destroy anything. Mom?”

  “Honey, I don’t know.” Mom tried to push her hair back into place, but her hand was shaking. She was fading again. Ryan wondered what would happen if he touched her. Would he go through her? The thought made him sick and scared all over again. “I don’t know anything. I’m frightened and alone and I don’t know what to do.”

  That was wrong. Adults didn’t get scared, especially not Mom. Mom always knew what to do. The dark future, the one in which everyone died and the world fell apart, hadn’t gone away. He had been dodging fairy attacks for so long he hadn’t had time to work out how to change that future. Now it turned out he was going to bring that future about. But Ryan wasn’t going to kill anyone. He wasn’t going to destroy time. He couldn’t. He didn’t have that power. Did he? Ryan ran a finger around the designs on his palm and felt like he was standing in the middle of a twelve-step staircase.

  “What do we do?” Ryan pounded the ground with both fists. Darkness invaded the edges of his world, and his breath grew short. “I don’t know what to do!”

  “Ow!” Mom gritted her teeth. She was transparent as frost now. “Honey, I want to help, but I’m losing myself. Power is winning over family. Oh!” She said a word that Ryan was never supposed to say, ever. “Ryan, remember that everything has its opposite. I love you.”

  And she was gone. Just like her own mother had gone all those years ago in Ireland.

  “Gone,” Nox muttered. “Dawn, drawn, pawn. Gone.”

  “They left us,” Alison whispered. “They left us all alone.”

  Ryan stared at the spot where she’d been standing. The smell of charred wood filled his nose.

  Next we will see how you handle tragedy.

  He looked at the stone, with its five objects. Then he looked at Alison and the bird perched on her shoulder.

  “Nox!” he said. “What do all these mean? Can you tell?”

  Nox remained silent. He didn’t answer to Ryan.

  A second later, Alison understood. “Nox, answer his question.”

  “Easy, peasy, wheezy, sneezy.” Nox dropped down to the altar with a flutter of wings and pecked at the dirt clod. “Ysabeth and Zara and Theresa and Harrison; salamander and sylph and gnome and undine! Each element took one mortal, portal. Each wants to thrill, kill, shill you personally, and so they tell you, prince of prime, rhyme, time, to choose one. And so you must do before sundial reaches noon, rune, goon. You can trade yourself for Ysabeth or Zara or Theresa or Harrison by taking earth or air or fire or water into the mortal portal.”

  “The portal?” Ryan echoed. “What’s the portal?”

  “Take the lake.” Nox popped into the form of an octopus, curled a tentacle around the sundial, and handed it up to Ryan. “Soon. B
efore noon.”

  “It’s almost sunset,” Ryan said, taking the sundial. “Noon is a long time away.”

  Alison peered over his shoulder and pointed. “Look!”

  Roman numerals I through XII ringed the outer edge of the sundial. The shadow cast by the sundial’s pointer—it was called the gnomon, Ryan remembered—fell on the number I, and it shouldn’t have, not with the sun so low in the sky. He turned the dial, but the shadow stayed on I. Even as he watched, however, the shadow moved a tiny bit toward II.

  “You have this much time to hand yourself to gnome or undine, salamander or sylph,” Nox piped. “That elemental will free one hostage and kill you instead, dread, dead. But the other three elementals will become angry. Blood will flow, grow, blow from the other three, and they will die.”

  “What?” Outrage and fear and worry all sucked Ryan down like quicksand. “They can’t do that. It’s unfair.”

  “Fair folk are always fair. Dare and beware.” Nox collapsed back into a piper and fluttered back to Alison’s shoulder, ending the conversation.

  “One?” Alison whispered. “We can only save one and the others will die?”

  Tragedy … whispered the awful voice in his head. His palm burned.

  The darkness closed in around Ryan. Panic pounded at his heart pound and squeezed the air from his lungs. The red worm burned hot. “No! No, no, no, no, no, no!”

  He was only vaguely aware of Alison speaking. “Ryan! You can’t do this now. We have to save my sister! We have to save your parents! We have to find a way!”

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” he chanted.

  “You shut up!” Alison was crying now. Nox crouched on her shoulder in a panic of his own. “Our families are in trouble! You can’t have a stupid meltdown now!”

  Ryan rounded on her. “I am not stupid!” he shouted in her face, and as often happened when he became upset, his words shifted and became stilted. “Everyone thinks I am stupid or that I do not have emotions or that I do not care about anything but numbers and Fibonacci and television and … and whatever else makes sense! You think everyone has to feel the way you do and talk the way you do, but you are wrong! You do not have a right to call me stupid! No, no, no, no!”

  “You called me stupid before,” she yelled.

  “That’s because you are stupid. You are all stupid because you do not understand me. Shut up shut up shut up!”

  “No understands you!” Alison was openly crying now. “I hate you! I never want to see you again!”

  Ryan threw back his head and screamed. He howled and tore at his hair. The panic fed on itself, gorging and growing like a snake eating its own tail. He couldn’t stop screaming. All the terror and chaos and helplessness poured out of him in a long, dark wail that curled up to the darkening sky. He lost all sense of time. He lost all sense of place. All that existed was the fear and the scream.

  But eventually he grew tired. The red worm inside him faded and vanished. His body became heavy, and the fear pulled back. His throat hurt. His eyes were hot and scratchy. He became aware that he was crouching on the ground in front of the stone with his five dreadful objects. Aches and pains needled his body. Ryan uncurled, pulled himself upright, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  “Alison?”

  But she was nowhere in sight. He looked all around for her, calling her name several times. There was no sign of her. She had abandoned him, and Nox had gone, too. That was a bad thing. Friends were supposed to stay. Those were the rules of friendship. Sadness and anger threatened again, but suddenly he was too tired. He exhaled shakily. Okay. Alison had said she hated him, and he had no reason to think she was lying. If she didn’t want to stay with him, he didn’t want to stay with Alison. Ryan had been alone a lot when he was little, and he was happy to be alone again. The rules of friendship had been broken, so he didn’t need to feel unhappy about losing Alison.

  The sick feeling in his stomach belied that thought, but he ignored it.

  The first question was how to save his parents. He stared at the altar. The rules said he had to choose one element. How could he choose between his dad and his aunts? The rules were horrible.

  But the voice in his head kept calling him a prince, a leader, a general. And the rules of friendship had already been broken. Why did he need to follow the rules of the fair folk? When that thought crossed his mind, something in his head clicked. It was as if he had backed up from some blobs of color and realized they made a picture. A general, a leader, a prince didn’t follow the rules.

  He made the rules.

  Ryan swept the five objects—feather, earth, stick, jar, and sundial—into his arms and stormed toward the staircase that lead down to the lake. The sun had dropped halfway below the horizon on water, meeting its own wavering reflection coming up, a sunrise meeting a sunset.

  Forget the elementals. Forget the fairies. He would make his own rules, his own pattern. He would go straight to source of his problem.

  Yes! The dreadful voice popped back into his head. You have it now! Hurry, my fine, fine prince!

  Ryan ignored it and walked fast, before he could think overmuch. He didn’t even look behind him at the ruined Cottage as he clattered down the steps that descended the cliff, counting automatically to 149 as he went. Then it was twenty-three more steps to the water line. Two prime numbers in a row had to mean something good. Except it would take him one more step to enter the water, and that would be a twenty-fourth step, which was twelve times two, and twelve was the worst number of all.

  No. He couldn’t pause, couldn’t hesitate. He had to go now, before the fairies killed Mom and Dad. Before the black future caught up with him and everyone died. Mom and Dad and the aunts were counting on him. Alison didn’t matter. Nox didn’t matter. Fairy rules didn’t matter. Only his family mattered. He tightened his grip on the five objects. Five was a prime number and a number in the Fibonacci sequence. Good.

  He stomped past the driftwood shelter Alison had built for their things. Lake Michigan lapped against the shore, rushing up the sand and retreating, beckoning and repelling. Gray waves topped with white curls stabbed the beach and smoothed it. Ryan breathed deep. He had never learned how to swim. Water was too chaotic. Even floating in it felt wrong, like he was hanging over an abyss that might suck him down. But Nox said the lake was the gate into the fairy realm. He kicked off his shoes and stepped into the chilly water. The four elemental objects began to glow. The charred stick glowed red. The clump of earth glowed green. The feather glowed gold. The water in the jar glowed blue. With each step Ryan took, the glow grew brighter. After four steps, the glow changed into four pulses that matched Ryan’s heartbeat. Energy crackled around him and raised the hair on the back of his neck. The sundial’s shadow eked ahead toward III.

  “Star!” he said aloud. “I want to see my grandmother Star!”

  Ryan summoned all his courage and plunged into the lake.

  PART II

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The world wrenched. Ryan’s stomach flipped over. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once, just like he had been during the vision that took him to Ireland. His entire body was slipping away from him and he clutched at the four objects for reassurance, but they seemed to come alive in his arms. The feather felt soft and drew him to the right. The water swirled in the jar and pulled him to the left. The charred stick felt gritty and pushed him back. The earth felt solid and yanked him forward. His palm burned.

  “No!” he said aloud. “You will follow my rules now.”

  Yes! exulted the voice. Take your power and make it so!

  He wrapped himself around the elemental objects and shoved himself down. The world wrenched back into existence and he found himself standing on the shore of the lake again, one foot on dry beach, the other past the water line. Except for his feet, he was perfectly dry, and still holding the four objects and the sundial. Their glow had gone out, and the sun was an orange sliver above the water.

  Ryan looked
about, bewildered. He hadn’t gone anywhere. He was still right where he—

  No. That wasn’t true. This place was different. The water washed up to the beach in precise waves, each one curling at exactly the same height as the previous one and coming up to the exactly the same point at the water line. The sand on the beach had been combed by wind into a perfect pattern of ridges that skimmed away in both directions. When Ryan bent down to look more closely, he saw the ridges were themselves made up of tiny ridges, which were in turn make up of more tiny ridges. Noticing the pattern sent a little thrill through him.

  This place was the fairy realm.

  He was hesitant to step on the sand and disturb such a delightful design, but he had no choice. The moment he moved away from the water and created footprints across the sand, air rushed across the beach, swirling behind him and sculpting his prints back into ridges. That made Ryan feel even better, even a little happy. It felt right.

  Ahead of him should have been the driftwood shelter Alison had built. It had disappeared. In its place stood a three-sided shed made of intricately woven branches covered over with enormous seashells. Ryan poked his head inside. The shack he knew at home held old cotton towels, cracked mason jars of stones and shells, and interesting rocks he and Alison had found on the beach. The walls in this shack were hung with soft, silken towels. On the shelves were crystalline vases next to piles of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. A box of carved ebony inlaid with gold spirals caught his attention. He set the earth clump, feather, stick, jar, and sundial on a shelf and opened the box. Inside were thirteen stacks of pasteboard printed with fantastic animals—Flashcard Battle Brawl trading cards. Each card one had been torn down the center and repaired with some kind of glue so skillfully that the tear barely showed.

  Mystified, Ryan closed it. This was an idealized version of the shack Alison had built, and the contents were idealized versions of their possessions, including the trading cards Theresa had torn up. Was all of fairy like this?