With a Kiss

by Stephanie Fowers

  Chapter Eight

  The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences

  of sorrow,

  The laughter of the sun to-day, the wind of

  death to-morrow.

  Far sweeter sound the forest-notes where forest-

  streams are falling;

  O mother mine, I cannot stay, the fairy-folk

  are calling.

  —Sarojini Naidu, Village Song

  I settled Babs onto a pink and yellow fuzzy blanket at the foot of my bed. She stared up at me with that same trust in her eyes. "Don't worry, kid. You'll be okay." I took her plump little hand, and she wrapped it around my finger.

  To be honest, I wasn't sure how I'd make good on my promise. According to the Internet, there were all sorts of protective charms to keep a baby safe from faeries, and whoever made them up happened to be sadistic: open scissors over the bed, a pin in the clothes, an iron nail under the cushions. A circle of fire. What had the charms against these baby stealing faeries really been before history got them all twisted? I had a feeling that these dangerous trinkets were only good as weapons against whoever tried to take her, not for luck. Still. If there was anything that kept the hag at bay, I'd try it.

  Speaking of names I couldn't say, things would've been a whole lot easier if Babs had a real one. Apparently a proper christening kept the baby safe . . . and a chain of daisies. I felt ridiculous, but I placed a chain of daisies Hobs had gathered fresh from my backyard over her head anyway. Her stubby fingers immediately got tangled in them.

  Hobs' eyes widened in dismay and he pulled away from my computer, his bare feet stomping over the clothes on my floor. "What are you doing?" He peeled the daisies off her and chucked them. "You'll keep the faeries away."

  "Well, apparently it didn't keep you away." I found myself staring at his sweats cut off at the knees. His legs were cut like a biker's, except he had some hairy legs. I tried not to laugh. It had only been a few hours. "Where do you get your clothes?"

  "Magic. It really comes in handy, you should try it sometime." He pushed away my mountain of clothes and flattened on the ground next to us. He tickled Babs' soft cheek. "Just how were you expecting her to fall asleep if you keep the faeries away?" He met my eyes, but I had nothing to say. I was tired of worrying. Well, I guess I was just plain tired all around. He inspected my worn face and read my expression. "I'll watch her." He reached over to me, using his thumbs to rub away the black mascara from under my eyes, like he wanted to tease me, but his better judgment won out for once. He pulled back. "You can't go to sleep, can you?"

  I shook my head. No matter how much I tried, it wouldn't work. It was ironic punishment. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life, and I couldn't break this vigilant guard I had over Babs. I was her keeper, which meant I would die of exhaustion.

  Hobs regarded me for a moment. "Is it like you have a pea in your bed?"

  Despite my pain, I felt the sides of my lips tug up. "I'm a little old to be wetting the bed." He looked confused, having no idea what I was talking about. "You know, pee . . . it means, well, sometimes . . ." My jokes always got lost in translation, and apparently they didn't have the same slang in faeryland. Hobs just looked blank, and I threw my head back and laughed anyway.

  He humored me with a chuckle and swept my room with a glance. "Where's your shadow?"

  "It wandered off somewhere. I just hope it doesn't go too far."

  Hobs tried to hide his worry. His worry—not the fact that he was hiding it from me—surprised me. "Well, at least your shadow seems to be doing alright."

  He had a point. Babs was too quiet, and I found myself confiding in Hobs; something I wasn't used to doing with anyone, but I was freaking out here. I tugged his arm. "Something's wrong with Babs. Maybe she's sick too. I'm worried about her. Doesn't it take a while for changelings to adjust to the human world? Don't they get sick or something?"

  "This one? No. She's been here before."

  "What? How?"

  Hobs bit his lip cryptically. "The trick is to switch the baby before the eyes change. And then when the eyes turn from blue to brown . . . no one knows the difference."

  My own eyes narrowed. I thought he said that faeries didn't care about taking humans? "So, whose baby is this really?"

  "Not mine." By now I was used to his flippant responses. Babs' small fingers curled around the swirly toy and she sucked on the handle, giving me a close up of it. The snow was gone from the toy's face, and instead it mirrored the room. Wait, no, it didn't really. I sat up. It was another room, and there was a white wicker crib in it, a very grand one. A boy about three years of age with blond hair stood next to it in respectful silence. Hobs? It looked like him, but it would have to be years ago. And he looked so solemn.

  I stole the toy from Babs. She watched me curiously. "It's how mirrors work," Hobs said. I jerked when I found him looking over my shoulder again. He dimpled, not pulling back, just staring into the mirror with me. "In the Sidhe, you see what you want to see in these. Just pick one up and the vision appears." He let out a self-conscious laugh. "I mean, a real vision, not uh . . . you. Anyway, in the Otherworld, when a faery gives you a fey stone like this, you see what they want you to see. It's pretty primitive, but it does the job."

  "The faery queen wants me to see this?"

  After a moment, he nodded. For some reason, he was nervous.

  Dragging myself up from the floor, I sat down on the end of the bed to focus on the toy. What was she trying to tell me? Unlike the mirror in the dressing room, I was watching a picture, instead of it watching me, which made me feel better about it. Through the screen, the faery queen swept past the cradle in her light of blue and silver robes. Onagh was as lovely as I remembered. She leaned over the wicker basket. The baby's fat fingers swatted over the cradle and caught hold of the faery's shimmering, platinum hair.

  My bare toes curled into the ragged carpet beneath me. If that kid standing next to her was Hobs, then why was Babs still a baby? Hobs hadn't been exaggerating. Babs really didn't grow. Was she really seventeen like me?

  Babs held her mother's hair adoringly. The love in her shadowed eyes made me want to cry. The real Babs' eyes held more sadness now. The faery queen sprinkled sparkly dust over her daughter, all the while bestowing on her an enchantment:

  "With nurture and care, she blesses the Sidhe. Her name's good fortune, she's winsome and free. Beloved of mortals, her light sparkles and shines. She rules with love through the ravage of time."

  The faces on the swirly toy dulled at Onagh's words until I saw my own image reflected back through the mirror. "No wonder everyone wants her," I said under my breath. According to this record, Babs was meant to rule the land of the faeries, maybe over the mortals, too. I turned to the baby and shrieked when I saw rodents crawling all over her. Before I could stomp them into the ground, I got a better look. Wait, not rodents—tiny little faeries. There were about a dozen of them, and they were quite busy.

  Hobs leaned back, watching the scene enfold with a content look. "They're just silkies. They're putting our baby to sleep."

  My eyes darted back and forth between the strange things. They were beautiful creatures, but I didn't trust them. And I wouldn't hesitate to smash them like bugs if they stepped out of line. They seemed completely unaware of the danger. I took a shaky breath. "Is this a baby shower or a cradle robbery?"

  "Relax. This is usual night time procedure for babies." Hobs stood up and draped an arm around me so he could lead me over. "Let me introduce you. The one in the little blue dress is Dormette. She gives the children pleasant dreams." Dormette glanced over at us and gave a delicate curtsy. She looked like a miniature French maid. "Ole Luk Oj blows dust into their eyes and necks to make babies fall asleep." A crotchety old faery leaned heavily on a walking stick, gathering the dust from the air in his wrinkled palms. It would take him a long time to get down to business. He was an old one. "And Nanny Buttoncap tucks them into their beds." Nanny Buttoncap was exactly
how I imagined a British nanny to look, mobcap and all, though ten times smaller. She fretted over Babs, cooing and tucking. I was fascinated, and a little creeped out. "And then there's Lull. She lulls babies to sleep."

  Lull danced around the little faery princess. Babs tried to grab for her, most likely to suck on her, but Lull spun expertly away. Her brown faery skirts brushed against Babs' cheek. The baby smiled in response, squinting. I relaxed. Well, if Babs liked them, I suppose I could put up with these hyperactive action figures. Smiles on her were rare.

  "Bean Tigh!" Hobs shot forward.

  An elderly woman had walked into the room. She was human size, but Hobs looked genuinely happy to see her. Her rosy cheeks were dimpled, and she looked like a female version of Santa Claus. She closed my window with highly capable hands. The beads on my curtain shifted slightly as if caught by a sudden wind. The woman winked at me. "Won't do to have a draft, dearie." She straightened Babs' blanket with small, wrinkled fingers. Nanny Buttoncap looked affronted next to her, and I relaxed. It was like watching dolls at play. The firefly sized faeries sang lullabies over Babs, barely a buzz, but still comforting. Babs' eyes closed.

  If only the spell worked on me.

  Hobs straightened, looking as guilty as sin. I lifted my head to see a tall woman stalk into the room. She ducked under the doorjamb, her head crooked at an awkward angle. "Muma helps lost children get back to their parents," he said in a rush. "I didn't expect her to come."

  "Oh, so we should've kept the daisies on Babs?" I angrily reached for them, but Hobs' hands were on my arm, preventing me from making any fast moves. Muma's eyes narrowed. She was stout as she was tall, and all of it was muscle. "She's not taking Babs back to anybody unless I see where she's going." I didn't bother to lower my voice. "I'm her keeper. I don't care if this lady tries to stomp me into the ground for it."

  "Muma, honey, what an unexpected surprise." Hobs was already doing his fast talking. He pushed from me and guided the giant away. Her plain skirts rustled behind her. "What are you doing here?" As if he didn't know!

  "Where have you been hiding her, Hobs?" The woman's voice was like thunder. I winced and forced myself to stand my ground. "This one's been gone a long time."

  "Now, Muma." He tried to defend himself like some schoolboy with a strict teacher. I wondered how many altercations he'd had with her over stolen babies. It looked like he'd had plenty of practice. "It wasn't me."

  While they squabbled, the mirror on the swirly toy shifted into a cloudy picture. I gaped at the scene unraveling through it. Cackling laughter assaulted my ears, the same laughter that came from the hag in the theater. Since it was in Babs' toy, it was like watching the history channel; almost as safe as a documentary . . . well, a little less safe considering the circumstances.

  Hobs stepped in front of me, trying to shield me from Muma's view.

  "Get out of my way." Muma shoved him away to stare at the toy herself.

  Hobs forced his way back in again and argued with her. "Muma, we have orders from the queen of the Seelie Courts. Everything is fine."

  "Oh, do you? You?"

  The toy was alive with drama. Porcelain white arms clasped a baby close. One glimpse of the fuzzy hair and I knew the baby was Babs. I turned to her lying on her back on the pink blanket. She was still here, yet the image was so real. The real girl watched me somberly with half-closed eyes. After a moment, I broke away and went back to the toy. This must've been when Babs had been stolen from her mother. The menacing form held tightly to the sobbing baby as they flew above the rooftops. I listened to the hag's angry curse, and winced under it.

  "Unless you love, you cannot rule? Then you must live among these fools. T'will sow distrust, the fear of loss. So bind your heart or face the cost. You cannot love for if you do, the love of mortals fades from view."

  "No!" I shouted. I stood up, rattling the toy. I knew those hands. They had come for me too. For some reason the hag wanted both of us. Hobs and Muma stopped arguing to stare. My fear for Babs made me aggressive. I couldn't allow what the hag had done to me to happen to this baby. "She cannot love!" I swung around to Hobs. "Did you hear this? Our baby can't love!"

  Hobs gave the toy a cursory glance then shrugged. "Of course she can. Just ignore it." He continued arguing with Muma. "I have it under control. This isn't . . ."

  "She cannot love or she won't be loved? That's the curse, Hobs! Why don't you care about this at all?"

  "What?" The words seemed to sink in and he gripped my arm. "She can't love? At all? No one told me about that!" Hobs ripped the toy out of my hand and shook it roughly until the scene came back so he could peruse it for himself. "Oh," he said in some relief. "It just concerns mortals. What do we care?"

  I heard that faeries were selfish, but what a jerk! "She can't love me. I'm a mortal. You idiot!" I didn't like this at all. Muma shot Hobs a disapproving look and he actually colored under it. "She will rule only when she loves?" I tried to work out the hag's curse. "But she will never love . . . or she loses everything? Oh no, poor Babs!"

  Was that why she seemed so serious? Her heart had been bound? I kneeled next to her, brushing the silkies away. They cried out irritably, but I didn't care. All I cared about was her, and it made no sense, considering who I was. The hag had called me a Child of Darkness. Why would the hag seek out a cold creature like me? I knew her hands. The hag had set me up from birth. Faerytales were prophecies. I was the keeper. I had no idea what that meant, but the hag must've known our paths would cross with this kid's and she wanted me to hurt her. I was the one who would teach Babs that love wasn't to be trusted.

  Babs blinked up at me. I felt like crying, especially since she had no idea how bad I was for her. Sure, the faery queen had jumpstarted my heart so I wouldn't hurt her baby, but if Babs loved, the love of mortals would fade from view. Didn't Onagh know that if her baby loved me, the curse would destroy her child? My love wasn't enough, would never be enough. There had to be a way to break our little girl's curse.

  I landed on my knees next to Babs and scooped her up, holding her close. "Oh, honey." I patted her soft back. "I won't let this happen to you. I won't. I'll get you out of this mess." Babs' little fist broke under my arm and she patted my back in return, as if she were comforting me instead.

  "She won't lose everything." Hobs sighed, probably wondering how much to tell me. I gave him a look that told him he'd better spill his guts. "You're the one meant to be with her." He knelt next to me, his broad shoulder brushing against mine. "It's not like you're helping her because you care about her, right?" I was silent, wondering if that was true anymore. "You have to help her because of that thing on your head. So love?" He laughed. "We don't have to worry about love. There's nothing to get upset about."

  I bit down, trying to think. It was hard, considering how emotional I was getting lately. Hobs was right. It was probably this crown on my head that made me care so much. It made me do strange things. Was I really worried that I would hurt Babs? I tried to evaluate this. Not worried, exactly. Babs and I had the same heart disorder, that's all. Babs blinked up at me with that perpetual faith in her eyes. I didn't deserve it.

  "Maybe I shouldn't have her." It hurt to say. "I think this curse is talking about me. I won't be good for her." It had been painful when Hobs had wheeled her down another aisle in a grocery cart. I couldn't imagine the torture I would go through once she was really gone, but if this Muma really returned babies to parents, it was for the best.

  I felt Hobs' hands on my shoulder and he squeezed. "Then it's a good thing you won't have her for that long." I knew he was working the only thing that moved me: logic, except I didn't have much of that anymore. "It's just an extra reason to get rid of her, right? Give her to her people, so she won't be hurt by some human?"

  What if I was that human?

  Hobs smoothed out the trail of goose bumps over my arms until he found Babs' little hands too. He played with her fingers, then pulled away to reassure me with his eyes. "Let's fig
ure out how to get her to her mom, alright? We'll do it together. We'll keep her safe."

  I knew how. Give her to Muma. I turned, but the lady was already gone. Hobs worried his lower lip. "She knows the babe's in good hands now," he said. "None of us have a choice. We have to go through with this. It's the only way to break the curse." It was like he was trying to justify it to himself. "We can't do it any other way."

  I pressed my face into his chest, holding Babs between us. "Okay."

  I felt his arms stiffen.

  Three horrid crones materialized inside my room. Hobs tried to stop me, but I was out of his hands faster than he could. Was this what he had been implying? He meant to work with these sorts of lowlifes because he thought he had no choice? The silkies had either been beautiful or kind, but these were neither. I had studied enough folklore to recognize the three sisters of fate.

  "What are they doing here?" I asked. "This can't be the usual procedure for babies."

  "Relax. It's Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld!"

  The crones stretched out their terrible fingers, their knobby knuckles knocking together as they pointed me out. Their eyes were sinister. "Cost cost. Thief, you shall feel the cost. Reclaim. Redeem. Restore all that was lost. Lost, lost."

  Hobs gave me a weak smile. "They always say that, ever since they lost their spindle."

  "Well, tell them we don't have it!" I tried to back away, but Hobs put an iron grip on me. I knew he had every intention of forcing me to meet up with them. "What are you doing?" I couldn't get free. "Let me go! The last thing Babs needs is another curse." I elbowed him hard, but his clenched jaw was the only indication that I hurt him.

  "They don't do curses," he said tightly. "They're Norn, the guardians of fate. And they only see the future if it's happened before."

  That didn't make sense until I remembered the faerytale prophecies. "Well, I don't like it. Get them away from us. Please!"

  But the crones only came closer. Hobs held Babs and me captive. I groaned, seeing a gnarled hand snake to our baby's smooth forehead. The old woman touched a yellowed fingernail against her skin and wrote with invisible letters. "Sweet," she croaked. "Stolen from a happy home. The Queen of Hearts, you shall be known." Her white hair yellowed as she spoke, and her pale skin smoothed out until she stepped away from us, now a beautiful young woman. I couldn't unclench my hands. They made little fists under poor Babs' back. I refused to let her go.

  The second Fate trailed bony fingers across Babs' weary face. "In time, you'll brave the winter storm. Take courage. Grow to your new form." Fire crackled from the Norn's scalp and whipped around her shoulders in a sheet of vibrant red hair, her skin coppery and golden. She smiled gently as the third Norn took her turn with Babs.

  "Your heart is strong. Your smile doth nurse. The kiss of mortals breaks the curse."

  Despite being freaked out of my mind, I couldn't miss what they were saying. The kiss of mortals breaks the curse? I was a mortal. All it would take was a kiss? By now I watched to see how the next crone would transform. A dark-skinned beauty touched Babs on the lips with delicate fingers—a far cry from the gnarled ones she had sported seconds earlier. With a black-eyed glance at me, she wrenched Babs from my arms with hardly any effort at all. I growled out as, instead of a gaggle of crones, Babs was now surrounded by serene guardian angels. Their hair was way too big. Not like I was jealous.

  After fussing and singing over the little baby, they laid her on the soft pink blanket. The girls gave Hobs a brisk nod, then vanished. As soon as they did, I shrugged him away from me, too angry to speak. He let me go, and I hurried to Babs' side, kneeling. I would smother her with kisses if that's what it took to break this curse, but before I could, I hesitated. What was the usual procedure? I leaned over Babs and kissed her on the cheek. A little coldly, but old habits were hard to break. I gave Hobs a sidelong glance. "You think that did it?"

  He hid a smile. "Yeah, probably."

  That meant no. I felt helpless. Compared to everything I was fighting, I had no power whatsoever. I couldn't stop any of this because my heart wasn't working . . . not fully. And yet I was her protector. She depended on me. I rested my tired head against the cluttered ground next to hers. "It's going to be okay." I tried to give her a smile, but it came out a little weak. My own comfort felt hollow at best.

  Babs startled me with a gummy grin. My head tilted to the side, so that her fingers barely missed slapping the star twinkling over my forehead. I couldn't believe it. I got her to smile. My own turned more genuine. "Do you like that?" I asked. She didn't answer, but wrapped her fingers around the crown in my hair. Luckily she didn't tug. I patted her back awkwardly. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star," I really couldn't hold a note, but I tried to lull her to sleep with it anyway. "How I wonder what you are."

  I didn't really know the words, but I watched her eyelids lower when sleep finally overtook her. She still had a firm grip on my hair. What the silkies couldn't do, I did. I twisted to Hobs, feeling the rough carpet against my face. He sat on the edge of my bed, studying me like I was a fascinating science experiment. Once our gazes caught, he knelt at my side. "What is wrong with you?" he asked.

  I laughed, but I felt a sadness I didn't know was possible until tonight. Everything inside me was too hard to control. "You try not to be so emotional when you haven't gotten any sleep and you've never felt . . . you've never felt . . ." I sighed. "Remember the first time you touched me?"

  He nodded, his lashes hiding the expression in his eyes, but I could tell he was worried.

  "This hurts worse," I said. "My heart? I don't know how much it will take. I'm not used to feeling things, Hobs. I . . . I've got to get us back faster than three days, or I'm dead. I swear this will kill me."

  He set his jaw, and the warmth of his hand lingered over mine even after he left the room.