Fairy Bad Day

by Amanda Ashby

  “How do you know it’ll be okay? I mean, if I was your mom, I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t do anything. One minute he was there and then he was gone.” Olivia looked like she was going to cry again but instead took a deep breath and clamped down on her lower lip.

  “Yeah, well, between you and me, my mom wouldn’t have had the patience to sweet-talk the guard while he checked the car. She totally would’ve floored it and taken down the boom gate. Anyway, we’re here now, but, Olivia, it would be better if you waited outside.”

  Olivia nodded. “Emma, please get him back. You and the baby need your dad.”

  “I know. I will.” Emma paused for a moment and hugged her stepmother before turning to the backseat, where Loni, Tyler, and Curtis were all crammed in. “Will you guys stay here with Olivia? Make sure she’s okay?”

  “Sorry, but you’re not going in there alone,” Loni said in a firm voice as she got out of the car and Curtis followed. “We’re in this together.”

  “Touching, really, but maybe we could lose the Three Musketeer stuff and get a move on?” Rupert suddenly dived toward them. After their release from the car, the fairies had chosen to fly on ahead, and judging by the amount of sugar around their mouths, they had been waiting for some time.

  “Yes, where have you been?” Gilbert tapped at the tiny watch on his wrist as a worried expression morphed across his face. “Our dark brother has arrived, and if you were any later he would’ve had time to tap all the arteries and drain all the blood that he needs—”

  “Okay, enough with the details.” It was actually Tyler who cut them off. “Go and do your thing and I’ll make sure that Olivia is okay.”

  “Thanks.” Emma reached out and squeezed his hand.

  “Yeah, it’s so touching that I might possibly throw up,” Trevor muttered. “Now come on already. Follow us; we know a shortcut.”

  Without another word, the three fairies darted off to the main entrance and into the thick Sunday lunchtime crowd. Thankfully Emma had been chasing fairies through the mall for six weeks now and she had no problem following them as they swooped and swerved their way through like three tiny but very erratic bullets. They turned left into a fire exit, and after going down a flight of stairs, Emma suddenly found herself right outside the burned-out shell that was once Hong Kong Wong. A few seconds later Curtis and Loni joined her, panting as they tried to catch their breath.

  The black plastic was still hanging over the entire counter, cutting it off from the rest of the food court, but instead of going straight inside, Gilbert came to a halt and nervously started to wring his tiny hands.

  “So what’s the plan?” he demanded, his wings making a whirring sound.

  “I kill it. Do you have any tips?” Emma’s voice was flat. The small fairies all gulped at the same time.

  “Sorry, I wish we did. We might be family but there are still trust issues, and no darkhel has ever revealed where their point of weakness is. Pity. Isn’t there some sort of Sir Francis hotline you can call?” Gilbert asked.

  Emma shook her head. “There’s no hotline.”

  “That’s a flaw.” Rupert fluttered his wings. “Definitely. If I were you, I’d be wanting a hotline.”

  Emma didn’t bother to respond. Instead she glanced around the half-full food court and made sure no one was looking in their direction. Then she nodded to Curtis and Loni and pushed back the black plastic so that they could slip undetected into the fire-damaged kitchen.

  The moment the black plastic fell shut behind them, she dropped her slaying kit and pulled out her sword. Curtis was right beside her, wearing his glasses, unbelievably silent despite his crutches, and then Loni, clutching at her laser like it was a light saber. There was no sign of the darkhel, but over in the far corner Emma caught sight of a group of bodies, all lying limply like rag dolls at a toy hospital, their arms bloodied and bruised. The smell of blood cloyed in her nose until Emma felt like she was choking on it.

  Curtis and Loni seemed to be struggling as well as they all hurried over. Among the bodies Emma was able to discern the Lewis twins and Professor Yemin as well as several other people on the list.

  “They’re alive.” Loni’s voice was a little above a whisper as she dropped to her knees and started checking everyone out. “They’re all alive.”

  Emma let out her breath, but then froze as she caught sight of her father, lying on a countertop in the middle of the room. She only just managed to stifle a scream as she raced over to his limp body. His face was waxen and pale and his arms were covered with deep angry-looking bruises, just like the others, and for one dreadful minute Emma thought she was too late. Then she saw the shallow rise and fall of his chest and she felt a tremendous surge of hope.

  “Dad, it’s okay. I’m here,” she said as she tried to drag him up into a sitting position. There was no answer but she didn’t let it put her off. “And everything’s going to be fine. I just need to get you out of here and—”

  “I don’t think so . . . ” The darkhel suddenly emerged from the burned-out freezer. It had a large bowl gripped tightly in one talon and a heavy book in the other. Instantly, Emma’s stomach cramped up and she doubled over in pain.

  Next to her Curtis stiffened in shock, and as Emma managed to straighten up, she realized why.

  Last night at her window, the darkhel had definitely looked larger than before, but nothing could have prepared her for the full reality of what it had become since its soul had been restored.

  It was now at least ten feet tall, and its whole body was broader and thicker, with sinewy muscles bulging out from its arms and thighs. The room seemed too small to accommodate its enormity. At the sight of the creature Emma was filled with a sense of dread like she’d never felt before.

  Only the red eyes seemed the same, and they were now fastened in on her.

  She glanced at her watch and realized there was still another hour before it would be banished. She felt sick at the impossibility of the task that loomed before her.

  “We can do this, Emma,” Curtis whispered from next to her as if reading her mind. “Just don’t let it scratch you.”

  “That’s the plan,” she said before turning to Loni, her voice urgent. “While I distract it can you try and get as many of them out of here as possible?”

  “Of course.” Loni’s face was deathly pale, but Emma hardly noticed as the darkhel raced headlong toward them. Without pausing to think, she pulled a silver knife out of her pocket, and as she ran toward the beast, she took aim and threw the knife. It twinkled as it spun across the destroyed kitchen before hitting the darkhel in the shoulder and bouncing harmlessly onto the ground. For a moment the beast paused and looked irritated as it rolled its giant shoulder as if trying to shake off the pain.

  It was fair to say it didn’t look happy and so Emma quickly followed up on her attack by throwing a nail file. This time it didn’t even stop when the weapon bounced off its thick skin, just continuing to charge at her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Loni was dragging out the limp, injured bodies one by one.

  Emma held up her sword and waited until the darkhel was almost on top of her before she used all her strength to thrust it upward into its chest. The sword plunged deep into the darkhel’s body and she felt herself grunt with satisfaction in knowing that this time she had actually damaged it.

  But her elation didn’t last for long as the creature once again reached out with its talons. She ducked just in time, but her sudden movement threw her off balance and she went crashing to the ground. Every part of her hurt as she realized that the creature really was stronger than it had been before. Now it was looming over her, bearing down on her, its red eyes full of loathing.

  However, before it could strike at her, Curtis suddenly appeared and tried to drive his sword through the creature’s ribs. The ploy didn’t work and she could see him wince in pain at the exertion of the movement. However, it gave her time to get back to her feet, though as she did so, she re
alized that the darkhel was no longer trying to attack her. Now its deadly gaze was fixed firmly on Curtis.

  “No,” she screamed. Then, in what seemed to be Matrixlike slow motion, the beast lunged at him, its deadly poisonous talons aimed directly at Curtis’s throat. One scratch and Curtis would be dead. Instinctively, she pushed him out of the way and they both went crashing down to the ground.

  She groaned in pain and she tried to wriggle into a sitting position as the darkhel raced at them again. Next to her Curtis was groggily rubbing his temple as the darkhel pivoted around and once again tried to slash at them.

  “Curtis, move,” she yelled, too late, realizing that his white sunglasses were lying in a broken pile on the floor. Emma felt the blood pound in her temples as she caught sight of Curtis’s grim expression. Oh God, what had she done?

  “Your glasses. I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t pushed you—”

  “Then I would be darkhel shish kebab by now,” Curtis managed to say as he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the damaged glasses. “So stop looking at me and concentrate on what it’s doing.”

  Emma spun around just in time to see the darkhel once more coming at her. This time she didn’t raise her sword. Instead she just held it in her hand until the creature was almost upon her. At the very last instant she lifted it up and thrust it deep between the creature’s ribs.

  For a moment the darkhel paused, then reached out and swiped her with a deadly talon, but before she could parry the blow, Curtis stepped in and blocked it with his crutch, then ducked and struck the creature just above the knee.

  Emma gasped as she realized that Curtis, without his glasses, was working purely from intuition. The creature, meanwhile, just stared at the crutch for a moment before reaching out with a giant arm and sending Curtis flying back into some tables. Emma instantly leaped forward, but the moment she did, the darkhel flicked her away like she was an irritating mosquito then picked her up and threw her back into the tables. She felt the wood splinter as she landed awkwardly on her ankle. She groaned in pain as the darkhel’s foot came crashing down on her chest, slamming the air out.

  “Enough.” Its voice was low and throbbing with malice. “It’s over. And although I know I should kill you, I think it would be more fun to let you live. So you can reflect every day for the rest of your miserable life on how you failed to stop me. Just like your mother.”

  “My mother didn’t fail.” Emma gasped for air as the creature pressed its heel harder into her chest. “She banished you. That’s called winning in my book.”

  “Oh, foolish human. You are truly pathetic.” The creature loomed over her. It was so powerful now that she felt the strength draining from her just by looking at it. “Not to mention stupid. Do you really not know the price your mother paid?”

  “What are you talking about? My mother released your soul from the soul box, just like I did. She was the one who left me the key,” Emma said as she thought of the crystal necklace.

  “Well, I’ll grant you that she did manage to find the key. It’s just a pity she could never find anything to open with it,” the creature hissed, its vile breath hot against Emma’s skin as it reached down and effortlessly plucked her up by the neck. “Your mother used what I believe she called the Death Curse.”

  Emma’s breath caught in her throat as the creature tightened its grip. She gasped for air as she tried to make sense of what it was saying. “You’re lying.”

  Her mother had been one of the strongest slayers who had ever lived.

  She died from an infection in the hospital.

  It took four days. Emma was there. She’d seen it...

  “Oh . . . don’t tell me you didn’t realize that your mother never found my soul box? That she had to use another method to banish me back beyond that stinking gate? That she gave her life to stop me from finding what I was seeking?” The darkhel’s voice was full of mockery.

  Emma felt sick.

  The darkhel’s grip continued to tighten around her throat, but it was the creature’s words that were doing the real damage. The darkhel had killed her mother.

  The beast had killed her mom.

  But before the world went black she caught sight of Curtis hobbling forward and thrusting his sword deep into the creature’s side. Emma instantly fell to the ground, her ankle flaring with pain. The darkhel didn’t even wince as it sent a giant fist pummeling into Curtis’s face, and Emma whimpered as the skin around his eye split open and started to bleed profusely down his golden cheek.

  “Now. The two of you can watch.” The darkhel grinned as it stalked over to where the bowl it had been carrying was lying on the floor. It scooped it up and carried it over to the countertop where Emma’s dad was lying unconscious. “Now . . . let’s begin.” Emma watched in horror as the creature flipped open the heavy book and started to chant some words in Latin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Emma screamed as she tried to crawl forward on her injured ankle over to where her father was lying prostrate on the counter, but the darkhel ignored her as it continued to chant.

  “What’s happening?” Curtis demanded. Fright had turned his face an ominous greenish color. “How much longer before it’s banished? Can you hold it?”

  Emma stared at him for a moment as the full impact of the situation washed over her. The darkhel had won. Which meant that she had lost.

  “What’s going on?” Curtis repeated. “Talk to me. Tell me what it’s doing. You’ve got to be my eyes.”

  “I can’t do it, Curtis.” She shook her head and let the pain have its way with her. “It’s too strong. I don’t know how to fight it. No one does. Not Sir Francis. Not my mom—she used the Death Curse.” Emma started to sob. “It killed her and now it’s going to kill my dad. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed you. Your glasses are broken, which means—”

  “No!” he screamed, his voice laced with steel. “You haven’t failed anyone. Now go fight this thing. You’re a fairy slayer and it’s a fairy.”

  “Curtis, please, you know as well as I do that I just made up all that fairy-slaying stuff. I mean, who tries to kill things with hairspray?” Emma let defeat crawl through her like an old friend. It was just too hard. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. It’s all been for nothing.”

  “Stop it. Just because it’s not in Sir Francis’s book doesn’t mean the darkhel can’t be killed. After all, it’s not in the book to touch a stupid statue on the face every time we pass it, but we all do it. You can’t give up.” Curtis’s face was racked with pain as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and blindly threw a single nail file at the darkhel.

  Despite Curtis’s inability to see his target, the file embedded itself in the darkhel’s sinewy arm and the bowl fell to the ground with a clatter. From up by the ceiling Trevor, Rupert, and Gilbert let out a roar of approval.

  However, Emma couldn’t share their excitement. All Curtis’s attack had bought them was an extra minute.

  The darkhel glared at the three small fairies as it reached down and scooped up the bowl. “Laugh now, but the gate will be open soon and my true brothers will able to teach you some lessons in what it really means to be a fairy.”

  “Well, if you’re so different than us, why does metal feel like a hot lance running through your bones?” Trevor retorted in a loud voice.

  “Of course we use these nifty antimagnetic wrist straps,” Gilbert added, sounding more like infomercial than anything else. “They really help draw away the pain. Amazing, and cheap too. I guess we forgot to tell you about them.”

  “Enough.” The darkhel howled as it took another step closer to the table where Emma’s father was lying. “I’m nothing like you.”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, but I can see the burn mark the nail file left on your arm,” Rupert retorted. “You’re exactly like us. Just without the good taste in clothes. I mean, what’s with all the leather? And I swear that belt of yours has a skull and crossbones on it. Ple
ase, could you try any harder to be a cliché?”

  “What did you just say?” Emma felt something tugging at the back of her mind and she looked up to the ceiling, where Rupert was still hovering in small rapid circles.

  “Skull and crossbones? Cliché?” the fairy asked.

  “No. Before that. You said the darkhel’s just like you.”

  “No, I’m not,” the darkhel howled as it opened up its giant wings and spread them out. The room suddenly seemed tiny as they angrily beat the air until all the loose plastic that had been covering the benches lifted up as if in protest. Then, without another word, the creature held the bowl under Emma’s father’s neck and Emma screamed as she realized it was planning to slit her dad’s throat and drain the blood.

  Finally, the lethargy and despair she had been feeling disappeared as an idea suddenly came to her.

  “Curtis.” Emma ignored the pain in her ankle as she forced herself to stand up. Then she reached out and grasped his hand. It felt solid and warm in hers. “I know what to do but I need your help. The darkhel’s standing by the table. It’s just about to get to my dad. Can you please buy me some time? I know you can’t see it, but—”

  “Emma, I’ve spent my life fighting things I can’t see. I’ve got your back,” Curtis assured her as he rose to his feet, grabbed one of his crutches, and limped his way over to near where the darkhel was standing, still beating its wings in a furious rhythm as it held a deadly talon up to Emma’s father’s neck. “What are you going to do?”

  “I think I know why we have to touch Sir Francis’s head every time we pass the statue. It’s not for luck—it’s to remind us to think for ourselves. So I think I’m going to be a fairy slayer and break every rule there is.” The adrenaline started to surge through her.