by A W Hartoin
Mom lifted him out of the soapy water, giving me a glimpse of his wrinkly spriggan bottom. It was almost as bad as the meat in his teeth.
“Girls, you need to get out. It’s almost time for dinner,” Mom said.
“What?” yelled Iris.
Mom’s jaw tightened and she glared at me, like I’d deafened her or something.
“What?” I yelled, just to bother her. Sometimes I had to do that. I couldn’t explain the urge.
“Matilda Grace Whipplethorn…you…I…just come to dinner.” Mom wrapped Horc in a towel and flew back out.
“What’s wrong with Mom?” yelled Iris.
“Everything’s my fault,” I said.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I pointed at her towel draped over the side of her spoon.
“Close your eyes.”
We did and Iris wrapped herself up like it was fourteen degrees in the bathroom. I dried my leg and foot. The swelling had gone back down and there wasn’t any yellowness. That was a good sign, but the stupid thing just wouldn’t heal. I smeared a good amount of brown linseed poultice all over my ankle and wrapped it in bandages. Hideous.
“I’m going!” Iris waved at me and I waved back.
After she’d flown through the keyhole, Tess dumped a huge amount of shampoo on her head and began scrubbing. “So what do you think? Are you going to take Horc to the Louvre?”
I bit my lip and slipped one of Dad’s big socks over my bandaged ankle. Even more hideous. “I don’t know.”
I couldn’t go alone and taking anyone with me endangered them. What was the lesser of two evils? There might not be a lesser evil. We were in Paris. Evil was everywhere.
“We’ll figure something out.” Tess rinsed her hair and squeezed it dry. Her hair dropped to her shoulders in damp waves and she resembled the Venus de Milo with her lovely face and tousled locks. Judd had showed me the painting on his laptop. He claimed to think it was beautiful, but I think he just liked the nudity.
“What?” she asked.
“You look like the Venus de Milo.”
“Judd says I look like a rhino’s butt.”
I laughed and my leg felt better, lighter somehow. I was about to tell her brother’s opinions don’t count when the door burst open and Marie marched in with a basket over one arm. Tess shrieked and dropped down so that only her large eyes were visible over the edge of the tub.
“Calm down,” said Marie. “You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before.”
“I don’t care what you’ve seen. I’m me,” said Tess, creeping up so that her whole face was visible.
“Good point. Now get dressed. I forgot to buy bread and I want to take you to the boulangerie.”
“What’s a boulangerie?”
“Bakery. Hurry up.” Marie tapped her foot.
Tess grabbed her towel and hid behind it as she stood up. “Do they have cakes?”
“That’s a patisserie.”
I flew out of the way as Tess stepped over the caviar spoons and started for the door.
“Not so fast, Matilda,” said Marie. “You’re going, too.”
“Did you ask Mom?”
“I don’t ask. I inform. So let’s go inform her now.”
We left Tess in the bathroom getting dressed and flew down the hall. While we’d been in the bathroom, the house had filled up with lovely smells, eggplant, tomatoes, and plenty of garlic. My mouth was watering by the time we got to Tess’s room. Mom was setting the table in the far corner of the windowsill and she glanced up when I flew in. Her face had that stricken look that she got whenever Iris yelled what. Sure enough, Iris was rummaging around in the packing boxes, pulling out napkins and a tablecloth.
I switched directions and flew to the other end of the sill where the three patients lay on their pallets. Lrag and Miss Penrose were asleep, but Bentha had thrown off his blanket and was trying to make a break for it.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.
He ruffed up the needles on his head and cocked his head at me. “The battle awaits. The phalanx must be brought to heel.”
“Not by you and not today.” I pushed him back onto his pillows and tucked him in. He swatted at me and generally made a nuisance of himself by kicking the blanket off his feet and trying to poke me with one of his needles. You’d never know he’d just had an arrow removed from his chest only a couple of hours before.
“Can you think of a better time? Those ridiculous creatures think I’m wounded. They won’t be expecting my wrath.”
“Your wrath will have to wait. You’re down to two hearts.”
He slashed his arm around like he had a sword in it. “I can kill them on two hearts. I could do it on one.”
“I just don’t understand why Camille would do this to Lrag. What was the point? Lrag was nothing to him. If he wanted to hurt me, he could’ve outed me to the horen. Camille knew Iris and I were there. I could tell, but he let us go.”
Bentha threw off his blanket again. “It doesn’t matter. I will destroy him for his treachery.”
“Stop it. I want to check your chest.”
“Your kindness is appreciated, but unneeded. Ponderosa are great at healing.”
Marie sat on the window seat and eyed him. “Is there anything ponderosa aren’t great at?”
Bentha pondered that while I peeled the bandage off his chest, revealing two stitches in the center. It wasn’t my work, but I was proud of it. Iris and Lucrece had done a wonderful job when I was too exhausted to take care of Bentha. Lucrece dosed him with white willow and removed the arrow. Bentha wasn’t kidding about his body shutting off the third heart. It hardly bled at all. Then Iris took over, cleaning the wound and stitching everything up. All I had to do was show her the pages in the book about suturing and wound sterilization. Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. The healing gift was supposed to be something you were born with. Iris didn’t have it. No spriggan in the history of spriggans had ever had it. Yet there they were doing a job they shouldn’t have had the stomach for.
“Being unheroic!” Bentha announced.
“What?” I asked.
“The only thing ponderosa aren’t great at.”
“I’d say being humble would be on that list,” said Marie.
“Takes one to know one, my lady,” said Bentha.
“Too true. Some are born to greatness.”
“Some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.”
They both looked at me. I wasn’t feeling that great with my big old gnarly leg, and I definitely didn’t know which kind of great I would be if I was, in fact, great. I was born a kindler, I achieved some stuff — much to Mom’s dismay — and so much stuff had been thrust upon me, it was starting to be a regular thing.
I went behind the boxes and put on a fresh dress and came out combing my hair. “Let’s just go.”
Mom flew over so fast, my hair blew back like a flag in a stiff wind. “You are not going anywhere, little lady.”
Little lady?
“I forgot the bread, Adele. We won’t be a moment.” Marie held out her finger and I fluttered up to land on it.
“Absolutely not. She could’ve been killed or…” Mom was going to say maimed. I’d have bet my wings on it. But since I’d already been maimed she thought better of it. “Hurt. She could’ve been hurt.”
“You can’t hide me away in this apartment,” I said.
“Yes, I can.”
“Fine. I’ll stay here. I’ll never leave. We won’t get the cure for Miss Penrose.” I gestured to Bentha and Lrag. “And this will be for nothing.”
“You can’t go.”
“It’s bread. I want to get bread.”
Mom started to cry. Not upset crying, but seriously I could kill you crying. Dad zipped in and landed next to Mom.
“Adele, what happened?” he asked.
“She wants to get bread!” Mom yelled.
Dad raised an eyebrow. “Bread would be nic
e.”
“She wants to go out there, Ambrose. Out there where people are crazy. Attacking children. Killing them.”
I wanted to light my palm, just to show her I could. I wasn’t some weakling who had to be watched every second. “I’m going. You can’t stop me.”
“See?” said Mom. “She thinks she gets to decide, but she’s fourteen. I decide. I’m the decider.”
“So decide. Is Matilda to be locked up here or does she go out into Paris?” asked Dad. “This decision has wide implications. If you think I can go get that cure for Miss Penrose, I’ll do it.”
“She has to be safe.”
“I’ll never be safe. Safe is for you and Dad. It isn’t for me,” I said.
“It was when Whipplethorn was still standing,” said Mom.
“Well, it isn’t standing anymore. We’re in Paris and I’ve got a job to do.”
“It’s like you want to get killed.”
“I want to get bread.”
“Fine. Go out there. Just don’t come crying to me when you get …”
She was going to say maimed again and I wanted to scream. It wasn’t the worst thing. So my leg wasn’t pretty anymore. Big deal. It could be worse.
Iris flew over. “What’s wrong?”
Mom snatched her out of the air and pressed her to her chest. Dad waved us out. Marie strode out of the room without looking back and met Tess at the door.
“So we’re going?” she asked.
“In more ways than one,” I said.
We passed through the living room where Judd, Rebecca, and Evan were sprawled out dead asleep.
“Your parents should’ve napped earlier. They’ll never get over the jet lag sleeping this late,” said Marie as we went down the elevator.
“Mom said they tried, but it started stinking again,” said Tess.
Marie’s brow wrinkled, but she said nothing and walked through the front door of the apartment building. “This way.”
We went down the street in the fading daylight. I flew to Tess’s shoulder and lay down on her warm skin. The smells of good restaurants drifted around us and I found myself unexpectedly happy. We were in Paris after all. The street was peaceful and the breeze playfully tugged at my dress. Even my leg felt better, since Mom wasn’t there feeling bad about it.
“How far is it?” asked Tess.
“Just around the corner.”
We took a right and found ourselves on a much busier street. It bustled with lively restaurants and busy shops.
“I see it,” said Tess, pointing to a shop across the street.
I never would’ve thought a bakery could be so beautiful. It was painted black with the word “Boulangerie” in gold letters. Gold framed the windows where dozens of baskets of bread sat on gilded shelves. There was a line out the door and I took that as a good sign.
“I wish they had cake,” said Tess.
“If they had cake, it would be the best cake,” I said.
Marie grinned at us. “There’s a patisserie a little farther on. Perhaps if you don’t manage to get in a skirmish with the locals, we can go there, too.”
I scuttled under Tess’s veil of hair. “I’m not even here.”
“Your mother will be so pleased.”
If only that were possible.
We got in the line behind two very old men deep in an argument. In french, the argument sounded kind of nice or at least interesting. Marie bent in close to Tess. “They’re talking about bouillabaisse and whether a proper one must include rascasse.”
Before I could ask what a bouillabaisse was, the whole line of humans turned to the right and a few pointed down the street to a woman. She staggered across the sidewalk and bumped into a tree. Something was around her, but I couldn’t make out what. Her hands were up to protect her face and she swung a slouchy leather purse around wildly. She spun in a circle while several bystanders tried to talk to her. She ignored them and took off in a run towards our end of the street. She wove in between pedestrians, pushing people out of the way and teetering on her high heels. A large man in a dark suit jumped to get out of her way and I saw her terrified face covered with cuts. A sprinkling of blood decorated the lapel of her pale gray suit. I, like everyone else in the line, watched with our mouths open. The woman turned sharply and swung her purse, hitting something mid-air. A fairy. He careened through the air and went splat against a shop window, sliding down the glass and landing on the sidewalk. The woman started in our direction again, but before she made four steps, more fairies were on her. Brown wings wearing red caps mixed with a few other types. They all carried swords and slashed at her hands and face. She screamed and sprinted past our line. I caught a glimpse of another fairy pressed against her neck. A young boy with silvery green wings.
It all happened so fast. Before I could blink, the woman was at the end of the block. Two police officers grabbed her. She struggled with them, smacking the air and screaming. A blue sedan screeched to a halt in front of them and the officers shoved her in the backseat. The car barreled away out of sight and our line turned to face the boulangerie again.
The fairy on the pavement lay still, his sword still in his hand. I leaned forward to get a better look and my leg tingled. I could feel it swelling under the bandage.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Marie.
“Think about what?” I asked.
“Going to him. He’s dead unless I miss my guess and I’ve seen enough death to recognize it.”
“What should we do?” asked Tess. She couldn’t stop looking at the fairy either.
“Nothing. We’re buying bread. That’s all,” said Marie.
“But why would they attack a human?”
“I doubt we’ll ever know.”
“There was a fairy on her shoulder. A little boy, maybe six or seven,” I said. “I bet he had something to do with it.”
“Interesting,” said Marie. “Surely it couldn’t have been a member of the royal family.”
“He looked pretty normal to me, but he had lovely wings.”
The line moved and Tess stepped inside the shop onto a pretty black and white tiled floor. A long glass case lined the left side of the shop. I could barely make it out between the multitude of humans in front of it.
“I’m going to get a closer look,” I said as I took off and soared over the heads of the humans. I darted around hands that shot up in the air, holding euros or pointing out particular loaves. The back wall of the shop was even better than the window. It was floor to ceiling baskets. Each basket had a different style loaf or roll. It smelled warm and dusty with flour. The humans were all smiling and chatting.
I landed on top of the case and ducked as a dark brown loaf covered with sesame seeds went over my head. A seed dropped off and landed on the glass. Mom liked sesame seeds. She could grind it for bread. I dodged a man’s hand covered with gold rings and picked up the seed. A large round-faced fairy dropped onto the counter in front of me.
She held out her hand. “Deux reine.”
I blinked, holding my seed tight to my chest.
“Deux reine.”
“I don’t speak French.”
She sighed and tucked a thick strand of red hair into a loose bun on the top of her head. “Americaine?”
Sounded about right. “I’m an American.”
“For you, I’ll make it one reine and one prine.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. I must’ve looked like I should know because she crossed her arms over her ample bosom and waited. I edged away, looking through the crowd for Marie and Tess. They were at the other end of the counter, ordering.
“Well,” I said. “I’ve got to go.”
“I need my seed or two reine and a prine,” said the fairy. “You do have money in America, don’t you?”
“Money?” Of course I knew about money, but I’d never had any. No fairy I knew ever did. We bartered goods and services.
The fairy took the sleeve of my dress and pulled
me close. “Are you seen?”
“How did you know?”
“Only a fairy who’d been seen wouldn’t have any money.”
“Those are my humans.” I started to point at Marie and Tess, but she knocked my hand down, looking quickly right and left.
“Come this way and do not look at any human.” She spread her dark green wings and flew to a shelf behind the counter. She waved to me. I didn’t know if I should go, but she was the first Parisian fairy who hadn’t either attacked or interrogated me, so I fluttered over and followed her behind the baskets to a little office. She had a table and chair, several filing cabinets, and her own set of baskets filled with crumbs from every loaf in the human shop.
“I’m Hortense. How long—” She turned around, so I couldn’t see what she was saying. She picked up a large paper bag and turned back to me. “Well?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that,” I said.
“How long will you be in Paris?”
“Three months.”
“You should cut your visit short. This is no place for the seen,” said Hortense.
“But why? It’s good to be seen. It’s wonderful.”
“I agree. I’m seen as well, but no one knows that. We’ve worked hard to conceal our good fortune. Here it’s a sign of who you are. I told you the seen don’t have money. They don’t need it. Their humans provide for them. The rest of the population have to earn. I and my family control this shop. A fairy can’t just come in here and pick up a crumb for dinner. They are my crumbs. They must pay. The seen don’t come in here. Their humans will always bring bread. Do you understand?”
“Not really. Why would being seen be so bad?”
“Being seen is quite rare and runs in families. The seen are the elite, the aristocracy. We are thought to be royalists. It’s not a good thing to be a royalist right now. You don’t want your human family getting hurt, do you?” asked Hortense.
“The revolutionaries hurt seers?”
“There have been attacks all over the city. Accidents that weren’t accidents.”
“I just saw a woman running down the street with brown-winged fairies attacking her,” I said.
“Did they have the red cap or the golden feather?”