by A W Hartoin
“This might sting a little,” I said.
“You can’t use fire,” said Dad.
“You got a better idea?”
“Go for it.”
I burned through his ropes and he only flinched a little. We shuffled sideways toward the sword and the edge of the vase’s pedestal. When we reached the sword, I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. “Pick it up.”
Dad swallowed hard, crouched, and got the sword behind his back in one swift movement. “Now what?”
Maxime screamed, “Stop this! They’re getting away!”
Dad and I froze.
“That’s right, you idiots,” said Rogier. “While we fight each other the spriggans are escaping.”
“You’re the idiots,” said Camille.
I pushed Dad around the side of the pedestal. Once out of sight, we spread our wings and flew up to the bottom of the vase and looked past the gold pottery foot at the arguing.
“They’re not very good, are they?” asked Dad.
“They’re good at getting killed. Let’s circle the room to the left and get out.”
We flew high above the phalanx and gold feathers around the back of the throne to the other vase. Dad darted ahead of me. “They realized we’re missing.”
We hid on the side of the pedestal and watched the brown wings form up and begin a grid search. They were joined by a few gold feathers, but the rest left with the phalanx, presumably to go kill spriggans.
“Maybe they won’t see us,” said Dad.
“I’m not usually that lucky.”
“Oh, no. I think they smell you.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Flowers and happiness.”
Crap. That stupid happiness again.
The brown wings were closing in.
“We have to make a break for it. Get out the way the priest said.”
Dad nodded and we shot out from behind the vase, startling the gold feathers. We didn’t wait to see if they’d recover. We flew at top speed out of the throne room. I couldn’t hear them. I had to assume they were hard on our heels. Dad was next to me, his face flushed with beads of sweat rolling backward toward his ears. I pointed to a cluster of humans in the living room and we went for them, weaving between their legs. I looked back. The gold feathers weren’t there, but Maxime was a body length behind. I flew between a purse and a leg, around the piano and out into the dining room. I didn’t know where Dad was, but Maxime stayed on me. Enough. I concentrated on a man’s leg as he exited the dining room. Timing is everything. His hand was loose next to his leg. I flew between. At the exact same second, I ignited a spark inside his pant leg. I was through. The hand smacked the leg, just catching my boot. I spun out of control into a little girl’s forehead and bounced off. I turned around to see the man lift his hand and Maxime tumble to the floor.
Gotcha!
“Fairy,” said the little girl behind me and I turned back to her to find myself locked in her gaze. A thrill went through me. Being seen never gets old. Even when you’re being seen by a four-year-old.
“I see a fairy, Mama,” said the girl.
Her mother patted her on the head. “Belinda, you are the cutest thing.”
“Belinda,” I said. “I need help. Bad guys are chasing me. Can you hide me?”
She nodded, her wispy blond curls swaying around her pink cheeks.
“Hold your hand like this.” I cupped my hand against my stomach and Belinda imitated me. I flew into her hand and landed so I could see over her index finger. I was worried about slipping, but her fingers were sticky and smelled like Cheerios and yogurt.
I scanned the room for Dad and saw a flash of his wings circling a potted palm with three brown wings in close pursuit.
“Dad!”
He didn’t hear me.
“Dad!”
The brown wings were gaining. One had his foot almost within reach.
“Bad guys.” Belinda charged across the room and swatted the palm. Her aim wasn’t the greatest. She hit both Dad and the brown wings. They all spun off out of control, hitting legs and then the floor. Belinda ran after the brown wings and tried to stomp all them. They dodged her sparkly tennis shoes like frantic cockroaches.
“Bad guys!” she yelled.
“Dad!” I yelled.
He’d landed two feet from the brown wings and staggered to his feet, rubbing his head. If he didn’t move, there was a good chance Belinda would stomp him, too. The little human was a stomping machine. Her feet moved so fast, the brown wings couldn’t get airborne.
“Dad! Over here!”
He saw me in Belinda’s hand and his mouth fell open.
“Come on!”
He flew to me and hovered over Belinda’s hand. “What are you doing?”
“Escaping! Get in here!”
Dad looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do. The hand was jumping around with every stomp and it wouldn’t be an easy landing. Dad darted in, bounced off Belinda’s chest, and tumbled down to her pinky finger.
Belinda’s mom ran over and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
“Bugs,” I yelled. “You saw bugs!”
“I saw bugs!” yelled Belinda, still stomping.
“Stop it. Why are you yelling?” Her mother jerked her backwards and the brown wings flew away. Their flight curved through the air in weird semicircles like they’d hit their heads, eventually regrouping by a table leg. They started scanning the room again. I ducked down.
“Matilda, they saw you,” said Dad.
“Bad guys!” yelled Belinda.
“What are you talking about?” asked her mother.
“Run, Belinda!” I yelled.
The little girl wrenched her hand from her mother’s and ran at her top speed through the rest of the Napoleon III apartment. She was pretty fast for a four-year-old and being small was to her advantage. She slipped past tourists crowded in adjoining rooms and out to the stairs.
“Where are they?” I jumped up onto her finger.
Belinda turned back to the apartment entrance. The brown wings flew in formation, weaving around furniture.
Please go to the humans.
They saw me and put on speed. A human stepped in front of them. I could see them through the legs. I concentrated. Just a little zap. They flew between the legs. The human screeched and slammed his legs together.
“What the heck!” The man danced around. His legs parted. The brown wings peeled off his pants and fell to the floor.
Belinda’s mom raced past the man and scooped her up. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared me to death.”
Belinda held back from her mom, so we managed to fly out of her hand before it flattened against her mother’s chest. We hovered just beyond her little nose and I darted in to touch the tip, like I did with Tess.
“You saved us. You’re a hero.”
She grinned, showing me her little white teeth.
“But be careful. There are bad guys here in Paris that would hurt you because you see fairies.” I held my finger to my lips. “Now that you see us, our magic will always be with you.”
Belinda’s mom carried her back into the Napoleon III apartment. Belinda waved to us until they disappeared into the crowd.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
RAINDROPS SPATTERED THE Louvre courtyard. Humans opened umbrellas and left the long line from the glass pyramid. Dad and I watched from just inside the doors. Rain is terrible for flying. One big drop can knock a fairy out. We’d have to find an umbrella and fast. The sea serpents weren’t crawling over the door and it was a good time to get away.
“I didn’t realize humans hated rain so much,” said Dad as three ran out of the line, yelling.
“Me, either. It can’t hurt them,” I said.
A French police officer shouted at the crowd. People scattered. Some tried to push their way into the doors, elbowing and shoving each other.
“What is going on?” asked Dad. “It’s just a little rain.”<
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“It’s not the rain.” I pointed to a man running by. He held his hand tight to his chest. He had a bloody bite on the meaty part.
“Sea serpents,” said Dad.
“Or dragons.” I didn’t see any dragons, though. Since they were flyers, they probably didn’t like the rain anymore than we did.
“There’s a good umbrella.”
A young couple put up a black umbrella, big enough for an entire family, and were heading away from the glass pyramid. Dad and I flew for it, dodging raindrops and screaming humans. The humans were harder. I almost ended up in a mouth before I was able to get out of the way. I landed hard on the woman’s shoulder and collapsed. My leg throbbed and my ankle felt three sizes too big.
“Matilda,” said Dad. “What’s wrong?”
“Leg hurts.”
He sat beside me and we watched the anarchy with the smell of wet shampoo in our noses. It was sea serpents alright. They ran through the crowd like crazed animals, which I guess they kind of were. I saw a blue one bite a woman’s ankle for no reason. Sea serpents probably never needed a reason, but it was bizarre to watch them slithering around, snarling and gnashing their teeth. More cops ran in. Since they couldn’t see the sea serpents, they ran around yelling and making no impression on anyone. I guess cops aren’t that intimidating, if you’ve got a serpent gnawing on your ankle.
The couple with the umbrella left the courtyard and turned right towards the Rue de Rivoli. We couldn’t see the metro sign through the sheets of rain, but the humans found it and dashed down into the dry recesses.
“We need a map,” said Dad.
I found one on a big sign next to the ticket kiosk. Dad and I shivered in the damp air while tracing the lines back to the apartment.
“I hope your mother and Horc got home okay,” said Dad.
I didn’t answer and pretended to be counting stops. I was the one who sent them on without us. If they didn’t make it…
A train came to a halt and the doors opened. Above the crush of humans exiting the train, a small formation of the king’s guard flew out. I was so cold and tired, I didn’t move fast enough and they saw us. I tugged my wet dress over my sword and hoped they wouldn’t see the pommel under my arm.
“Finally,” said Dad. “The authorities. We have to tell them about the Louvre.”
“We’re not telling them anything. They shot civilians. Lrag and Bentha could’ve died.”
“Oh, right,” said Dad. “This just gets better and better.”
The guards rushed over and began yelling at us in French. I was so tired, I almost yelled back. Instead, we went though the whole “We are Americans” thing again.
“What are you doing here?” one guard asked.
“We’re tourists. We just came from the Louvre,” said Dad.
“You’re no tourists. You’ve been beat up.” He turned to the other guards. “They are collaborators. Bring the rope.”
“That’s not necessary,” said Dad. “We didn’t do anything.”
Well…
“I arrest you in the name of the king. You will be tried and punished for your crimes.”
Two guards flew forward with ropes. Not cotton. Crap.
“What crimes? We didn’t do anything.” Dad’s somewhat calm voice went to outraged.
“And I suppose she’s carrying that sword for fun,” said the guard.
Dad stuttered and I put my hand on the pommel. I wished I’d left it. No. It was too valuable. How would I ever get another sea serpent scale? Wait. Sea serpents.
I let out a wail and clutched Dad’s arm. “I want to go home.” Dad stared at me, like he’d never seen me before in his life. “I hate sea serpents.”
“Sea serpents? Where did you see them?” asked the guard.
“At the Louvre. No one said anything about sea serpents when we got here. They’re a nightmare,” I wailed again.
“What happened?”
“They’re chasing humans at the Louvre and biting them. How do you think we got beat up?” said Dad. “Can’t you do something about those creatures? They’re totally out of control.”
The guard shouted for the rest of them to form up into attack stance. One asked about us and the leader waved us away. They left the metro without another glance at us and we got into the next train before they could change their minds.
The rain stopped by the time we got to the apartment. No humans were going in or out, so we flew up to Tess’s window. I was about to knock when Dad stopped me. He pulled me to the side of the window and said, “I don’t want to tell your mother about this.”
“What part?” I asked.
“All of it.”
“Really?” I wasn’t exactly thrilled to tell Mom I changed my nail polish much less that we’d almost gotten killed and arrested, but I wanted to know why Dad wanted to stay silent. He was more the honesty-is-the-best-policy type.
“I have to think about it,” he said.
“What’s to think about? We’re alive. She should be happy about that.”
“It’s not that. If I tell her what went down in the throne room, she’ll know about you.”
“What, that I’m a kindler? Hello, she already knows.”
“That you’re more than that. I have to tell her in my own way. Just be quiet about it. Okay?”
I nodded, but I didn’t get it. “So you’re going to lie to Mom?”
“I’m waiting. I have to figure out how to tell her that you lied to us.”
“When did I lie?” I was sure I did lie, but it was better to know exactly which lie he was talking about.
“You didn’t tell us what really happened at Notre Dame. Iris was very close to dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that. I figured you’d rather not know.”
“We’re your parents. We had a right to know,” said Dad with a frown. A serious frown that I would have to get used to, because it wouldn’t go away for a long time.
“Are you happier now?”
“You have to stop making those kinds of decisions.”
My palms tingled. They didn’t usually and it was disconcerting. He wasn’t the enemy, was he? “Oh, yeah. When do I get to make decisions? Only when someone’s going to kill you? You were okay with it then.”
Dad rubbed his forehead. “I have to figure this out. You’re still a child.”
“You still think that. Get a grip. If I’m such a child, how come I notice things you don’t?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re covered in blood. Mom’s gonna notice. You will have to lie.”
“We’ll go to another window and wash it off before we see her,” said Dad and he was pretty confident about it, too. I almost felt bad that I had to point out the obvious. Almost, but not quite.
“You have a huge egg on your forehead from when the gold feathers rammed you into the floor. You gonna wash that off?”
Dad felt the lump and his frown deepened until he had creases on his forehead. “How bad is it?”
“It looks like you’re growing a horn.”
“Great. Let’s go to Judd’s room. Ice might help.”
We flew down the row of windows to Judd’s room and cupped our hands to the glass. He slept in the midst of books and dirty clothing with his mouth hanging open. Dad and I pounded on the window, but there was no way he could hear us over the sound of his own snores.
“Maybe Marie is still here,” said Dad.
“Maybe, but if we knock on the living room window, Mom might see us.”
We started pounding again until our hands hurt. Then I saw a face poke out from under Mauprat. “The Marfisis are home.” We waved and pounded until they crept out and stood on the shelf, looking fearful and somewhat confused. We motioned for them to wake Judd and after an irritatingly long discussion, they did and then flew back to their hiding place.
Judd yawned as he opened the window. “What are you doing out there?”
“Are Adele and Horc here?” asked Dad.
“We will,” said Dad. “Do you have any water?”
Judd brought his water glass over with a couple of fairy-sized cups he’d taken to keeping in his room for us. Dad dipped out cups of water and we washed off the blood spatter on our arms.
“You don’t look so good,” said Judd. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“We ran into some problems,” I said.
“Did you find the vermillion?”
I didn’t answer because behind Judd the Marfisis had crept back out on the shelf. At the mention of the vermillion they began having another discussion. Mrs. Marfisi was telling her husband something and he wasn’t having any of it.
“Well,” said Judd.
“Don’t say anything, Matilda,” said Dad, inclining his head to the Marfisis.
Judd leaned down and whispered. “I think they know something.”
“Me, too.” I waved to them. “We could use some help!”
“Matilda!” cried Dad.
“Oh, no. I made a decision. You’re really going to have to give me better guidelines,” I said.
“You need some sense. They can’t see us like this.”
“They’ve already seen us. Better to control the damage.” I waved again.
The Marfisis flew over reluctantly and landed on the sill, wearing clothes that looked like they ought to be at a grand ball. Mr. Marfisi wore sharp tailored pants and a smoking jacket and Mrs. Marfisi wore a green silk dress with matching shoes. I couldn’t stop looking at those shoes. Crystals covered the toes in a paisley pattern and they laced up with navy ribbons. Mom’s wedding dress hadn’t been that fancy.
“What can we do for you?” asked Mr. Marfisi.
He didn’t get too close and kept eyeing the blood still dotting our clothing.
“Can you help us get this off?” I asked.
“Certainly.” Mrs. Marfisi got out a handkerchief with the initials MTB stitched in gold on it. Not her initials, but definitely a woman’s handkerchief. She dabbed it in the water and scrubbed Dad’s bloodstains. They flaked off and the remaining faded with a bit of elbow grease.