As always, Sister Mary Agnes left the book open to that page and laid it in Brigit’s lap.
Brigit traced Maire’s beautiful face with her fingertips, blinking tiredly. “Do you think she really was my mother?”
Mary Agnes sighed. “I only know what I know, child. Father Anthony found you and another tiny girl sleeping at the altar one morning. And each of you had a book just like this one. Yours with the name Brigit inside, and the other with the name of Bridin. And tucked into a little pocket sewn within each cover, was a pendant for each of you.”
Brigit fingered the necklace she never took off. A dainty pewter fairy, embracing a long, narrow crystal, with points at both ends.
“The note Father Anthony found beside you said simply, ‘My time on this earth is ending. Please, take care of my girls. Jonathon.’”
“And what happened to Bridin?” Brigit knew, but asked again anyway. Sister’s tales seemed more real when Brigit made her tell them right to the end.
“Bridin was adopted right away, darling. But you’d taken ill, and were in no condition to go with her. One day, though, you’ll find a fairytale all your own. One day you’ll have your happily-ever-after.”
“Will I really, Sister Mary Agnes?”
For years Brigit had trusted utterly in the fairytale. She’d had to, because she’d had nothing else. And she adored the woman who told it, knew Sister Mary Agnes would never deliberately lie. But Brigit wasn’t a baby anymore. And the longer she remained here at St. Mary’s, the harder it became to believe in fairies or enchanted kingdoms or...or especially happily-ever-afters. She closed her eyes as Sister’s crinkled palm slipped repeatedly over her hair.
“You will, Brigit. I promise you will. No girl with a gift like yours will be alone for long.”
Brigit frowned, her eyes popping open again. “I have a gift?”
Sister Mary Agnes lifted her head to stare at the picture, and Brigit followed her gaze, still unsure what was so special about it. The rectangle of construction paper hung a little crookedly above the painted white headboard of the bed. Brigit had discovered her knack with a paintbrush for the first time today, when Father Anthony had brought boxes of brushes and paints and paper for the orphans here. Sister Mary Agnes had seemed to think she’d witnessed her first miracle. She’d been a little breathless earlier, when she’d caught Brigit in the act of balancing on a stack of pillows while trying to Scotch tape her painting to the wall. To cover that crack in the plaster.
“Yes, child. Make no mistake, you have a gift.”
“Who from?”
The tears that came into Sister Mary Agnes’s eyes made Brigit frown. Why did she get so choked up over a construction-paper lady? It was just a copy of a picture Brigit had found in an art book. Some lady with two first names. Mona Lucy or something like that.
“From God, Brigit.”
Ah, well, there was no understanding grownups. Even Sister Mary Agnes, though the sister was better than most adults, in Brigit’s estimation. She rolled over, sliding her storybook under her pillow as she did every night, and pulled the worn blanket up over her shoulder.
“You’re a blessing, child. You’ve brought an honest to goodness miracle right here to Maybourne Row. In a shelter nearly falling down around our ears, beside a church with chipped paint and folding chairs instead of pews. A miracle, Brigit.”
But Brigit was tired, and thought Sister Mary Agnes was overreacting a little. Or maybe she sensed that Brigit’s belief in the fairytale was getting shaky, and now she was trying to invent a new one. Give her something else to hang on to. How could a picture be a miracle, anyway?
“Sleep, love. And tomorrow we’ll show your painting to Father Anthony. He’ll know what to do.”
She crossed herself before leaving in a rustle of black fabric.
Only, for Sister Mary Agnes, tomorrow never came.
* * *
Bridin
March 21, 1978 Binghamton, NY 9:00 p.m.
Big guys all dressed in black stood around the lace like sentries guarding a border. One in the hallway outside her rooms. Two outdoors, below her bedroom window. Bridin didn’t mind them. They treated her like gold, being that she still wore her pendant. They didn’t dare do otherwise. If any of those dark ones tried to hurt her—if they so much as touched her—they’d suffer. Die maybe. She couldn’t be sure, since none of them had ever tried. They were afraid of her, those big, dark beings. So the Dark Prince had needed mortals to care for her. Weak ones, whose minds he could control.
The nurse, Kate, of course, had no idea who the guards really were or who they worked for. She simply believed what she’d been told, that Bridin was sickly, and not quite right, and needed constant guarding and protection and care. Her kindness to Bridin didn’t come from fear, the way theirs did. Hers came from her heart. She was good inside. Bridin was surprised the Dark Prince would tolerate her presence.
But he did, and Kate adored her, was constantly trying to please her. Always bringing games and toys for her. Making sure she got to eat the things she liked, and often sneaking in ice cream for dessert. She even rented film reels and a projector now and then, and showed Disney movies on the stark, white wall of her room. But even so, Kate couldn’t see the truth. Despite all Bridin’s efforts to reach her, her mind remained clouded by the Dark Prince’s magic.
They’d let her keep her book. They’d had no choice about that, because it was protected by magic. They couldn’t touch it anymore than they could touch her. Even though poor, confused Uncle Matt still believed it was the book that had driven her insane in the first place.
She wasn’t insane. And she knew that Uncle Matt was no longer thinking for himself. His mind was just as weak as Kate’s had been, that was all. It had been easy for the Dark Prince to take over, so she couldn’t hate her uncle too much. He’d tried to give her a home after her adopted parents had been killed. And really, if she’d only been older and wiser, she would have known better than to make such a fuss when her dreams told her their car accident had been no accident. That the Dark Prince was behind all of it. That he was trying to orchestrate things so that Bridin would never be able to return to Rush. Really dumb of her to blurt all that. But she’d only been eight then. And the visions...the memories had come as a terrible surprise.
She was older and wiser now. Nine. And she knew better than to try to explain her visions to just anyone. Better she not even admit to them, when she could hide it, since doing so only reinforced Uncle Matt's belief in her insanity.
So Uncle Matt went about his business, which took him all over the world, and Bridin rarely saw him. He was convinced he was providing the best possible care for his poor, confused little niece. Convinced by the control the Dark Prince exerted over his mind. As for Bridin, she remained here, a prisoner in her uncle’s home, held captive by forces her uncle didn’ t even believe could exist.
She was wiser now. Wise enough to know she had to bide her time. She’d just stay here until she was old enough to return to Rush. She’d just pretend to have resigned herself to life as an inmate in her own bedroom. At least that way, her enemies would have no reason to take further action. And it wasn’t as if she could leave here, even if she tried. Oh, the others could come and go as they pleased. The unaware mortals could cross through the invisible barrier the Dark Prince had erected around this place, and not even feel it there. And those men in black, the prince’s henchmen brought over from the other side, could pass freely as well. Evil didn’t harm evil. But no fairy could pass. The force of the negativity would crush her. The house that looked to mortal eyes like any other house was in truth a pretty cell to Bridin. But when the time was right, she’d find a way to escape.
She looked across the table at Raze, who’d been sitting in quiet contemplation of the Monopoly board for some time now. Of the handful of mortals in her uncle’s employ, he was the only one not completely blinded by the Dark Prince’s spell. She’d reached Raze, enchanted him, and gradually made
him see the truth.
Who’d have believed the formerly homeless man, the bum who used to sleep in the park across from the orphanage, would turn out to be the strongest of them all?
“Aren’t you gonna shake the dice? It’s your move, you know.”
Razor-Face Malone snapped to attention and ran one hand over his graying stubble. “Sorry.” He scooped up the dice and tossed them. Then promptly moved the boot, which was her token, instead of the race car, which was his.
Bridin covered his hand with hers. “Raze, what’s the matter? I know something is.”
His pale blue eyes met hers. So sad! Bridin felt a shiver go up her spine, but ignored it. Nervously, she fingered her pendant, sliding it back and forth on its thin silver chain.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll tell you. I have to, sooner or later. Bridey...” He looked straight into her eyes. “I’m leaving. They’re sending me away, tonight.”
She felt her eyes widen, felt them burn. “Leaving?”
He nodded, looking as upset by this as she was.
“But Raze, you can’t! Where will you go? What will you do?”
He smiled, to reassure her, she knew. “Just like you to worry more about old Raze than yourself,” he told her. “I’ll manage. I got by just fine before, and I can do it again.”
Swallowing her tears, Bridin brought her chin up, forced a smile. Tried not to think about Raze returning to the life he’d led before he’d been brought here. A lonely man scraping a living from the streets. He was older now. He’d never survive that way again. “Well,” she whispered. “It was only a matter of time before they wised up. I should have been expecting this.”
“Yeah.” He put the boot back where it had been, and moved his race car.
“Are you in danger, Raze? Do you think he knows your mind isn’t his anymore?”
Raze gnawed his lower lip for a moment. “I think he suspects that his hold on me is slipping. I think he believes he’s getting rid of me before you have a chance to get through.” He met her eyes, gave his head a shake. “But you did, Bridey. I know the truth. I won’t let him brainwash me again.”
“I know.”
Raze reached a hand across the table, covered hers with it. “I’d rather be shot than leave you. You know that. I’d stay if I could.”
“I know that, too.” Bridin would not cry in front of Raze.
Though he was like a grandfather to her, he was as much a child as she was—more so, in a lot of ways. She loved him. Crying would only hurt him more, and she refused to do that. “We’ll see each other again,” she told him.
“Sure we will. I’m not going far, you know. I’ll stay close, try to find a way to see you, make sure you’re okay. I just don’t know why he had to catch on.”
Bridin shrugged. “Me neither, Raze. But everything happens for some reason, right? Maybe...” She let her words trail off, and vaguely knew the dice she’d been holding had fallen to the floor. But she wasn’t seeing them. She wasn’t seeing anything that was here or now. Instead, she saw flames. She heard cries. And she knew something she hadn’t known before.
“Bridey? Baby, you okay?” Raze was there on her side of the table now, gripping her shoulders. She ought to be smelling the minty ointment he used for his achy joints, but she was smelling smoke instead. Raze yelled for Kate, but she barely heard that beyond the roaring and crackling of the flames, and the screams of the children. She knew she was shaking all over and staring off into space. She felt the sweat trickling down her face, and stinging her eyes. She screamed, very loudly, shrilly, endlessly. And she knew it was her voice, but it didn’t feel as if it was. She felt apart, separate, as the vision unfolded in her mind. Episodes like this one were what had made her uncle question her sanity in the first place, and left him ripe for the subtle influence of the Dark Prince’s power. But she watched the vision, despite her terror of it. She explored its every aspect.
Kate’s gentle hand gripped her arm, and she felt the sharp jab of a needle. It overwhelmed the feeling of that searing heat on her skin. And in a few seconds, the vision faded away.
It was such a silly way to treat people of magic, she thought, as the drug began to fog her mind. She knew it was happening to others, in other places. The mortal world just didn’t understand them, so they locked them up, and labeled them crazy, and tried to medicate their visions away. Made no sense at all.
The nurse was picking her up, but she squirmed, reaching for Raze.
“Please,” she heard him say. “Let me.”
And then she was shifted into his bony arms. Good. She had to talk to him, and she wouldn’t be awake much longer.
“I know the reason,” she whispered, hooking her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.
He stopped walking and looked down at her. Of all the people in the world, Raze was the only one she dared share her visions with. Because he was the only one who no longer discounted them as imaginary. He was the only one she trusted not to report all she said back to the Dark Prince. He’d seen her book, too. He’d told her he thought it was something sacred.
“It’s my sister, Raze. Just like in the story. She’s real. I...wasn’t sure before, but now I know.”
“Another vision?” he asked, and his voice was a low whisper. He started walking again, staying a few steps behind Kate as he carried Bridin from her playroom, through the double doors and into the room where her bed lay waiting.
“She’s in danger,” Bridin rasped. “You have to go to her, Raze. You have to save her. Tonight.”
The old man blinked, but she didn’t see disbelief in his eyes. Only surprise.
“She’s still at the orphanage. St. Mary’s. You remember. There isn’t much time.”
Raze nodded.
“You have to believe me, Raze. It’s real. I know it is.”
One of his hands smoothed her hair. “Now haven’t I always believed you?” His smile reassured her, and she relaxed a little. “I’ll see she’s all right, Bridey. Don’t you worry.”
Bridin’s eyes fell closed, but she popped them open again. “She doesn’t know...about me...and you can’t tell her. Not yet.”
“But—”
“If she tries to come to me now, they’ll get her. They’ll find a way to get her locked up somewhere, like me. They’ll think she remembers, and they’ll do anything to stop her if they believe she might try to go back.”
Raze didn’t ask who “they” were. He knew. Bridin sensed he’d understood everything she’d ever told him. She didn’t know how she’d broken through the Dark Prince’s spell over him, but she was sure she had.
“But what about you, Bridey?”
She sniffed, lifted a hand to stroke his whiskers. He was lowering her into her bed now. She didn’t want to let go of him. But she had to. “Keep her away from me, Raze. It’s me they’re watching. I’m the one they see as a threat right now, not Brigit. We have to keep it that way.”
“But—”
“When the time is right, I’ll know. And I’ll get a message to you both. I’ll send you some kind of sign. I’ll know how to find you. You know I will. I can do it.”
Raze nodded as the nurse came to the other side of the bed to pull the covers over her.
“Poor little thing, always ranting like this,” Kate said softly, her cool palm stroking Bridin’s forehead. “She thinks she’s some kind of fairy, you know.”
And Raze nodded, because he knew it was what was expected of him, and one never knew who might be watching. “I know. It’s a shame.”
“Just when we think she’s coming out of it, another delusional episode,” Kate went on, and she lovingly tucked the covers around Bridin.
“Come on, Raze,” she said when she’d finished. “Time for you to go. Bridey needs to rest.”
Bridin met Raze’s eyes, and nodded. “Go. Go to her. Do it for me.”
He nodded back at her, then turned to Kate. “Be kind to her,” he said, and there was no plea in his v
oice. More like a command. It was very unlike his usual, gentle tone.
“She’s my special angel. Raze. I’ll take good care of her. Go on, now. Mr. Darque is waiting downstairs with your last week’s pay.”
“Darque?” Bridin whispered, her eyes widening a bit, though she was barely awake now. “He’s here?” He, like Uncle Matt, rarely put in an appearance. Bridin knew why. He was busy running the kingdom of Rush. Her kingdom.
Raze turned back to Bridin. “Don’t worry, Bridey,” he whispered. “He can’t hurt you. You know that.”
“I know...”
“If you need me, child . . .”
“I’ll let you know. I promise.” Her eyes fell closed, at last.
* * *
Darque
Razor-Face Malone was gone. Expelled, because his will had been stronger than Darque had realized. Malone had been quietly repelling the spell for some time now, and Darque would have known that, had he been here. The fools he’d left to watch over things should have seen it, sensed it. But of course, they hadn’t.
Maybe the child had got through to Malone. Unlikely, but possible, Darque knew. He probably should have simply killed the old man. Would have...but the child adored him. Killing Malone would only solidify that fairy child’s hatred of him. And that was not the plan. Not at all.
He’d keep her here, his prisoner, until the fight had gone out of her. And then he’d use her. He’d use her to regain control of the kingdom he saw as rightfully his own. The kingdom his family had been banished from a thousand years ago. Banished. Condemned to life in a part of Rush where the sun’s light never ventured. Renamed, even. The family name dropped, out-la wed, forgotten. They’d become the Dark Ones.
Darque stood over the bed of the sleeping child, and looked down at her. He shouldn’t do so. It was unwise, because looking at her beautiful, innocent face might soften his heart, and he could not afford to allow that to happen.
Fairytale (Fairies of Rush) Page 2