by Sarah Zettel
Think carefully before you reject us, granddaughter. Your uncle, when he finds you, will not be so forgiving.
She was gone, and I was back to shaking. I pressed both hands on the counter and leaned against them, hard. My stomach tried to be sick for the second time that day. I swallowed, and swallowed again. I closed my eyes like I thought that would help. But nothing would help now. They’d found me. My grandparents knew where I was, and they could reach into my head and see what I was thinking. How would I ever hide from them again?
But that wasn’t what was really setting its hooks into me. What was really bad was that Shake was the only person who could possibly help me fight off my grandparents if they took it into their heads to come and get me. But I’d sent him to sleep in the betwixt and between, and there was no way I could imagine him waking up in a good mood.
I made myself straighten up and ran both hands over my hair. The only reflection in the window now was mine, too pale, thin, and confused, without even a trace of magic silver in my eyes. I needed to get Jack. Right now. This changed everything, and we had to figure out what to do.
As calm as I could, I walked out into the empty dining room. “Jack?”
“Tully sent him home!” snapped Ivy. “When she knows we’ve got plenty of room!”
I followed her voice into the living room. But Jack wasn’t there either. Just Ivy, Mrs. Brownlow, and Mrs. Tully. Ivy and Mrs. Tully were all but nose to nose, staring each other down. Mrs. Brownlow sat on the couch, her hands clasped and her forehead wrinkled in concentration.
“We are not having a strange young man staying overnight here!” Mrs. Tully said firmly. “What would happen to your reputation?”
Ivy let out a little scream through clenched teeth, stomped her foot, and then let a tear trickle down her cheek.
Mrs. Tully didn’t budge an inch. “I’m sure your mother agrees with me. Don’t you, Mrs. Brownlow?”
Mrs. Brownlow made a fluttery gesture. Whatever she was reaching for, it wasn’t there, and her hand fell back into her lap. “Yes, of course. We can’t let strangers in. They might take my daughter away.”
That’s when I felt the pressure against my mind. It wasn’t just tension. Magic swelled in that room, like air inside a balloon. I clapped my hand over my mouth and swallowed again. I’d known something was wrong in this house, and now I knew what it was. The Seelies weren’t just waiting out there on the back lot. They were in here with me. Except I couldn’t tell who the fairy in here was. There was no direction to the magic I felt now, and I didn’t dare open myself up to it or I’d give myself away.
Ivy gave another wordless, closed-mouth scream and rushed out of the room. The magic rushed away, as if the balloon had suddenly popped. Mrs. Tully straightened, satisfied.
“Come along, Mrs. Brownlow.” She put her arm under Mrs. Brownlow’s elbow and lifted her up. “Time to get you to bed.”
“Yes, of course,” replied Mrs. Brownlow. “I was just saying so, wasn’t I?”
Tully murmured her agreement. She looked back at me over the rims of her heavy glasses. In the dim light of the living room, her eyes looked like black holes in her head. I couldn’t tell whether they were human. I couldn’t tell anything. “Do you have something to say, Miss Callie?” Tully asked.
“No, ma’am,” I whispered.
“Then I’m sure you should be getting yourself to bed too.” It was anything but a suggestion.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tully steered Mrs. Brownlow toward the broad staircase. I watched them leave, and felt the remains of the magic brush past my skin and escape into the garden. I wished I could follow it.
Instead, I hurried through the kitchen and up the back stairs to the second floor, then up the attic stairs. As I put my hand on the light switch, a shadow moved in the corner. I jumped and stuffed my fist in my mouth to smother the scream.
But it was Jack, stepping into the light where I could see him, with his hands out. My bones went soft as Jell-O on a hot day.
“Tully said she sent you home,” I said stupidly.
“She did.” Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets and let his eyes go all wide and innocent. “And I went. But I came back to tell her the lock on their back door’s busted.”
I blinked. “That’s not safe,” I said seriously as I switched on the lamp. “Anybody could just walk in.”
“All the way up those old servants’ stairs. I mean, just think about it.”
We held steady for another half second before the tickle of laughter inside got too strong. It was a long time before we were able to stop giggling and shushing each other.
“I wanted … I wanted to make sure you were okay,” said Jack when he had his breath back. “You weren’t looking too good at dinner.”
The leftover giggles were gone just like that. I dropped onto the edge of the bed. “Jack, we are in big trouble.” I paused. “And I think Ivy is too.”
I told him what had happened to me that day: that I’d been taken betwixt and between by my uncle, who’d tried to railroad me into going into the Unseelie country with him; how I’d put Lorcan to sleep and left him behind there; how my grandmother had chased down my wishing; how I’d gone into the living room and found Tully, Ivy, and Mrs. Brownlow in the middle of a cloud of magic.
By the time I was finished, Jack was sitting beside me, and he was so pale, his freckles stood out like dots of ink on his skin.
“Yeah,” he croaked. “I think that qualifies as trouble.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Jack’s face twisted up, and his mouth worked itself back and forth a few times, like he had to say something really unpleasant. “Could … could Ivy be a fairy? Maybe she’s an Unseelie being kidnapped by the Seelie court, like they took your pop?”
“If she’s Unseelie, what was she doing letting herself get hauled off without fighting back?” I shook my head and then tried not to hear the sigh of relief that rushed out of him. “And Ruth Markham didn’t have any kind of magic around her. I’m positive,” I added, before he could ask.
“So that leaves Tully,” said Jack. Ivy Bright was pretty and talented and famous. She was just the sort of person the Seelies would love to get hold of, and Tully ran her house. Tully could have opened the door for Ruth and ordered Ivy to go with her. She could be magicking Mrs. Brownlow into a half dream to keep her from noticing what was going on.
There was something else too. Fairies could disguise everything about themselves anytime they wanted, except for their eyes. But their eyes they could cover up, say, with the sagging brim of a battered hat. Or a thick pair of glasses.
“Except the Seelies from yesterday were trying to catch Mr. Robeson,” I reminded Jack, and myself. “Ivy was just the bait. If they’d been planning to take her away, why bother with trying to trap him too?” Could Amerda and Rougarou be that greedy? I shook my head again. The scene we’d stumbled into with Amerda and Rougarou had never really added up. The problem was, the more we learned, the less sense I could find in it.
“And what about Mrs. Brownlow?” I said out loud. “What if the scatterbrain bit’s all an act? She could have handed Ivy over to Miss Markham, and who would have said anything?” There was definitely something not right about Olive Brownlow’s eyes. I’d thought they were just vague and cloudy, but I hadn’t taken any kind of a good look. There was another possibility. Mrs. Brownlow could be a half-blood like me, with just a little fairy shining out through her otherwise human eyes.
Jack and I sat there for a long time, searching for something useful to say and coming up with a great big goose egg. If I opened my own magic, we’d know more. But I’d also be waving a red flag and shouting, “Here I am!” And then what? I had no idea how many Seelies were nearby, or Unseelies either.
“You look beat,” said Jack finally. “You should try to get some sleep.”
I was beat. Too much had happened. My head felt overstuffed with worry. “I can’t. What if my grandparents are on the way
?”
“But they said this place was warded and they couldn’t get in,” Jack reminded me. “Looks like the Seelies are good for something after all.”
“Something.” I gave him a small smile and stood up. “You should probably get out of here before Tully catches you.”
“What’re you, cracked? There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone.” He pulled the coverlet off the little white bed and grabbed up one of the pillows. “Dibs on the bathtub.”
It turned out there was even a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet. Jack bedded down in the big claw-foot tub, pulled the coverlet over his head, and was asleep within minutes. Like always. They had yet to invent the place where Jack Holland couldn’t find forty winks.
I lay awake for a long time in that comfortable bed listening to him snore and thinking about all the bad feelings I’d been nursing all day, none of which Jack deserved. Was Tully right? Could I really be jealous?
Could I be falling in love with Jack Holland?
I knotted my fingers into the crisp linen sheet. I told myself there’d be time to figure that out later. What was important now was getting through the night, which meant lying low and waiting it out. We could do that. We’d done it before. Come morning, we could figure out how to get not only ourselves but the brightest little star in Hollywood out of this messed-up house. Everything else would just have to wait … again. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Dear Mama, I thought toward the darkness. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.
13
I My Loved Ones’
Watch Am Keeping
Little niece.
The warmth of sleep cradled me close. One thought, then another, rolled under its dark quilt, but they didn’t mean anything. An image drifted past in lazy, tumbleweed fashion. I didn’t need to worry about that either.
Little niece. Little niece.
Who was calling me? I tried burrowing deeper under my covers, but it was no good. Something crawled right into the place where I was dreaming. Eyes opened underneath sleep’s darkness, shining up at me: one amber and starlight, one milk white.
I knew you’d be back, said Lorcan.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I struggled, but I had no sense of direction that would allow me to flee. The only things in existence were my uncle and me.
What are you doing here? I forced the words out of my confusion and anger.
I’m your prisoner, niece, Lorcan reminded me in a tone that was grim and gleeful at the same time. You put your sleep onto me, and then you came into sleep yourself. Did you think you wouldn’t find me here?
No, I hadn’t thought it. Not even once.
Well, you should have. His grin flashed out from the enveloping dark. His missing teeth made him look like a Cheshire cat who’d gotten in a barroom fight. You know by now there’re consequences to every enchantment.
I tried to feel a way out, but slowly I had to admit there wasn’t any. My uncle wasn’t holding me here; I was holding him. If I wanted to get away, I’d have to let him go free.
You’ve got plans, niece. Shake loomed over me. I still couldn’t see anything but his eyes and his teeth, but I could feel the cold of him. He was weak, broken, but that didn’t stop him from being dangerous, and way too close for comfort. They’re bad ideas, bad ideas.
How do you know?
Lorcan didn’t even bother to answer. Of course he knew. I’d been asleep for hours, and he’d been here with me, watching my dreams and drifting thoughts like they were movies on the screen.
You should be afraid, niece. The Seelie king will catch you. He’ll lock you up tight and draw your powers out of you, and there won’t be one damn thing you can do about it.
Shows what you know, I shot back. I’d been running scared for what seemed like forever, and I was getting plenty tired of it. You couldn’t hold on to me. The Midnight Throne couldn’t hold on to me. There’s no way the Seelies are worse than all of you.
Is that what you think? Maybe you should look here.
The darkness opened up. There was light all around me, and the sound of voices and laughter. I didn’t want to see any of it, but I had no choice. You don’t get to close your eyes in a bad dream.
I saw a long, grand room, all carved wood and stone with huge tapestries covering the walls. It could have been a king’s palace out of the movies. The night outside had turned the arched windows black. Men and women, all of them beautiful, most of them famous, filled the place, holding drinks and cigarettes. Smoke formed spiraling clouds over their heads as they gestured dramatically. Their jewelry and their clothing sparkled in the light of chandeliers and candles. They talked and laughed easily with each other, and a few were none too steady on their feet from the champagne the waiters kept pouring into their big glasses. One man towered above the rest of them. He was built like a mountain and had a mustache that drooped down over his upper lip. I could tell in that way you can in dreams that this was his house. It was his pride and joy and it wasn’t even done yet. It was growing, and he had plans. Great plans, and they’d come true soon enough. He’d always backed winners, and he was doing it now.
The mustached man raised his glass and clinked a fork against it. “My friends! My friends!” he called. The conversation and laughter faded away as the crowd turned to face him. “As you know, I’ve brought tonight’s entertainment here to the Enchanted Castle at considerable personal expense and not a little bit of trouble. And I know you’ve come to look forward to their special performances as much as I have. So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the royalty of the minstrel shows, Rags and Patches!”
Two servants threw the doors open, and there, wearing a baggy black-and-yellow checkered suit, stood my father.
I knew it was him. I would have known even if I’d been awake seeing him with daytime eyes. I knew it now, despite the fact that they’d made him up. He was a tall, lean brown man. It was hard to tell the exact shade of his skin, because somebody’d smeared black gunk all over his face and given his mouth a bright red clown outline. But they couldn’t disguise his eyes. My father’s eyes were the gray and black of moonlight and midnight, and swirled with the fairy light. They were my eyes when the magic shone out from me.
My father, the prince of the Unseelies, shook his boater hat like a tambourine, while he rolled those eyes and grinned a big, wide, stupid grin.
All the beautiful, famous people laughed and applauded or raised their champagne glasses. Papa bugged his eyes out, like he couldn’t believe he was seeing all these people waiting for him. The mustached man waved toward the musicians, and they struck up a jangly tune, all banjo and honky-tonk piano.
At the sound of the music, Papa gave an openmouthed grin and began to dance. He kicked up high and came down lightly. He high-kicked his way into the hall, leaning back so far he should have fallen over.
“I’s gwine ta go down sout’ for ta see mah Sal,” Papa gurgled, shaking his yellow-gloved hands and hat as he strutted down the hall. The people laughed and they clapped.
“Singin’ polly-wolly-doodle all de day!
Mah Sal, she is a spunky gal!
Singin’ polly-wolly-doodle all de day!”
All at once, his feet shot out from under him. He flailed his arms but toppled over anyway and landed hard on his backside, blinking and staring.
The laughter redoubled. “Careful there, Sambo!” someone shouted.
“He’s not going to get anywhere like that!” cried somebody else.
Now do you see? Shake was at my shoulder, whispering into my thoughts. This is what they can do to one of us. He is of royal stock, and they’ve made him into their clown and slave. What do you think they will do to you, with your ignorance and your human weakness?
Get out of my head!
Then let me go. Oh, but you can’t, can you? You don’t know what I’ll do next. He grinned over me. We’re stuck here together, you and I.
Papa had jumped to his feet and was
looking all around him like a cat chasing its tail. “Who done dat? Who throwed dat banana peel down dere?”
But there was nothing to find, just more sharp, cruel laughter. It was still rolling through the hall when a woman’s voice called from the doorway. “Yoo-hoo!”
The voice was too high and way too sugary, but I still recognized it immediately. I should. I’d heard it all my life. Papa knew it too. He jerked around, his grin growing wider and his eyes rolling huge and white. “Oh, it’s you, mah sweetheart!”
They’d put Mama in a costume too. She was a ballet dancer, but her tattered tutu and white stockings had been patched with brightly colored calico. Her face was made up like a china doll’s, all white with pink circles and a pink mouth. Her hair had been teased out and ratted so it stood in a ragged cloud around her face. She didn’t dance in on pointe like a real ballerina, though. She clumped flat-footed, kicking up and stomping down, with her arms bent so her hands framed her face like she was shocked or afraid.
“Oh, mah sweetheart!” Papa went down on one knee and held his arms out. “Come give me yo’ kiss!”
Mama’s head jerked around and down. She stomped over to him, her torn toe shoes flapping on the stone floor. Her arm lashed out, and she delivered a ringing slap across Papa’s cheek. He staggered back, put his hand to the place where she’d hit him, and sighed happily.
The crowd howled with laughter.
How can they be doing this? Shake didn’t answer me. I couldn’t even feel him anymore. What I could feel was the whole tortured web of magic winding around my parents. Strings of enchantment tied them tightly—their wrists and ankles, the corners of their mouths, their eyelids, their tongues. The strings forced them to move like marionettes. They forced Mama to clomp clumsily about the stage, a dreadful parody of a dancing doll, tripping Papa, kicking him in the pants, dumping a drink over his head.