Keys and Curses (Shadow Book 2)

by Nina Smith

  She gave them all a measuring look. “I want to help.”

  Fitz ran a hand over his beard. “You want to help us do what?”

  “Not you.” Shazza jabbed a finger at Mudface, who was wide-eyed and silent. “I want to help her.”

  Mudface gave Fitz a beseeching look.

  Fitz’s eyebrows drew together. “How?” The word was forbidding.

  Shazza drew her knees up and flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. She fidgeted as though looking for something that was no longer there. Her lower lip trembled with a hint of petulance. “I want to help her print her book. I could make enough copies to flood Shadow City. I can get into the printers like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I used to work in there.”

  Nikifor looked discreetly over at Mudface, whose whole expression was now so hopeful and radiant she seemed quite transformed.

  Fitz’s face sunk into deeper lines. “But why would you want to? And how do you expect us to trust you?”

  Shazza’s eyes narrowed. “Because when I pledged my loyalty to the king, he promised me I’d be important and respected.”

  “The king?” Nikifor asked, startled.

  Flower made a dismissive gesture. “Not our king, Nikifor. Obviously an imposter. Our king would have nothing to do with her kind.”

  Shazza’s expression remained neutral. She only shrugged. “Well, I’m not important and respected, so he lied to me. And now I want more. I want to be famous, and I can be if everyone reads her book, because I’m in it.”

  “Why do you want to be famous?” Fitz, to Nikifor’s surprise, sounded mildly amused. “The kind of fame you’d get from such an action would only draw the attention of the Guild.”

  “Mister, I work for the Guild. And added to that, I can disappear in a puff of smoke. Except when you’re doing your funky whatsits on me. Who’s going to hurt me? Nobody. Except you. Which is why you can trust me. Obviously I’m going to help the person with the most power.”

  Fitz leaned forward. “I am going to hurt you, if you betray us.”

  Shazza’s face lit up. “You’re going to let me do it?”

  “I didn’t say that. We still have to get into the city.”

  “I can get you in.” She cast a sulky look at the wagons ahead. “If you can keep the fairies out of sight.”

  “I still don’t understand why we’re trusting her,” Nikifor said in a low voice.

  It was dark on the road. The faint glow of gaslight flickered behind the blank high walls of Shadow City. The wagons lumbered down the road like giant, silent, tired snails. The mules plodded with their heads down, barely paying attention to Shazza holding their reins. There was no sign or sound of the Bloomin Fairies, because all but two of them were clinging to the underside of the wagons and, to Nikifor’s amazement, were silent except for the occasional faint snore. Fairies would never cease to amaze him.

  The Lord of the Gourd and Pumpkinhead slept in the prison cart. The door was not locked of course, but Fitz had made it look so for appearances sake if they encountered any Moon Troopers. Fitz, Nikifor and Flower walked quietly behind the whole procession, since there was nowhere they could hide anyway.

  “We’re trusting her because we have no other choice,” Fitz replied. “We must get the fairies into Shadow City, and the place I want is right next door to the printing press.”

  “What would you have done had we not met her?” Nikifor asked.

  Fitz shrugged. “I would have found a way. I always do.”

  “In effect, what you’re saying is you’re flying by the seat of your pants. Is this how the Invisible Army always works, or is it only when you make yourself responsible for entire tribes of Bloomin Fairies?” Flower’s voice was mildly acid, but Nikifor thought that was more out of habit than anything else. She hadn’t objected to the plan. In fact, he suspected she was secretly pleased to have talked Shazza into changing sides.

  Fitz’s reply was grave. “If even I don’t know what I’m doing next, then our moves cannot be anticipated or discovered. The Guild has eyes and ears everywhere.”

  It made as much sense as anything else. Nikifor watched the prison cart trundle ahead of them. The mountain of blankets inside barely moved; the Lord of the Gourd was invisible underneath. Pumpkinhead snored. “Are you really going to let her print Mudface’s book?” he whispered.

  Fitz considered this. “Mudface wants it. And actions like that can have unforeseen consequences, some good, some bad. Think of it as a wild card.”

  “But Mudface will be in terrible trouble,” Flower said.

  “Mudface will be safely in Dream before the night is out. They won’t find her.”

  “Will people believe the book?” Nikifor wondered why Flower looked so troubled all of a sudden.

  “That’s the beauty of it,” Fitz said. “Some will. Some won’t. Nobody will be able to prove much of anything, but it’ll be enough to make even those who don’t already doubt the Guild turn on them at the least provocation. Doubt is a weapon we will one day put to good use.”

  The wagons approached the huge stone archway that marked the southern entrance to Shadow City. The blackened, ancient stone weighed down on him. Filthy streets, towering, crowded buildings and tenements, as familiar as the intoxicating first sip of vibe after a long drought. He could almost smell it. The urge to fill the aching void in his ribs with green oblivion was so overwhelming it was all he could do not to break and run.

  Nikifor jolted back to himself. He hadn’t missed a step or given a thing away. Flower’s hands were on her key. She’d just joined the two halves together.

  “Flower!” He clenched his teeth together to swallow the reflexive yell and moved to bar her way.

  “What?” She scowled. “You’re not going to flip out on me now, are you? I thought you were coming good!”

  He took a deep breath to calm himself and tried not to look at the Tormentor behind her shoulder. “The key,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly Nikifor. We’re about to walk into lethal danger and probably be killed by Moon Troopers. This is a perfect opportunity to send some inspiration to my poor humans before I die. They’ve been cut off from me for days now!”

  Nikifor did something he’d never have dared to do if he hadn’t been desperate. He put his hands on her shoulders. “He’s behind you,” he whispered. “Please, Flower.”

  Flower glanced over her shoulder reflexively, then made an irritated noise. “Oh, alright.” She broke her key apart. “I hope you realise you’re responsible for completely upsetting the natural order of inspiration, considering I’m apparently the last muse left alive with a key.”

  Nikifor let out a long, tense breath when the Tormentor disappeared. His presence of mind flooded back. The need for Vibe was just a shadow on the edge of his consciousness as it had been for days, something he could pretend was not there.

  “Halt,” a voice said up ahead.

  “It begins.” Fitz sounded almost pleased.

  They crowded in behind the prison cart. Nikifor prayed that Shazza would not betray them.

  “State your business,” said the voice.

  “Quicksilver shipment.” Shazza sounded sulky. “Do you mind?”

  “Check it.”

  Heavy footsteps marched toward them. Nikifor peered very carefully around Flower’s shoulder. Seven tall figures crowded around the first and second wagons. They lifted up the covers and peered inside.

  “See?” Shazza’s voice was snide. “What’d you think it was going to be, fairy dust?”

  The Moon Troopers ignored the comment. “What’s in the prison cart?”

  “Couple of fairies my sister caught on the way in.” Shazza sounded bored now.

  The Moon Troopers approached. “Move on in. We’ll take charge of the fairies once they’re in the city.” They formed up to march by the silver wagons.

  “As you like.” Shazza clicked her tongue. The mules began to move.

  Nikifor, Flower and Fitz kept low and fol
lowed the cart through the archway, ridiculously exposed. Inside the prison cart Pumpkinhead sat up and looked back at them.

  Fitz put a finger to his lips.

  A bead of sweat trickled from Nikifor’s hair to his mouth, despite the cold. Flower’s fists were clenched. Fitz looked terribly old in the dim light, too old for this kind of adventure. What would happen to them and the fairies if Nikifor failed to protect them all? If he walked into that city and suddenly vibe became more important than any of it?

  The archway stooped like a brooding giant. The city at night embraced him, as familiar as his own breath. Grime crunched under his tattered boots, so thick it made a layer of black over the cobblestones. Grey stone tenements with peaked, crooked rooves reached like claws for the sky, dim lights glowing around the edges of curtained windows. The silent, grimy, dangerous city he’d known for the last twenty five years had always been like this: a melting pot for the outcasts and loners of every tribe. The rambling tenements and big, hulking houses that dominated so many of the crooked streets were the only respite at night. Brooding Pixies, frightened dwarves, muses, Fire Elves, even the occasional fairy, all of them locked and barred their doors and windows and huddled inside, listening for the heavy tread of Moon Trooper boots, the tread that even now preceded them into the city.

  The wagons rolled down the wide main thoroughfare. A slight, furtive shadow, perhaps a Pixie, slid away around the corner of a tenement. Nikifor looked away. Guilt warred with shame. He’d been that kind of shadow, a lost and hopeless drug addict. He’d slept on the streets for months at a time, too despicable a creature for even the Moon Troopers to bother with.

  “Halt!” A rough voice called.

  The wagons rolled to a stop. Shazza’s sulky tones cut the night like a blunt spoon. “But we’re not there yet.”

  “You’ll travel on without the prisoners. All illegal fairies are to be surrendered to the custody of the Guild.”

  “I work for the Guild, genius,” Shazza said.

  Nikifor heard the Moon Trooper mumble something extremely unpleasant about the kind of work Shazza was likely to do while he moved toward the prison cage.

  Pumpkinhead crept forward and wrapped his hands around the bars.

  “Illegal fairies?” Flower mouthed.

  “Wait for it,” Fitz whispered.

  The Moon Trooper stopped at the cage and looked Pumpkinhead up and down. The pale glow of the overhead gas lanterns shone blue on his silver mask. His voice held no hint of emotion. “Try anything, Fairy, and it’ll be the worse for you.” He reached for the lock, then stopped. “You! Muse! Why isn’t this cage locked?”

  Nikifor cringed every bit as hard as Flower at the use of the title for Shazza. It just wasn’t right.

  “I did it,” Pumpkinhead said.

  “You? A likely story.” The mask swung back to the cage and the Moon Trooper yanked on the door.

  Pumpkinhead hung on tight. His bumpy chin jutted in obstinate determination. The Moon Trooper’s brute strength got him nowhere.

  Pumpkinhead let go. The door smacked into the Moon Trooper’s face and knocked him back a full step. An ugly snarl came from behind the mask.

  Pumpkinhead raised his fists and jumped up and down, making the cage rock. “Yeah, come on, weirdo maskhead silver face! You’ll have to fight me to get to the Lord of the Gourd!”

  Fitz groaned. The other Moon Troopers came marching down to see what was happening.

  The pile of blankets trembled and slid aside. The Lord of the Gourd shot to her feet with an agility entirely unexpected for her age and yelled out in a voice that split the entire street. “Bloomin Fairies attack!”

  As if they’d been fired from a cannon, the fairies dropped from under the wagons, swarmed up the sides, then ran straight for the Moon Troopers and leaped onto their backs, six fairies to each trooper.

  “Well,” Fitz said. “So much for doing this quietly.”

  Nikifor seized the axe from its brace and strode around the wagon. A shrill whistle split the street. He knew that sound well. Somewhere nearby was a Moon Trooper with a long, thin silver whistle calling for backup. He’d run from that sound too many times.

  The first Moon Trooper he found had one black glove around Pumpkinhead’s neck. The fairy’s little legs kicked in mid-air. His red hair stood on end, crackling in the electricity of the lightning rod brandished in his face.

  Nikifor buried his axe in the creature’s neck. Blood sprayed over all three of them. Pumpkinhead wriggled out of the Moon Trooper’s grasp, spat blood everywhere and kicked the falling oppressor in the chin. “Bloomin Fairies forever!” he yelled, and charged back into the fray.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Frozen.

  Nikifor shoved knots of Moon Troopers aside with his axe, his fists, even his head, raw violence in action, speed, strength, instinct.

  Flower was frozen.

  Fitz caved a Moon Trooper’s rib cage with one blow from his right hoof. He fought with the grim power and assurance of a man who had spent decades at war, always driving the enemy back, but never for long. Soon he would be overwhelmed.

  She didn’t know why she couldn’t move. She could fight. She’d spent decades holding back vampires at the Bitter Tower, battling them for Bloody Fairy territory, fighting for her king and for Shadow, blood, teeth, fists, iron, whatever it took.

  A Moon Trooper raised a lightning rod high over his head and arced it down towards Carrots, who clung to the edge of a wagon, eyes wide, jaw dropped. Ten Bloomin Fairies dived at the creature’s legs and brought him crashing to the ground.

  For one crazy moment Flower fell back into the Vampire Wars. Darkness thick as mountain fog. Night teeming with fear. A roar, a wave of sound, blood in the air, blood that could shake the earth, the battle cry of the vampire king, a sound that terrified even the warlike, tireless Bloody Fairies.

  She took a firm grip on herself. This was not the time for flashbacks. These weren’t vampires, they were Moon Troopers, and the brawling Bloomin Fairies were nowhere near the disciplined, savage fighting force their cousins the Bloody Fairies had been.

  Flower ran to the prison cage, dragged the Lord of the Gourd, who snoozed on undisturbed, from under the blankets and tucked her securely under one arm.

  The Lord of the Gourd sputtered awake. “What are you doing you now great big giant freakin dead muse!”

  “Moon Troopers everywhere.” Flower dodged a Moon Trooper sent her way by Fitz’s hoof. “We need a diversion so we can get away.”

  A small hand tugged on her elbow. Flower stopped, ready to spit woodchips until she saw it was Mudface.

  Mudface grabbed the Lord of the Gourd’s ear and whispered into it.

  The Lord of the Gourd grunted. “Alright then.” She raised her head and her voice boomed through the night. “Bloomin Fairies! Streets aren’t very shiny!”

  “What?” Exasperated, Flower was about to give both fairies a few sharp words about taking battles seriously when every Bloomin Fairy there gathered into a tight group and rushed the wagons.

  Flower almost choked on her own words. Nikifor was engaged in beating the living daylights out of five Moon Troopers at once right on the other side of those wagons. “Nikifor move!” she screamed.

  “I’m busy!” he roared.

  The fairies hit the wagons with so much force the wood splintered and the whole structure tipped.

  “Move now!”

  Nikifor leaped three feet into the air, kicked a Moon Trooper out of his path and bolted away from the wagons.

  Joints and hinges cracked and squealed. The wagons rocked precariously and crashed onto their sides in slow motion, then exploded into splinters of flying wood, sending a swirling, acrid tide of silver surging into the streets. The swell knocked the Moon Troopers off their feet and slammed them into the tenement walls. Their uniforms sizzled. A mask melted. The quicksilver ate holes into the stone wall, but the Moon Troopers stiffened, a tumbled, graceless mass of statues melted together
for eternity.

  Flower pushed down the wave of horror that rose at the sight. Someone had to keep their head. She caught sight of Shazza watching the whole thing with wide eyes. “Sharon run, now!” she yelled. “You know where we’re going!”

  Shazza didn’t wait to be told twice. She ran.

  “Follow her!” Flower grabbed the nearest fairies by the topknots and shoved them after Shazza. She herded more and more until they all got the idea and stampeded after the false muse. Then she yanked Fitz out of a last ditch punch-up with a surviving Moon Trooper and ran after them, Moon Troopers in hot pursuit. Nikifor’s long strides propelled him to the rear of the group.

  The Bloomin Fairies surged into the city centre hot on Shazza’s heels, their topknots bobbing and their little legs pumping impossibly hard. With the Lord of the Gourd under one arm yelling insults back at the Moon Troopers and shaking a shrivelled fist, it was all Flower could do to keep up with Fitz thundering beside her. The regular jar and crack of Nikifor’s axe breaking Moon Trooper bones right behind her was all that kept that precious distance between them and their pursuers.

  They rounded a corner into a narrow, dark alley. For one terrifying moment Flower thought Shazza had betrayed them after all and led them down a dead end. Then they burst into Shadow Piazza, a huge, central public space where shops and stores had once crowded the edges of a massive stone-paved square with a bubbling fountain in the centre. Once, this space had been beautiful both day and night, always crowded with visitors and locals shopping and exploring Shadow’s most famous city.

  Now it was empty and broken, a gilded skeleton of its former glory. The quaint old shops were boarded over and locked up with padlocks the size of her fist. A huge sign bolted to a boarded-up window bore the words Fairies, Pixies and Fire Elves must register with the Guild.