by Nina Smith
“Of course she will. She’s grown up around humans. They don’t believe in anything except science.” Hippy made a face to show what she thought of science, picked up a broom and began to sweep Moon Trooper dust off the floor.
Nikifor watched her work. “Vamps,” he said, almost under his breath.
“Yes, vamps.” Hippy swept the dust into a pile and then emptied it into a bin before directing a glare at him. “You and I have fought enough of them, I should think you’d know one when you see one. What are you doing bringing vamps into my house?”
Nikifor collapsed onto the nearest chair and dropped his head in his hands. She was right. He should have admitted to himself what the Moon Troopers were years ago, but he hadn’t. Nobody had. The implications sickened him, because the Moon Troopers were the strong arm of the Guild, and the Guild had been set up by the king himself.
There was a step in the doorway. Hippy uttered a squeal and launched herself into the arms of the person standing there. “Flower!”
Nikifor shifted slightly to watch Flower squeeze Hippy and then gently place her back on the floor.
“Come in, come in, sit down, I can’t believe you two are really here! And look at the state of you, all covered in blood.” Hippy clicked her tongue in disapproval, handed each of them a wet towel and then put a kettle on the stove.
Nikifor and Flower exchanged a glance while the Bloody Fairy rushed about the kitchen, removing blood from the walls and floor and preparing drinks. Flower looked frankly bewildered. She wiped the blood from her face and hands with the towel. “Fitz has taken the Bloomin Fairies to their new home,” she said.
“Thank goodness for that.” Hippy slammed several mugs onto the counter and spooned powder into them. “Horrid noisy creatures, he really should have warned me he was bringing them into my house. Why didn’t you come the normal way? And what are you two doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you both, but there’s only so many times I’m going to be able to convince my dear practical daughter she’s not seen anything out of the ordinary before she starts to think she’s completely nuts and then I’ll have to tell her it’s all real and you know that’ll lead to all kinds of trouble.”
Before either Flower or Nikifor could respond or even get a word in edgewise, Clockwork stomped into the room, sat heavily at the head of the table and scowled. “Well, this is a complete balls up.”
“Oh good, you’re here.” Hippy dropped a kiss on his head. “Make us all a nice coffee would you, dear? I’ll be back in a moment, I want to get those nasty vamps cleaned up.” She picked up her vial of sparkling powder and the broom and hurried out.
Clockwork watched her go. A grin tugged at the edges of his mouth when he looked at Nikifor. “You look better than you did last time I saw you, mate.” He turned to Flower. “You I presume are Flower. Hippy said you’re a friend.” He got up and poured water from the whistling kettle into the cups. Then he took a bottle of amber liquid from a shelf, added a liberal splash to each cup and put them all on the table.
Nikifor wrapped his hands around the warm cup. The mildly intoxicating steam that rose from it soothed his nerves. He watched the man’s heavy, deliberate gestures, hoping for some further trigger to his memory. “I remember you,” he said. “Not how or why, only that I owe you everything.”
Clockwork gave him a cynical look from under heavy eyebrows. “Twenty five years ago I dragged you out of Castle Arch half-dead and left you with the forest people. Wasn’t easy, considering the size of you and the size of me.”
“Castle Arch?” Flower’s voice sharpened. “The home of the king?”
“Yeah, that Arch.” Clockwork stretched, settled himself into a more comfortable position and sipped from his cup. “Nastiest place I ever went to, but it seemed appropriate for a pretender king. I hope he’s still there rotting.”
Flower opened her mouth to argue. Nikifor quickly motioned for her to be silent. She glared daggers at him, but didn’t speak.
“Please tell me what happened there, friend,” Nikifor said.
“You really don’t remember?” Clockwork raked several dreadlocks out of his face.
“I have had a gap in my memory for many years now,” Nikifor said. “If you can help me discover what happened-”
Clockwork shrugged. “All I know is you helped us get out through the killer roses and passed out when we were almost there. Rustam Badora was in pursuit. Hippy jumped off the cart to head him off so we could make it out. I dragged you into the forest, then went off to get help for her.” A shadow crossed his face. “She saved both our lives that day, yours and mine, mate, and she nearly died for it.”
“But I don’t understand,” Flower cut in, her voice strained. “What was Badora doing at Castle Arch? And why didn’t you seek the help of the king?”
One of Clockwork’s eyebrows twitched upward. “Seek his help? He was the one trying to kill us!”
Flower went white. “Surely you’re mistaken! Nikifor was in his care and Hippy, he loved-” she broke off, looking bewildered.
“I wouldn’t be saying things like that in this house.” Clockwork’s voice was even, but his eyes smouldered with hatred so intense both muses flinched.
Hippy walked in, leaned the broom against the wall and shook her vial at Clockwork. “Almost out of fairy dust,” she said. “Do tell Fitz not to bring any more vamps here.”
“I already did.” Clockwork put his arm around Hippy’s waist and drew her into the chair next to him. “Or muses.”
Hippy giggled and patted his arm. “Don’t mind him,” she said.
Nikifor moved ever so slightly further away from her when he saw she still held the vial of fairy dust. Possibly the most toxic substance known to Shadow, and fairies had a tendency to throw it around like salt just because it sparkled and they were immune. “You–you turned all the Moon Troopers to dust?”
“Of course I did.” Hippy took a sip from her cup. “You have to. Here in Dream they ask all sorts of awkward questions and get terribly upset about bodies. It’s the creepiest thing, though, those masks they were wearing–” she glanced at Clockwork. “That’s what Badora was wearing the day I killed him. Almost that exact same mask. What is it, some kind of vamp trend?”
“They’re Moon Troopers.” Flower’s voice was quiet and controlled. Nikifor could give a few good guesses what she was thinking right now, and none of it was particularly comforting. “Members of the Guild’s army. Nobody knows where they came from or what they are, but all Shadow fears them.” She put her face in her hands.
“But they’re just vamps,” Hippy said. “Couldn’t you tell? If it’s tall and creepy and bleeds a lot when you kill it, it’s a vamp. Did someone knock you on the head or something?”
Flower dropped her hands. “But after the war Pierus drove the vampires back into the Darkness where they belonged! Then he set up the Guild to maintain order. I know, I was there in Shadow City helping, how could all this have just happened around me? How could I have spent the last twenty five years not even remembering you and your clan, Hippy Ishtar, tell me that? How did I get it so wrong?”
Hippy gave her a look of mute sympathy. “I don’t know. You left without ever saying goodbye. Chances are the Pretender messed with you before he left. He messed with everyone’s minds, you know.”
“No!” Flower’s fist hit the table. “No, I won’t listen to this slander! My king is good and kind and wise, and could not possibly be responsible for these terrible things! There has to be an explanation. Somebody is holding him prisoner and doing these things in his name. Some imposter has taken his place. Nikifor tell them!”
Hippy and Clockwork turned their incredulous looks from Flower to Nikifor.
Nikifor stared at the scar on his wrist, unable to say a word. He felt sick and more than a little frightened. In his head, the Tormentor loomed over him. Weakness is disloyalty. He saw again the man with his machine. It all made such horrifying sense if he dared to allow himself to believe. He
raised his eyes to Hippy and saw the answer in her face: memories of a shared nightmare, a nightmare that still gripped the edges of his mind, but would not be remembered in the light of day.
“Nikifor.” Flower’s voice rose, insistent. “Please tell them.”
Hippy leaned over and touched the scar on his wrist. “He tortured you.” Her eyes were wide and serious. “He made you do things you would never do, but I understood. I really did, Nikifor, and I forgave you even then. You are so important to the future of Shadow. He knows, that’s why he hates you so much. That’s why he got you addicted to vibe, because he wants you broken.” Her voice grew fierce. “I can see from the way you look at me that he’s hunted you all these years, but you’ve survived. You have to keep surviving. You have to fight him, because the day is coming when you will be the one to defeat him. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, it is your destiny to kill the muse king.”
Flower made an inarticulate, outraged sound. “What are you saying? Nikifor, tell her she’s wrong!”
But the little Bloody Fairy in front of him had him pinned with the nightmare lurking in her dark eyes. “I’ve been hiding in Dream for all these years to protect my daughter from him,” she said. “One day he’ll come for us, and he’ll try to kill her for who she is, just like he wants you dead for who you are. When that day comes, Nikifor, you may well be the only thing to stand between Krysta and her father.”
Nikifor looked, confused, to Clockwork, but there was a little gasp from Flower, who half-rose out of her chair. “So it’s true,” she said. “She’s the daughter of the king!”
Clockwork balled a fist and slammed it into the table. “Enough of this!” His chair scraped back and he got up and went to look out of the window. “She may be his daughter, but I’m her father, and if you-” he pointed at Flower “-so much as breathe a word of her existence to the pretender, I will personally hunt you down and end your sorry life.”
Flower drew herself up, paler than ever. “I would never bring harm to Krysta,” she said. “I have a responsibility to her. I’m her muse.”
Clockwork and Hippy stared at her, speechless.
“And further,” Flower said into the silence, “She needs to write what she wants to write. Every day that she doesn’t something in her is building. It’s already like a volcano. She’s making cracks between Shadow and Dream.”
Hippy pressed a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t, or you wouldn’t have been holding her back!”
“If she writes what she wants to write and publishes it as she intends to, she may well give the pretender a road map to us all.” Clockwork braced himself against the window, talking to them without so much as turning his head. “So you see, Muse, we’re backed into a corner either way.”
Hippy collected up the cups, including Nikifor and Flower’s, which were untouched. “So what do we do?”
“Let me talk to her,” Flower said. “Just once. Of course it’s against the rules, but we seem to have gone way beyond rules. I’m not sure the rules even apply to a non-human.”
Hippy dumped the cups on the sink. “Clockwork is going to take you two out to meet Fitz in the morning. You can see her before you go. Not you though Nikifor, she’s not ready to meet you yet. You should all get some sleep for now.”
“After we meet Fitz I’ll travel with you to Shadow.”
Clockwork turned and leaned against the window. He surveyed them, face grim. “Fitz informed me my clan are prisoners in the mines and you seek to free them. On that I’ll help you.” He walked around the table and clapped Nikifor on the shoulder. “Perhaps Hippy can find you both some fresh clothes before we leave. You look like a pair of giant Freakin Fairies who’ve been left out in the rain for a week.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Flower couldn’t sleep.
She lay on Hippy’s couch wearing a nightdress that was too short for her and covered by a fluffy blanket with a picture of a tiger on it. Nikifor stretched out on a mattress on the floor nearby. She knew from the complete silence that he didn’t sleep either, but she didn’t say anything. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, even if they were terrible company.
None of it made any sense. It simply wasn’t possible the king could have done those evil things. He might have done some very bad things in the past, when he went mad for a time, but that was over. He’d spent years making up for it. He’d aided the Bloody Fairies against the vampires because he wanted to atone, she knew Nikifor would swear to that at least.
But Nikifor’s silence made her nervous. The way he’d looked at Hippy had made her feel cold and shut out and afraid. Those two had shared a terrible experience at the Arch, that much was certain. It was also quite certain Hippy and Clockwork firmly believed everything they said about the king. Something had convinced them he was a villain, and nothing would persuade them otherwise.
Somebody was behind all this. That was all Flower could come up with. Somebody had tortured Nikifor and tried to kill Hippy. Somebody–her eyes widened in the dark. Somebody must have taken Pierus prisoner at the Arch. That was why he’d disappeared. Maybe he was still there, locked away, tortured, in pain. Who, she had no clue. Nobody could be strong enough or evil enough to do such a thing, except perhaps the dreaded vampire king, and he was long dead. But it didn’t matter what awful villain it was, because she would find out, she would help, and she would clear these dreadful slanders on her king’s name.
She breathed out, a long sigh of relief. Finally she knew where to go to find the king. She closed her eyes and slept a dreamless, heavy sleep, because there was no key right now to take her to her writers and artists.
An insistent hand shook Flower’s shoulder. She groaned into her pillow.
“Wake up,” Hippy whispered. “Krysta’s in the kitchen having breakfast. Nikifor’s out helping Clockwork load up the van. Now’s your best chance to talk to her.”
Flower rubbed her eyes, stretched, tried to convince herself to wake up. “Right now?” The question was plaintive.
“Here.” Hippy dumped a pile of clothes in her lap. “You can wear these clothes Krysta’s boyfriend left here. They should fit you. I told her you got mugged last night and your clothes were ruined. It’s close enough to the truth, don’t you think?” She winked and left the room.
Flower dragged herself off the couch and stretched her aching shoulders. She dressed in a pair of pants made from a sturdy blue fabric she thoroughly approved of, even if they were faded at the knees. They were a bare inch too short, but she wasn’t worried about that. The black cotton t-shirt was far more comfortable than the Freakin Fairy tunic had been, and the sturdy canvas jacket would keep out the cold. She combed her fingers through her hair. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of coming face to face with one of her writers for the first time. Sure, she’d spent time with them all, but they’d never been able to see her or talk back. If she got this wrong, all kinds of trouble could come chasing after both her and Krysta.
She headed for the kitchen, but stopped outside the doorway while Krysta spoke to her mother.
“I had the weirdest dream last night. It was so vivid.”
“Did you dear? Was it the giant beetles again?”
“No! No, these tall dudes in ski masks were in the kitchen trying to get me. I whacked one with my hockey stick and then this other guy came in and rescued me. Actually he was kind of spunky, in a weird way. Then you came in and threw glitter on the guys in the masks and they turned to dust.”
“Don’t let Drew hear you calling another guy spunky. You know how he gets.”
They both giggled.
Flower took a deep breath, walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from Krysta.
Krysta ate a piece of toast with one hand. Around the other hand and a good deal of her arm and torso curled a green snake, whose tongued flickered every so often towards her face. She made kissing noises at the snake in betwee
n bites.
“Krysta darling, meet my good friend Flower.” Hippy set a plate of hot buttered toast in front of Flower.
Krysta flicked a curious glance at her. “Hey. Mum told me what happened to you. Bummer.” She took another bite of toast, then offered a piece to the snake.
“Krysta Ishtar how many times have I told you not to feed Sparkles your toast?”
Krysta rolled her eyes. “It’s hardly fair to just eat in front of her. Look, she’s hungry.”
“Then I’ll get her a mouse.” Hippy gently lifted the creature off Krysta’s arm and settled her around her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you like a nice juicy mouse? Much better for you than that nasty piece of toast. Yes it is. There’s a good girl.” She ambled out of the room, chattering to the snake all the way.
Krysta shrugged and returned her attention to her toast. “So how d’you know my mum?”
“We were friends a long time ago. Before you were born.” Flower watched the girl, fascinated, trying to see something of Pierus in her. She looked so much like her mother–apart from the frightfully pink hair, which, Flower supposed, could be artificial–except for the eyes. She had her father’s dark brown eyes. Krysta’s eyes were warm, sharp, curious. Flower had always felt the king’s eyes were flat and cold. How could they being anything else, after the passage of three thousand years? She wondered what it would have been like to know him when he was this young.
She’d been so sure she’d know what to say, but now she was here she didn’t even know what to make of the girl. There’d never been a child of a muse and a fairy, it was unheard of. At twenty five, the average Bloody Fairy woman had at least six kids and several wars to her name. At the same age a muse was barely halfway through adolescence and usually just entering Muse College. One day she would have to learn what it was to be a muse.
“Aren’t you going to eat your toast?”
Flower realised she was staring, and Krysta had paused with a piece of toast halfway to her mouth. She shook herself and started to eat. “I’m sorry. It’s strange for me, the last time I saw your mother she’d just realised she was pregnant, and now here you are, all grown up and older than she was then.”