Keys and Curses (Shadow Book 2)

by Nina Smith

  Shazza reappeared behind them in her usual puff of stale smoke, a bundle of fabric in her hands. “I stole this,” she said, and with no further explanation laid it beside Mudface.

  Mudface barely glanced at it. “Is it pink?”

  Flower untied the brown scarf holding everything together and laid it out flat. Inside she found a pretty white blouse and a black skirt. Laying on top of those was a wooden comb. “Here,” she said, handing Mudface the clothes. “They’re not pink. You’ll feel better wearing these.”

  Mudface clutched the clothes to her chest, went off behind a tree and changed while Flower and Shazza waited in uncomfortable silence.

  When she came back, she dragged her steps and walked with her head down. Flower was shocked to realise she’d grown almost a foot since last night. The long skirt brushed her ankles, not the ground, and the blouse outlined a feminine figure her black rags had done a lot to hide.

  Mudface stopped in front of them, folded her arms and glared at the rocks. “I look like a girl.”

  “You are a girl.” Shazza kicked at the moss with the toe of her boot.

  Flower sighed. “Sweetie this might actually be a good thing. When the Moon Troopers come looking for Mudface the Bloomin Fairy, they won’t be able to find her.”

  “But I still want to be Mudface.” Tears spilled over her eyelashes.

  “I know. Come and sit down and I’ll comb your hair.”

  Mudface looked distrustfully at the comb, but she sat in front of Flower.

  Flower eased the comb through each strand of hair. She was surprised to find Mudface’s hair was long enough to hang past her shoulders, and was quite straight and silky once she’d teased the knots out. And really, really pink. How the fairies kept their dreadful top knots in the first place was a complete mystery to her, not to mention why they were so fond of them.

  Shazza looked her over critically when Flower was done. “Nobody’ll ever mistake you for a Bloomin Fairy now.”

  Flower braced herself for a fresh onslaught of tears, but none came.

  Instead Mudface stood up, brushed herself down and squared her shoulders. She swept the forest with a glance that held equal parts of desolation and anger. She could have passed for a human, what with being five foot tall and having such startling hair. “Fine.” She paused, swallowed hard and clenched her jaw. “I’m not a Bloomin Fairy. That’s what Lord of the Gourd wants, that’s what she’ll get.”

  Shazza raised her eyebrows in a signal she might have been mildly impressed. “Never met a Bloomin Fairy like you.” She sauntered back to the empty road. “Pinky pinky pinky pink!”

  “Sharon,” Flower said, following her. “That’s insensitive.”

  Mudface jumped from the rocks to the mud, holding her skirt out of the way. “It’s okay,” she said. “She’s right. It’s in my book, there’s no way I can avoid it. I have to be-” she paused, and looked revolted “–Pinky now. Mudface-” her lower lip trembled, but she clenched her jaw again and strode determinedly on beside Flower. “Mudface is dead. Properly dead. You call me Pinky now and say I’m a–I’m a–I’m a–well, I don’t know what I am.”

  “I’m sure the king will help you. He’ll know what to do,” Flower said.

  Pinky scowled. “You keep your nasty king away from me or I’ll bite him.” She strode ahead to walk with Shazza.

  Flower sighed and watched them chatting away like best buddies. Soon. Soon, they’d find the king and she’d prove to everyone he was the wise, kind, venerable muse she knew him to be. She closed her hand over her key and concentrated on dodging the muddy potholes.

  They walked for hours without encountering anyone or anything, although at times Flower felt sure they were being watched. Twice she thought she saw movement in the trees, but she couldn’t be sure. She kept her eyes on the road and pretended not to notice. False muses or fetches would have made themselves known pretty quickly. That only left forest people watching intruders pass through their territory, and they would only show themselves if they strayed into the trees. She breathed a sigh of relief they hadn’t been noticed when they did just that earlier in the day.

  Around midday Shazza disappeared for twenty minutes and returned with bread and cheese. Flower wasn’t sure if she wanted to eat something that had been turned into smoke and back again, but she was so hungry she squashed her doubts and sat down on the rocks to picnic with her companions.

  Mudface–Pinky, she reminded herself–sat between her and Shazza, head down, nibbling absently at a chunk of bread. Already threads of pink spread through the black skirt and a pale pink stain seeped out from the white top. These fairy curses were powerful things.

  “Your clothes are going pink,” Shazza remarked, with her usual lack of tact.

  Pinky scowled. “Stupid Lord of the Gourd.”

  “Can’t reverse a fairy curse, can you?” Shazza picked up a piece of cheese, made a face and put it back down.

  Pinky shook her head. “Never.”

  “Never?” Flower almost dropped her bread. “But the Freakin Fairies said they’d lift the curse from Nikifor if he did what they wanted!”

  Shazza sniggered. “You listened to Freakin Fairies? You two are dumber than I thought.”

  Flower said a bad word. She’d have to get a message to Nikifor somehow. But how? She couldn’t turn back when they were so close to the king. She could feel it by the way her key hummed at her neck, the way she was so close to her writers even when waking. She could ask Shazza, but she couldn’t trust her. No. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and calmed herself. The king must come first, and when she’d rescued him, he’d know what to do about Nikifor. About everything.

  She opened her eyes when a tinge of smoke sharpened the air. “Sharon? Are you going somewhere?”

  “Uh–no.” Shazza quickly wrapped up the remains of their meal and shoved it at Pinky. “We need to move. Now.” With no further explanation, she set a quick pace down the road.

  Flower and Pinky hurried to catch up.

  “Sharon what’s going on?”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t call me that!” Shazza threw an irritated glance over her shoulder and picked up the pace still more. “It’s Shazza. I’m not a human anymore, I’ve got nothing left in Dream, especially not that name.”

  Before Flower could reply, three clouds of smoke burst from mid-air and solidified into false muses. The blonde who’d led the attack on Pumpkin barred their way forward; her two companions blocked the road back.

  Shazza’s face settled into a twisted pout. She shook her fist at the blonde. “Get lost Kazza.”

  “I wondered where you’d got to.” Kazza sauntered up to Shazza and walked in a circle around her. “Didn’t believe the rumours, but I guess even I can be wrong.”

  Shazza stamped her foot. “Don’t you go being all superior just because he gave you a more important job than me! I quit, alright? I can do what I want now and you can’t stop me!”

  Kazza’s lips curved in a smile so thin and humourless it made the hairs on the back of Flower’s neck rise. “If you’re not with him, you’re against him.” She turned her attention to Pinky and Flower. “I see you’re travelling with at least one wanted felon, sister. And a–” she looked closer at Pinky. “What are you? Some kind of cartoon character? What happened, you fall in a bucket of paint?”

  Pinky curled her fist and punched Kazza in the nose.

  “Ow!” Kazza clutched her nose and took a step back. “That pink thing hit me!” She said a string of bad words, then opened her mouth and screamed.

  Flower had heard that sound before. Fear gripped her gut. Nikifor wasn’t here to fight any fetches this time and the three of them had no weapons. “Run!” she yelled, and when she couldn’t make herself heard, she grabbed Pinky by the shoulder and Shazza by the shirt and ran for her life down the muddy, potholed road. She ran faster than she ever had before, hoping against hope they’d reach some kind of help.

  She sensed the dark patch
in the sky before she saw it. To her horror, it came from in front. There was no turning back: the false muses were right behind.

  Her feet sank into the mud, slowing her going. Even with her extra height, Pinky struggled to get through the potholes. Shazza, who could have wafted herself to safety if she wanted, stayed on Pinky’s other side and helped her. Flower wanted time to think about that, about how a nasty little false muse could care about a Bloomin Fairy, but it would have to wait.

  The fetch cloud wheeled lower. The road surface evened and Flower almost sobbed with relief when her feet struck the solid surface. Ahead of them rose a tall green mass, dense and dotted with bright red and yellow flowers. Her lungs burned. Her muscles ached. The fetches were so close she could see their shiny little scales.

  The road turned to grass and the three made a wild sprint for the protection of the flowers. Flower ducked and screamed a warning when the first fetch swooped. It missed her and Pinky and latched straight onto Shazza, who simply evaporated and reappeared three feet away.

  “The flowers! Get under the flowers!” Flower pushed Pinky into the first opening in the greenery she saw, dived in after her and landed rolling in cool, leafy darkness. Shazza appeared beside them, breathing hard.

  The three huddled under the foliage. The fetches screeched overhead.

  “What are these things?” Pinky reached up and touched a huge leaf. It quivered.

  “I think they’re roses,” Flower whispered. “The king always did love roses. We must be close. Perhaps this is his garden.”

  “Come on,” Shazza hissed. “They’ll be looking for us.” She stayed low and hurried between the stems of the huge plants.

  Flower and Pinky followed. It was so easy to find a path deeper into the garden, Flower could have sworn the bushes were helping. Perhaps they were. The king was capable of many wonderful things, and all she wanted was to make it, to finally find him, but the garden went on and on. She was so exhausted from the running she could easily have imagined those huge leaves parting to make way for them. Soon they’d be safe.

  A winged beast zipped so close to her scalp it almost touched her hair. Flower realised she’d straightened to her full height, which almost brought her to the height of the beautiful red and yellow flower heads. She ducked down and picked up the pace, but it was too late.

  A second fetch dived in at them. Pinky screamed and hid behind Shazza, who flicked herself around and slammed her head into it.

  The fetch exploded.

  Flower stared. “Wow,” she said. “That was amazing, Shazza.”

  Shazza shrugged. “They can’t hurt me. Come on, there’s more coming thanks to your big head.”

  They broke into an all out run. The cloud of fetches wheeled over the roses and descended in a slow, lazy circle.

  They passed under a huge stone arch. The roses crowded thickly there as if the cold, dark shadow thrown by the stone was better food than sunlight. Flower shuddered uncontrollably until they’d gone under and come out from the shadow on the other side. She plunged through the roses, hardly caring where the path was now. Pinky and Shazza ran ahead of her. Three fetches were almost on her shoulders. Any minute now the claws would rake her skin and the poison would seep into her blood. Another dived for Pinky, then more than she could count descended, talons outstretched, screeching like terrible death.

  Flower threw her hands over her face, squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.

  The roar of a different voice cut over her scream. Unfamiliar words, words that made her blood freeze, drowned out the screeching.

  Flower slowly dropped her hands from her eyes and watched the little beasts lift off the roses and beat a hasty retreat. One tried to go back the way they’d come, only to have a thorny branch snake out and wrap around its leg. A trickle of blood stained the stem. The fetch made a choking noise and dropped like a stone. Flower jumped out of the way of its descent, but it was quite dead.

  “And stay out, you dreadful creatures!” the voice yelled.

  Flower turned slowly to the source of the voice. At first she couldn’t say anything.

  The man was taller than her by a few inches. He wore a lime green top hat and matching tailcoat. His hair was long and dark, except for a single, solid grey streak coming from one temple.

  She fell to her knees with a cry of relief. “My king! You’re safe!”

  “My dear girl, of course I’m safe. Do get up, you’re making my garden look untidy, all three of you.”

  Flower hastily got to her feet. Her exhaustion had vanished, replaced only with elation. Finally, after all these years, she’d found King Pierus and he was safe. Under siege perhaps, but who wasn’t?”

  “What are you doing here?” Pierus’s eyes flicked from her to her companions.

  Flower glanced at them. Pinky hid behind Shazza, who glowered at the king but said nothing. “My king, we came seeking your help. Shadow is in peril and–” Flower broke off and glanced at the dead fetch at her feet. “Wait, did that rose kill this fetch?”

  Pierus’s lips curved in a tolerant smile. “Yes of course. The roses kill anyone and anything who tries to leave. Except me, of course.”

  “But why?”

  “For my own protection, naturally. Come along, you’d better come in, since you were good enough to visit. You two as well.” Pierus put his arm around Flower’s shoulder and walked on through the roses.

  “But-” Flower frowned, trying to understand. “Wouldn’t it be more effective protection if the roses killed anyone who tried to come in?”

  “My dear girl, only the stupidest people ever come in here. Or the bravest. And all too often those two things are one and the same.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Clockwork’s words haunted Nikifor’s sleep. They dogged the morning’s march into the sunlight with the renegade band of fairies on their way to battle. He found it hard to pay attention when Fitz, Clockwork and Ishtar stopped at the edge of the open paddocks to argue over the best route into Quicksilver Forest; instead he stared at a ragged spider web stretched between a bare tree branch and a twig and wondered if Clockwork had seen something in him he couldn’t see for himself. Maybe Fitz was wrong to put so much trust in him. He’d screwed up for years and years. Vibe wasn’t that easy to walk away from. He’d never heard of a muse who’d survived it, except–except the king.

  Nikifor went rigid. For a single endless moment he was back in that castle. The Tormentor held out a glass of bright green liquid. It was so close to him, he could smell it, he could taste it, he could already feel the intoxicating burn in his ribs. The Tormentor, the king, grabbed his hair, tipped his head back and poured the liquid down his throat.

  Nikifor jerked out of the memory still choking. He gasped for air.

  Fitz split off from the others and came over to slap him on the back. “Are you okay?”

  Nikifor took a few deep breaths to make sure he was back to normal. “No, no I’m not. This is a disaster!”

  Fitz’s hand over his mouth muffled both the final word and the volume of Nikifor’s voice. “We really need to get this curse lifted.”

  Nikifor took another deep breath. “Thank you.” He rubbed his fingers nervously on the jeans he’d been wearing since leaving Dream. “I remembered something new.”

  “Must have been serious.” Fitz had one eye on Ishtar and Clockwork, as though he would rather return to their increasingly animated discussion.

  “The king forced me to drink vibe,” Nikifor said. “That’s how I got started.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “You don’t understand.” Nikifor pushed the hair out of his face and glanced across the grassy distance they had yet to cover. “Flower’s gone to find the king. She has no idea what he’s capable of. She’s in terrible danger, I have to go back for her!”

  “No, Nikifor.” Fitz put a hand on his shoulder and fixed him with grave, stern eyes. “She made her choice and you made yours. There’s nothing you can do for h
er now, except–” he followed Nikifor’s gaze. “Free the Freakin Fairies. Cut off the king’s silver supply. The sooner the better. If you leave us now to go after her, we’ll lose this battle and chances are you won’t reach her in time anyway.”

  “So we leave her to her fate? Is this what being part of the IA means?”

  A flicker of regret, or perhaps pain, showed in the wrinkles around Fitz’s eyes. “You’re not abandoning her, friend,” he said. “You’re focussing on the bigger picture. This way you help everybody. You’re the Muse Champion. Shadow needs you.”

  “Flower needs me too.” Nikifor strode to Ishtar and Clockwork, who were still arguing. He knew Fitz was right, but that didn’t make him any less angry about it. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to go straight across there.” Clockwork pointed at the paddocks. “The sooner we reach the mines the better.”

  “But if we go by the forest we’ll get there in one piece,” Ishtar said. “We’re already picking a fight, why make it easy for them to demolish us before we get there?”

  “They’re just as likely to ambush us in the forest,” Clockwork shot back. “At least out there we can see what’s coming.”

  “Enough.” Nikifor spoke through clenched teeth, something he wasn’t in the habit of doing, but it was quite obvious they’d be there all day arguing. “I’ll go across the paddocks. Anyone waiting for us will see me first. You go through the forest and meet me at the mine. Let’s not waste any more time.”

  Clockwork and Ishtar stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

  Ishtar opened her mouth to argue. Then she paused. “A decoy. Actually that’s a good plan.”

  “I’m going with him,” Clockwork said.

  “Please yourself.” Ishtar left to round up her fairies.

  “I’m going to be moving very fast,” Nikifor said.

  Clockwork met the challenge with a smirk. “I can keep up with any pace you set, Muse.”

  Fitz gave them a lopsided grin. “I might be a little old for what you have in mind. I’ll go with the fairies.”