Bad Luck Girl

by Sarah Zettel

  Which way, my daughter? he asked in my mind.

  The big, old fairy gates don’t come in just one piece. There’s a kind of front porch that opens onto the human world. We were past that now. Then there’s a big space where the worlds sort of blend together. It was like the betwixt and between, except the fairies who held the gate kind of moved in their furniture and hung drapes. That was where we were now. I turned in place, using my magic to feel carefully around me. There were memories trapped in this place along with the dark. The house had been ruined when it burned, and the gate had been badly damaged, but it hadn’t been closed. Not quite. There was still a crack. And cracks could be widened. Ruin could be cleared. Somebody had done just that. It had taken a long time, but they’d done it. But I couldn’t see who they were. I couldn’t feel the shine or the midnight of them to know if it was the Seelies or the Unseelies who’d opened this gate, and were waiting for us to walk through.

  Papa saw all this flickering through my head. It doesn’t matter now, daughter. What matters is that we need to go farther in. Which way is it?

  I bit my lip, and started walking again.

  A long hallway led farther into the house. Eventually, it opened into a gallery that stretched out in either direction, like a letter T. Cobwebs trailed down from the ceiling and clumped up in the corners. There was one old chair, turned on its back, its stuffing trailing out. Another threshold opened in front of us. A heavy, half-burnt beam slanted across it and we had to duck underneath.

  On the other side, there used to be a dining room. Whatever fire had taken this place, it had broken the heavy table down the middle and reduced the carved chairs to charred frames. There was a heap of ashy splinters in the middle of the floor, like somebody’d grabbed what was left of the cabinets and chairs to use as kindling for a campfire, ignoring the soot-streaked fireplace.

  A pair of doors waited on the far side of the ruined room. Once there had been glass in their frames, and they had looked out onto a garden. When we’d walked into this house, it had been a sunny afternoon. Out in that garden, though, it was nighttime. I couldn’t tell if we’d been in here that long or if it was just always night out there.

  A warm wind blew through the few sharp shards that still glittered in the burnt-out mullions, but this wasn’t any smoggy Chicago breeze. This was warm and smelled of sweet dreams. This was the wind from the fairy lands. It was nothing so much as a current of pure magic, and it flowed straight into my veins.

  Papa let out a long, slow breath. He leaned into that wind from his faraway home and breathed deep. I felt his magic stirring restlessly, yearning, sad. Lonely.

  Papa?

  He was a long time answering.

  I’ll be all right, he said, but he had to pull his attention a long way back to do it. But we have to be extra careful from here on out.

  We walked forward, treading gently on the creaking boards. Things skittered and scurried between the heaps of trash. In the corner lay something all heaped up and dirty gray that looked like a fur rug that had been kicked aside. There was a broken sideboard hunched up in the dark. An old painting had fallen on its face beside a heap of white rags and wrinkled leather. Something sparkled on the floor. It was a lady’s brooch, like a bright orchid made of a hundred tiny diamonds. How could this have been left here? I was sure I’d seen it before. I was about to bend over and reach for it when a flash of red caught my eye. Something long and snaky had been draped across one of the heaps of half-burnt papers. Like a rope, except not quite.

  It was a dog’s leash. Now I remembered where I’d seen that pin.

  Don’t look, daughter. Keep walking. But Papa’s mind was too close to mine, and I understood, because he did. The shaggy thing I’d thought was an old rug, and that wrinkled pile of white and leather scraps, they weren’t just trash. They were all that was left of Mimi and her mistress.

  “They failed me,” said a light, clear voice. “And they paid the price.”

  A girl stepped out of the shadows. She was white and about my age, with a sunny smile and golden curls. She wore a long pink wraparound skirt and a pretty matching striped top. Or, it would have been pretty if it hadn’t had the huge dark stain splattered all over the bodice and waist.

  I knew her. She was Ivy Bright, and she was supposed to be dead.

  “She is dead,” said Papa out loud. “This, daughter, is our host. This is the Seelie king.”

  “Hello, Callie,” said the Seelie king in Ivy’s sunny, happy voice. He clasped her little white hands together joyfully. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “That it is, Your Majesty,” said a man’s voice from deeper in the dark. “That it most certainly is.”

  I didn’t want to know that voice. I didn’t want to lift my eyes from Ivy’s pale, dead face. Because things were only going to get worse when I did. My uncle Shake stepped out of the dark to stand beside the Seelie king.

  24

  The Man Come to Take You Away

  Uncle Shake was all decked out in his fairy prince clothes. His black-and-silver cloak swept back from his shoulders, and that mask with its silver veins and mirror eyes gleamed against his clear brown skin, covering the face I knew was so badly scarred. At the sight of Uncle Shake, Papa’s whole self shifted. His arm tightened to pin my hand close to his side, and his magic closed around mine. But the touch of that magic had changed. Before, it had surrounded me with strength and protection. Now there was just a kind of slick softness.

  The Seelie king, from inside Ivy, took Shake’s hand in both of hers and smiled up at him, putting all Ivy’s little-girl charm into the expression. I wanted to scream. I wanted to smack that pretty little face, with magic and bare hands. I wanted to smack it hard enough to knock the Seelie king right out of his dead daughter’s skin. He’d set her up to die. He’d made me shoot her down. Now he dragged her body out of the grave to stand here and smile for him. There was not enough anger in any world for this. I pure and plain wanted that creature inside Ivy’s skin to die.

  Slowly, the shock bled out of me, and I was very aware of something else. Papa stood still in front of these two mismatched monsters, holding me in place. He was full of contempt as he looked at his brother and the Seelie king, but there wasn’t any surprise in him. None at all.

  “You knew,” I whispered. “You knew and you still walked us in here.”

  “And how could I have stopped you, daughter?” Papa said the words cheerfully, like he was letting me in on some kind of good joke. “You were so determined to come and save your Halfer friends, what was I to do?”

  Shake wagged his head back and forth slowly. “It’s just shocking the sort of company these children do keep nowadays.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?” Papa replied, just as serious. “It’s not entirely her fault, of course. She wasn’t raised with any proper discrimination.”

  “You should have brought her back before,” said Shake. “It would have saved so much unpleasantness.”

  For an answer, my father slowly winked one bright eye. The bottom dropped out of my heart, and even Shake stood speechless for a second. Then Shake threw back his head and busted out laughing.

  “You sly dog, Donchail! You planned this from the beginning!”

  Donchail. Shake was using Papa’s fairy name. His true name. The one that could break any disguise and work magic over the owner. In response, Papa smiled broadly, showing all his straight white teeth. He bowed to my uncle, and to the Seelie king.

  No. No. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

  My uncle kept right on laughing. Papa joined in, his laugh shaking him right down to his shoes, and me with it, because he still hadn’t let go.

  “Glory to you, brother!” Shake slapped Papa’s shoulder. “You had me completely fooled! I actually thought you’d been infected with love for that woman. But you were just getting the child off her! You knew it would shift the power!”

  Papa bowed. “The laws change if I am no longer
the heir,” he said. “So much more becomes possible, and so much more can happen out of sight. As you know full well, brother.”

  No, no, no. I reached my thoughts out to my father, but it was like reaching to a glass wall. He was gone from me. I couldn’t touch him, even though he still had hold of me. I guess he felt me trying, because he looked down at me. The smile my father turned toward me was filled with sunlight. It said that everything was all right, finally.

  “Please, no,” I whispered. “No, Papa.”

  The Seelie king reached out Ivy’s hands and grabbed mine. “Oh, yes, Callie. Don’t you see? Your father’s arranged everything. Now you can come home with me, and we’ll be best friends forever and ever.”

  Ivy’s hands were cold and soft, like clay or mud, like anything but human hands. I clapped my hand over my mouth to muffle the scream that wanted to bust out of me. I yanked my hand back from the Seelie king, and I lurched into a run.

  Or I would have, if Papa had gotten out of the way.

  “Uh-uh, daughter.” Papa wrapped his hand around my wrist, and he squeezed, hard. “It’s not good manners to turn your back on a king.”

  I didn’t stop to think. I stomped on his foot and shoved an elbow in his stomach for good measure. Papa doubled over and his grip slipped. I ran through the burnt-out library, racing for the door and the human world.

  But I wound up running smack into the arms of a crow man.

  Black robes wrapped around me, strangling and smothering. I hauled on my magic, wishing for them to tear, and they did, a little. I kicked, and punched, and yanked, and I did break free, just in time to see that the crow man wasn’t alone. More of the flock flapped in through the broken windows. They settled among the heaps of trash and turned from black birds to robed men. They had red eyes and gray faces and black, crooked fingers. They snickered and chuckled and knotted those fingers in my hair and around my arms and my ankles. They hoisted me high and didn’t care I was screaming as they carried me right back to the Unseelie brothers and their Seelie king.

  The corbies set me down in front of Papa, who laid his hand on my head. “Now, daughter, was that smart?” he asked, his voice soft and disappointed. “Did you really think we’d be allowed to leave the party so soon?” He turned his hand back and forth, forcing me to shake my head no. Then he said to Shake and the Seelie king, “She won’t do that again, brother, you’ll see.”

  “I don’t know, Donchail. She has a way of surprising us all.” Those words had a sharp edge. Shake was remembering everything I’d done to him so far. I remembered too. I wanted to do it all again, and double it. But between my papa’s hand closed over my scalp and all the corbies crowding up at my back, I could barely move. When I reached out with my magic, I couldn’t even find Uncle Shake. All I felt was the crow men, wicked, tricky, bony, and hungry. Always hungry.

  “She’ll mind,” Papa was saying. “I’ll see to it. After all, I must have some employment now that I’ve returned.”

  “Ah! Now we come to the little hitch in your long plan, brother.” Shake—Lorcan—tilted his head. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask’s mirror lenses, but I could still feel his gaze crawling across me, and my father. He was looking for weakness, and promising it would not be forgiven when he found it. But Papa just stood under that slow scrutiny, and kept on smiling.

  “Well, well,” said my uncle thoughtfully. “But you must understand, such decisions are not up to me.” He nodded toward the Seelie king.

  The Seelie king wasn’t looking at Papa. He—she—he was looking at me through Ivy’s dead, damp eyes. He walked forward slowly, bringing the smell of old blood and gunpowder. My stomach lurched and I admit I cringed, but that just pressed me into the soft, skin-warm robes of the crow men at my back. They chortled and grabbed hold of me that much harder.

  “I could kill you now, you know,” said Ivy’s voice happily. “You have no idea how much trouble you’ve caused with your running around, your crude manners, and your nasty, ugly little friends. I could kill you dead and the law would allow it, for what you did to me.” He said it all thoughtful, like Ivy was considering which dress to wear.

  “Majesty, we spoke on this,” remarked Shake. “There are formalities to be observed, are there not? It would not do to leave any little … loopholes open.”

  “Hmm.” The king made Ivy tap her chin and then sighed. “Yes, I expect you’re right.”

  The king inside Ivy waved her hand. The crow men fell back, letting go of me so suddenly, I dropped to my hands and knees on the soot-stained floor. I scrambled to my feet again, as fast as I could, but I was aching all over, and angry red marks covered my arms where they’d held me.

  “Well, Donchail.” The king made Ivy sigh. “Since you say she’ll mind you, Your Ex-Highness, you can take charge of your daughter, until we get back at least.”

  “Thank you, Majesty.” Papa grabbed my arm before I could see which way to try to run. He bowed again to the Seelie king. “I assure you, your trust in me will not be without its reward.”

  “Hmmm,” said Ivy again. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

  Shake seemed less than happy about this pronouncement. “Don’t think we’re done, Donchail,” he said to Papa. “You’ve won the hand, but you still owe me for these scars of mine.” He ran his fingertips down the edge of his mask. “And a few other things.”

  “You may be very sure, Lorcan, my brother. I returned here ready to pay you back in full for all that’s been done.”

  The king rolled Ivy’s eyes. “Boys,” she said to me as if I was supposed to understand. “Now come along, all of you. We can’t be standing around here anymore. There’s simply too much to do.”

  The king held out Ivy’s arm, and Shake took it, just like Papa had taken mine back on the sidewalk, when we left Mama and Jack behind. When Papa took my arm this time, it was nowhere near so polite, and he dragged me along behind.

  “Wait. Papa. Please. Stop.” I had to find a way to reach him, to buy time enough to figure out how to get away. “What about Mama?”

  “What about her?” answered Papa lightly, cheerfully. “She still has your young Mr. Holland. They’ll be fine. Those two are just like peas in a pod.” He gave those words a nasty slide and my stomach clenched up.

  “It wasn’t real, any of it.” I said it out loud, so I’d never forget it. “You never loved her.”

  Papa leaned in close, his fairy eyes suddenly hard as diamonds. “What do you think?” he hissed. “Am I with her? Am I taking her away from all this, as the saying goes? No. I’m here with you and with them, on my way back home. How much do you think I could possibly feel for her?”

  “His Majesty is waiting, Donchail,” called Shake. He and the Seelie king stood in front of the broken glass doors that looked like they led to the old garden.

  “I apologize, but there’s just one more thing.” Papa put his hand into my skirt pocket. “I’ll hold on to this.” He tucked the notebook Jack had given me into his jacket. “It’s too small and cheap a thing for Princess Calliope to be carrying about her person.”

  That did it. What little calm I’d been able to pull together broke in two, and I kicked out again. This time, though, Papa was ready for me. He stepped sideways and back, twisting my arm firmly around behind me, so the more I struggled, the more it hurt.

  Shake pushed the door open for the Seelie king and the king made Ivy walk on through into the ash-covered garden. Papa followed, marching me in front of him.

  The Great Chicago Fire had happened over fifty years ago, but that garden smelled of fresh smoke and crackled with heat. The plants were as blackened and broken as the inside of the house, but fresh sparks shone on the edges of the ashy leaves. But that was only for a little ways. As we walked, I felt the last of the human world melting away into the magic of the Unseelie country. It filled me with the comfortable sensation of coming to a place that knew me inside and out. Up ahead was the world where I fit, completely and without question. Part of me
was already aching to get closer. It didn’t want me to try to drag my feet. It wanted me to hurry up. When I got there, I’d be given something I didn’t even know had been kept away from me. When I got there, I’d finally have all my magic, all myself.

  Think about Jack, I ordered myself. Think about Jack and Mama. Got to get away, got to get back to them.

  That helped. A little. My eyes had adjusted to the dark and silver shadows of this place. I could see the rough stone wall that traced the border of the Unseelie lands. It was jumbled and broken from where the armies had come through, but some of the guardian stones were still alive, and they were opening clay-gray eyes. They were afraid, but they were also happy. Of course they were hungry too, like every other fairy I’d met who wasn’t one of the kings. They were thinking how they’d done their work well. Maybe today they’d be fed.

  The Seelie king waved Ivy’s hand. The stone goblins cringed and fell back, widening the nearest gap in the wall. It would be beautiful on the other side of that wall, as beautiful and perfect as the first ray of sunlight on a winter morning, or the light of the full moon over the water.

  I clamped my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want to feel the curiosity, or worse, the longing, bubbling through me. I didn’t want to understand that the whole world beyond the wall had missed me.

  “Oh, isn’t that cute!” exclaimed Ivy’s voice. “She wants to be surprised!” There was a little giggle, but then that pretty little-girl voice turned hard.

  “Open your eyes,” she, he, it commanded. “Open them, Calliope Margaret LeRoux deMinuit. Open them up, Heir to the Midnight Throne, Bad Luck Girl, Prophecy Girl.”

  There was a sharp twisting inside my heart, like a knife blade slicing deep. The Seelie king knew my names. My uncle, who’d been at my side and in my head, had given him all of my names that he’d found out, and my names opened my eyes.

  And just like that, I was home.

  25

  So Sweet, So Cold, So Fair