by Leah Cutter
Besides, it was only once a year. And they weren’t really trying to make him do anything other than see them once a year.
Dale squirmed on the old truck bench, the vinyl sticking to the backs of his bare thighs.
At least he’d never called Kostya a friend.
Had the dwarf really returned? Did it matter? Both he and Nora were leaving in the fall. Nora would make sure that Mom was protected. And Dale would call her, every day, just to make sure.
Though maybe, if the threat was serious, maybe Dale could stay here, at home, and not have to leave.
But Dale couldn’t worry about it now. Today was his last chance to say goodbye to Leslie, the cute girl in Trig, his last class. Maybe he could finally get up the courage to ask her for her email address. Or even her phone number.
God, he was pathetic.
Dale hurried through the empty halls of the school, hurrying to his first class, social studies. The quietness in a place that was normally crowded and loud reminded him of his worst nightmares.
The one Dale had almost caused, if the fairy machine had been allowed to generate its field, dispelling all electronics.
At least Dale didn’t have to be any later by dropping by his locker and collecting his books. There wouldn’t really be much to do the last day of class, as he’d already taken the final. He slipped in the door with a nod to the teacher and made his way as quietly as he could to his seat.
The teacher finished his sentence then turned to Dale. “It’s nice of you to join us, Mr. Murray,” he said.
“Sorry,” Dale murmured, squirming a little in his seat.
“Want to share with the class what was so important that you couldn’t get here on time?” the teacher asked.
Dale looked up and stared at the man. God, he was going to be so glad to get out of here. “My mother fell. She has a bad heart. We weren’t sure if she was having another heart attack, if we were going to have to take her to the hospital again or not,” he said defiantly.
The teacher recognized that Dale was telling the truth.
“I see. She’s doing better?” he asked, suddenly solicitous.
“She insisted she’s fine,” Dale said, shaking his head. “Not much I can do except call her between every class today.”
“Keep us updated,” the teacher said, before moving onto another topic.
Yeah, right. This day couldn’t end soon enough for Dale.
* * *
Cornelius hummed happily as he flew down the grand staircase that connected his underground kingdom with the outer, human world. It had been exhilarating to go to the surface again after all this time. He tsked as he gained speed, though, circling around and around. That would never do. He was no warrior, but a royal, and so he pulled in his wings, reduced his speed to something more moderate, more sedate.
More boring.
Queen Adele had been trying to get her people to leave their underground kingdom and return to the surface, to live as they had centuries ago. While Cornelius hadn’t approved of her proposal, maybe there was something to it.
Maybe his people needed to stretch their wings more, go and dance again in the true moonlight.
The thought thrilled Cornelius, and he shot out of the staircase and flew straight up to the roof of the underground kingdom, his wings brushing the rough ceiling. The air up so far up was warm, humid, and fecund. It reminded him of old London, when the spring rains came to bless the fields and the winds nipped at his heels.
But that had been a different world, and a different time.
Cornelius looked down on the peace and order of the kingdom spread beneath him. Did he have the right to disturb their order? Maybe their time had passed, now that the humans taken over the earth? Particularly now, with their infernal machines that no fairy or magical creature could tolerate?
A shout made Cornelius turn. The warriors were doing some kind of drill above their barracks, dodging and tumbling in the air. He caught his breath as two collided and plummeted to the ground, bouncing off the roof of one of the buildings, only to soar back up again.
A warrior never gave up. Not unless he or she was so gravely injured no amount of healing could cure them. And even then, they might continue to fight until they were dead, or beyond.
The same fierce heart beat in Cornelius’ chest. He knew it, but he rarely gave it its head.
Maybe it was time to start.
His people would not go peacefully into the night. It was better to fight, though it would cost dearly, more than he could predict or plan for.
Chapter Three
Nora knew better than to stop at her locker after she got to school—Brett was long gone, and she was already late enough. But maybe he’d left something in her locker. That would totally be like him.
The empty halls didn’t creep her out like they did Dale: She always imagined the trouble she could get into with no one around. Of course, there were those damned closed-circuit TV cameras in the halls, though not everyone knew about them, or had plotted out where every single camera sat.
Nora could spoof those, transform the image they saw into something else. But that took time, and preparation. And a lot of experimenting on her part, because while she had had plenty of teachers for her human studies, none had shown up to help her with her magical studies.
Today, Nora hurried as fast as she could without actually running to her locker, as if she had to pick up a book or something. She didn’t realize her hands were shaking until she had to put in her combination twice, damn it.
The stupid lock finally gave way, though, opening to a disappointing nothing. No cards, no flowers, not even a cute toy animal waited for her in the stinky metal depths.
Nora slammed the door shut and told herself she shouldn’t be disappointed, not really. Brett had only said that he’d meet her that morning at her locker. Not that she should be expecting anything. She shouldn’t have read more into his words.
No expectations. That was how they’d started their relationship. She should remember that.
With a sigh, Nora raced off to her first class, history. She and Dale might share teachers, but they were meticulous in choosing their schedules so they never had them at the same time.
Everyone in the class had their heads down, taking a last pop quiz. Nora contained her groan, just picked up the slip of paper handed to her by the teacher before making her way to her desk.
This day couldn’t end fast enough as far as she was concerned.
* * *
Dale started sweating the moment he walked in the door of his last class. Smooth, so smooth. There was nothing for it, though. He just hoped he didn’t stink.
Leslie gave Dale a shy smile as he sat down next to her. She looked lovely, and so much hipper than he was (as always) in a pale blue baggy sweater over skinny jeans.
“Hi,” Dale said. At least he could talk with her, and usually without sounding like too much of an idiot.
“Hi,” Leslie said. “Last class, eh?” She gave him a huge grin.
“Yup,” Dale said. “Excited?”
Leslie nodded, then looked down at her desk. “I know, it sounds stupid, but I feel a little anxious as well? I mean, all we’ve ever known is high school, right? I was just thinking about how, well, final it all feels.”
“I know what you mean,” Dale said, nodding. “Like this life is ending. I mean, a new one’s beginning and all, but it’ll never be the same.”
“Exactly!” Leslie said. She gave him another big smile. “You got your job for the summer all figured out yet?”
Dale shook his head. “No.” Brett and his family had offered Dale a job at the car repair store for the summer. The problem was that Dale could do that kind of work in his sleep. Cars weren’t precise enough, not like clockwork. After the first week or so, he’d be bored. Then he might start experimenting…and that was never good for anyone, particularly not when people had to actually drive in large, armored deathtraps he’d be “fixing.”
&n
bsp; “How about you?” Dale asked. He’d remembered her talking about working at one of the tourist shops on the main drag. Summer was high season, and since the economy had started picking up again, the town had grown busy again, at least during the summer months.
“You know Betty’s Collectables?” Leslie asked, brightening.
“Sure!” Dale said. He did the odd repair job for Betty—she’d pay him well for the work, too, helping to fund his college pizza money. Plus, he’d spent more than one happy afternoon poking around the backroom there, helping Betty identify the rare watches and other important parts that had come in as part of lots that she’d had bought on the internet, from someone who didn’t know what they were selling.
“I’ll be working there, in the afternoons,” Leslie said.
“What about the weekends?” Dale asked. His heart thumped harder in his chest. Was he really going to do this?
“Yeah, some—”
“All right class,” the Trig teacher interrupted. He held up a sheaf of papers.
Dale groaned along with the rest of the class. Not only had the teacher just blown Dale’s perfect opportunity to see if Leslie wanted to go out with him sometime, the teacher wasn’t really going to give them one last pop quiz, was he? They’d already taken the final, damn it!
“Not what it seems,” the teacher assured them. “Not a quiz, but games and puzzles. If you can get all of them right, I’ll give you extra credit. And believe me, some of you need it.”
Dale gulped. He liked Trig and he was pretty sure he’d done well on the final. But it couldn’t hurt to try to get some extra credit as well.
“Now, the good news is that you don’t have to try to answer all of these by yourself. If you choose to team up with a partner, though, you’ll each only get half credit.”
Dale froze. He could spend all period talking with Leslie? Maybe his chances weren’t completely blown!
However, by the time he looked over, Leslie’s friend Debbie had already caught her eye.
Dale wanted to ask if they could split into teams of three, but he didn’t think anyone wanted to do that much work for only a third of the credit.
Tommy, from a couple rows up, nodded at Dale. With a sigh, Dale switched seats with another person and worked with Tommy for the rest of the class.
At least Tommy was really smart, and they probably got all the questions answered correctly.
The ringing bell made Dale start. Was class over already? He glanced back at his seat. Leslie was still talking with Debbie, but she already had all her books gathered up and looked like she was about to go.
“Thanks, man,” Dale told Tommy, as they both signed the paper and handed it in. Then he hurried back to his desk.
Debbie seemed determined to keep talking with Leslie. Dale felt awkward standing there, unsure how to break in. Finally he just blurted out, “I’ll see ya later.”
Smooth move, Romeo. Dale sighed and started walking toward the door when a light touch on his arm stopped him.
Leslie stood there, looking as awkward as he felt. “Here,” she said, thrusting a piece of paper at him. It held not only her email address, but her phone number on it. “Call me. Maybe,” she said, flashing him another smile before turning back to her friend.
Dale didn’t do a full fist pump, but he felt like it.
High school was finally over. The rest of his life was about to begin.
And he had Leslie’s number.
* * *
Nora sat with her friends Trish and Delia in the school cafeteria over lunch break, trying to pay attention to what they talked about: How Trish had gotten a job at a flower shop on the main drag—selling cheap bouquets to tourists; how Delia was still searching for that perfect pot roast recipe, so she could prove to her mom just how awesome a cook she was; how they’d all have to get together, often, during the summer.
It wasn’t until Delia sighed at Nora and waved her hand in front of her face that Nora realized she hadn’t been doing that good of a job being with her friends.
“Sorry,” Nora said.
“Brett will be here. After he finishes sweet-talking those three cheerleaders in his last class,” Trish teased.
Nora rolled her eyes. She knew Brett had about the same opinion of cheerleaders as she did: Useless, even if they did stack up pretty. So she wasn’t worried. Mostly.
“I thought you were supposed to meet him before classes this morning,” Delia said. “Which is why you couldn’t come get coffee with us,” she added pointedly.
“Uhm,” Nora said. “My mom fell.” She paused, then added, “We still aren’t sure why.”
Trish and Delia looked at each other. Nora wondered if that was what she and Dale looked like when they were talking without words.
“Dale said something like that in class this morning, too,” Trish said softly. “I’m sorry.”
Nora shrugged. She knew what had caused their mom to fall: That damned fairy magic had interfered with her mom’s pacemaker. How had Cornelius been able to make her better, though? Nora knew that hadn’t been an illusion.
Did the fairies have healing magic? Was that why they didn’t really age or get sick? Kostya had told her that the warriors could be dismembered and maimed and would still fight on.
But if they could heal themselves, then why had the queen had clockwork in her wings? Why hadn’t she just repaired them?
Maybe it was a matter of how injured they were…
“Hard at work, I see,” came a teasing voice from behind Nora.
“Brett!” Nora said, turning and smiling at him. She’d let him sneak up on her again—he did that often, actually. He was the only person she knew who could do that. Even Dale entering a room would bring her out of wherever her brain had taken her.
“Hi babe,” Brett said, giving her a quick hug. “Missed you this morning.”
“Mom fell,” Nora said quietly.
“Is she all right?” Brett asked quickly, sitting down and taking Nora’s hand.
“She says she’s fine,” Nora said truthfully. “But I’m worried it’s her heart again.” Had the fairy magic done any permanent damage to her pacemaker, like it had the first time? Would Cornelius’ magic affect it at all? Fairies couldn’t work with electronics at all. Nora would suggest that her mom go see the cardiologist now, rather than at her semi-annual appointment in a few months.
“So you’ll have to be rushing home directly after school, then,” Brett said, his tone flat and neutral.
Nora hesitated. Obviously, Brett wanted to spend some time alone with her. And she had promised Mom that they’d talk later, not right after school.
“I’ll need to call her, first,” Nora told him. “But then—what did you have in mind?”
Brett smiled. He had a great smile. He’d been adopted as a baby, so he didn’t know his bio-parents. He’d told Nora that his mom had always claimed he looked like old Eli, his grandfather.
Nora had never seen Brett and his grandfather standing side-by-side. Brett and his family hadn’t moved into town until after Eli had died, to take care of the business.
She did agree, though, that Brett vaguely resembled old Eli. There was something about his eyes—that same searing shade of blue. She’d heard other girls talking about them once, claiming they were just magical.
However, they made Nora uncomfortable, reminding her too much of their former landlord.
Luckily, other than his eyes, Brett didn’t remind Nora of the old man at all.
Which was good—because Nora still wasn’t sure if Eli had been human or not.
* * *
“Yes ma’am, I know what a restraining order is,” Chris told the judge, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other as he stood on the slippery marble floor in front of the raised bench in the courtroom. He resisted reaching up and tugging at either his close-buttoned shirt collar or his tie. Despite how the AC blasted, he still sweated under his suit jacket.
Damn it. It would be Chris’ lu
ck that he’d get some damned, liberal, female judge. His lawyer had warned him to keep his answers short and to the point, or he’d get hit with another contempt charge.
Chris had thought Texas would be above such things. But he’d been wrong about so many things here: the new start that he’d get, his new wife, his new son.
Mama had even approved of his new wife Patricia, saying she knew her place.
They’d both been fooled by that soft southern drawl of hers. She’d turned into a bear when she’d thought her cub was threatened.
Chris never would have hurt his son. And Patricia, she’d just needed to be reminded of her place.
She hadn’t taken to the lesson too well, though.
“Then why in God’s name were you trying to fetch your son from his daycare?” the judge asked.
Chris wasn’t about to admit that his car had been packed full of his things, how he’d been about to hit the road with his boy.
Yet another dream spoiled.
“As I explained to the court before, I thought his mama was having difficulty with the school. I only went to straighten things out.” It had been a good excuse, too. His latest child support payment check had bounced—he’d emptied the account deliberately. That way he’d have a reason to go to the daycare center.
And snatch his son.
The judge looked down on Chris from her high bench seat. Probably slept her way to an appointment. “You will honor the restraining order your wife has taken out on you. Or not only am I going to garnish your wages, I’m gonna throw your ass in jail, and maybe lose the paperwork. For a week. Or two. Do you understand me, young man?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chris said, acting chastened but seething inside. How dare this judge, well, judge him?
She didn’t understand. So few did. Breaking apart families was a sin. This great country of theirs had lost so much when they gave women the vote.
Chris knew that the judge wasn’t serious about jailing him. She was just trying to scare him into behaving.
Luckily, Chris didn’t scare easily. He gave her a tight smile.
The judge paused. “Now, I see that your first wife also has a restraining order against you. She renews it, every year. Like clockwork. So what I see here is a pattern. I’d advise you to break out of it, right now. Because I will throw you in jail if I see you here again. I’m gonna have my clerk watch for your name, and make damn sure if you’re brought up for charges again, you’ll face me. Don’t doubt it.”