The Maker, the Teacher, and the Monster

by Leah Cutter

  Still…when he made an offer to Dale, Nora had to ask. “What about me?” she said. “What if I need someplace to go.”

  Dad’s eye swept Nora from top to toe. “What, you pregnant or something?” he asked.

  Nora held up her hand before Mom exploded. “No. I’m not pregnant. But what if I needed someplace to go for a few months? Before I go to college?”

  “No, Nora,” Mom said automatically. “Not with him.”

  “Mom, please,” Nora said. Sure, Dad was a bully. He’d bullied Dale as well as her mom. But he’d never been able to bully her.

  And now that she saw him as he truly was, he’d never be able to do anything to her. She’d have to get Mom to see that she could take care of herself when it came to him.

  Dad looked at Nora, then at Dale, then back again. “I think we could work out something,” he said. “I could put up with you if that meant I got access to my son. Want to corrupt him too.”

  Nora shivered. She knew those weren’t the exact words her dad had said, but rather, the true meaning of them. She looked at Dale. Could her dad corrupt him?

  However, Dad was only human. And Dale was her twin. He could be as stubborn as she was. Not more stubborn, of course. But stubborn enough. He wouldn’t listen to Dad’s warped ideas.

  In fact, he already knew Dad wasn’t the sweetheart Nora had thought he was when they first ran away.

  “No,” Mom said, her voice harder than Nora had ever heard it before. “He won’t protect you.”

  Nora nearly laughed, but she knew her mom was serious. “Mom, I don’t need him to protect me. I can do that myself.” She just needed to stay with him a short while. “And he can’t hurt me,” she assured her mother. And maybe herself.

  “Are you still in league with the devil?” Chris asked. “I don’t want anything unholy riding in my car.”

  Now, Nora did laugh. Her dad had told her that the last time he’d seen her—because he’d gotten a really good look at Queen Adele.

  “Not in league with the devil, Dad. Give me any test you’d like. I’ll drink holy water if that’s what you need.”

  Chris looked at Nora hard. Was he actually seeing her? Was he capable of seeing her? “You have grown up nicely,” he said.

  Nora shivered. He did not mean that in any sexual way. It just sounded like that. Besides, she’d fry off his personal parts if he ever tried anything.

  “You’re not going with that man,” Mom said firmly.

  “Mom, I need to make my own decision here,” Nora told her. They locked eyes, staring hard at each other.

  “Please,” Nora added. She could take care of herself in regard to her dad. He wasn’t nearly as frightening as some unknown monster preventing her from getting her proper training.

  “All right,” Mom said finally, nodding. She turned toward Dad. “I will hunt you down and use your own balls to strangle you if you harm her.”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Dad said, holding up his hands. “I thought I was the one doing you a favor.”

  “And you would be,” Nora said. “I really need to leave here. Now.”

  “I suppose I could take you in, if that meant getting you off the street for a while,” Dad said, glancing between Nora and her mom.

  “Thank you,” Nora said, trying to sound grateful. “I’ll be ready to go by tomorrow night.” She hated saying those words. But Mom was right. The sooner she left, the better.

  “And when will Dale come to visit?” Dad said, turning away from Nora toward his prize.

  “Next month,” Dale said. “After the fourth of July. That’s always the busy time at the store. I couldn’t leave Mrs. Donovan without help.”

  Mrs. Donovan? Dale didn’t have a job. Or was that Betty’s last name? Was he working at her shop? Why hadn’t he mentioned anything?

  But Dad nodded, smiling and proud. “Of course you have a job,” he said, throwing a sneer at Nora, obviously figuring that she was unemployed. “It’s only right that you do right by them. As long as they’re doing right by you.”

  Dale nodded. He looked at Nora. She could practically hear the words spoken out loud: You better be gone from there before I have to visit.

  Nora nodded. She certainly hoped so. Or she’d probably end up killing her dad herself.

  Chapter Seven

  Cornelius turned his face up to the stars and laughed. Finally, after all his work, the bonfire was a success. Flames leaped high in the dark night. Stars laughed with him, twinkling in the sky. Even the moon sent her beams as blessings on the dancing figures. The ocean glowed darkly beyond the beach.

  Of course, not all the royals Cornelius had personally invited had shown up. Fewer servants and warriors as well.

  But there were still over thirty who had shown up, who spiraled up into the air, screeching their delight. This was just the first of several fires, Cornelius was determined. More fairies would show up at the next. And then more, and then more.

  By midsummer, he’d have most of the fairies in the kingdom participating: Maybe not all the royals, but the servants and the warriors. They’d all support his rule. He’d show the priests—everyone—that he had been meant for the rule.

  Maybe it was time for him to pursue being declared king. It would take time, and patience, and some political maneuvering, but that was something Cornelius had and did well.

  And here he’d been complaining about the impatience of the warriors! Cornelius had to remember that spring always followed winter. Gideon and Imogene may have been right—their people were waning.

  However, Cornelius was going to do something to make sure that they waxed again. He smiled from his position on the sidelines, watching his people enjoy themselves, though he also itched to join them.

  The warriors grappled in midair, tumbling as they conducted mock battles far above the searing flames. They’d rise and fall, flinging each other around roughly. Cornelius was glad that these warriors protected his kingdom: Their fierceness filled him with joy.

  Servants conducted a complicated dance that Cornelius had never seen before, weaving around each other gracefully, spiraling up and down. He was going to have to learn it, someday. It reminded him of a field of flowers, gracefully bobbing with the wind, interacting with the bees flying up and down.

  The royals, like Cornelius, mostly stayed on the sidelines. Sometimes one would join in, dancing and screeching for a bit, before merely watching again. Neither Gideon or Imogene were there. Then again, Cornelius hadn’t directly invited them.

  Off in the distance, surrounding the fire and the fairies in a wide circle, floated Thirza and her people. Cornelius wondered if maybe they could be enticed to join the dance, or if they took turns guarding and celebrating.

  None of the priests had shown up, which disappointed Cornelius. Had Sebastian decided that they didn’t approve? Cornelius had thought they’d all be there. But they’d all stayed away. He’d have to ask Sebastian later.

  When one of the younger royals—Eustace, wasn’t it?—gave Cornelius a flirtatious smile as she flew by, Cornelius spread his wide wings and glided after her, floating on the strong ocean breezes. There was no reason why he couldn’t also join in the dance, now and again.

  Cornelius spiraled up, his fierce heart beating wildly in his chest. He’d never taken a mate: Had always assumed that none would have him. Most fairies never showed their age, but Cornelius had gone gray as a young man, over a century ago.

  Maybe he’d been wrong.

  Eustace led Cornelius on a twisting dance, up and down. He was glad that he’d been flying everywhere for the past two days: His wings had never felt stronger, despite how much he’d used them.

  Or maybe because they were getting so much use.

  The sound of screeching rose on all sides of Cornelius. He joined in, trying to express his joy. Yes! Yes! They should all celebrate, cry their hearts out to the night sky, dance on moonbeams and twist the flames higher.

  When someone clipped Cornelius in the shoulder, he barr
ed his teeth. How dare they interrupt his dance? His pursuit of a female? His hands formed automatically into claws, ready to tear the intruder to pieces.

  Thirza floated there, growling back. She screeched into his face, “Stand down! It’s just me, you idiot.”

  Cornelius automatically stiffened his back, his hands going back to their softer shape. What had he been thinking? Why would he attack someone? He shuddered. The bonfire had drawn up something ugly from his soul.

  Then he remembered the insult. How dare a warrior call him anything other than “sir”?

  “We’re being attacked,” Thirza said, pointing off to the south.

  * * *

  Adele laughed as she slit the throat of the third warrior. She wished she had a full troop of warriors with her so she could rest after a killing and lick up the blood.

  But there were too many of the enemy, and she was alone. The others, the students, were children, really. Worse than royals in too many ways.

  Adele had known that the double-cross was happening. She hadn’t trusted Ramit from the start, though she had felt more comfortable in his kingdom than she had at the Redwood Fairy Kingdom. But she also recognized his greed. His people were dying. He needed more subjects. If he couldn’t have them, he’d kill them.

  Once the warriors had shown Adele just how much Ramit’s kingdom had fallen, she’d spent the rest of the night grappling with one after another, learning their strengths and weaknesses.

  They all were strong, stronger than any other warriors she’d ever known.

  But it was primarily their arms that were strong, probably from hauling logs and trees, trying to set up small shelters in the freezing winters.

  They weren’t as nimble as she was, couldn’t maneuver as she could.

  They also relied on strength, not magic or subtlety. Though Adele knew Cornelius would laugh at her, warriors could be subtle.

  At Garung’s shouted warning, the others in his troop finally woke to the realization they were in danger.

  Maybe Adele should have warned them earlier. Then again, they never would have believed her.

  A few of Ramit’s warriors were successful, holding onto the students they’d placed themselves next to. Adele wanted to clap her hands with glee when she saw that Pravir had been neatly captured. Maybe the warrior beside him had some skill capturing and killing snakes.

  Adele couldn’t be bothered with him after that. She had her own battles to fight.

  Warriors flew at Adele from all directions. At least they understood that to attack her one at a time was stupid. She spiraled and whirled, shouting and screaming as she slashed at her attackers. Her wings were more vulnerable than a usual fairy’s—all that Ramit’s warriors would have to do would be to stick a spear in the clockwork, clog up the gears.

  Luckily, that thought hadn’t seemed to occur to them. They fell on her screeching, four against one.

  Adele flew hard, trying to get away, draw as many of them with her as they could. Maybe the students could get away if she brought more warriors to attack her.

  Then she’d turn, and attack herself. They’d never seen fierce before.

  A loud howl made Adele look over her shoulder. Titir had flown after her, and now attacked one of the warriors with a sparkling, silver chain, whipping it around and entangling the warrior’s wings again.

  But Titir hadn’t noticed the other warriors coming toward him, fully focused on his one foe.

  With a screaming howl of disappointment, Adele turned back. She was going to have to rescue the stupid fool. Then she’d probably kill him herself.

  So much for getting away.

  * * *

  Brett glared at his phone. Infernal modern device. It was useful at times, but right now, he’d gladly toss it into the ocean, along with at least half the humans in his territory.

  He hadn’t been able to find the damned human teacher who’d warned Nora. He had no doubt that one had made it through to her. He’d have to admit the teacher had been clever and had hidden her tracks well, mingling with the tourists and their shops, spreading her scent far and wide in a short period of time. It was like following a tangled net, teasing apart separate lines that led off, only to circle back into town again.

  There was something off with her scent. If Brett had to guess, he’d say she was ill. Seriously ill. He was almost flattered by that, that the human magic makers would send such a one, considering it to be a suicide mission.

  He hadn’t realized he’d gained such a reputation. He had chased off a few teachers, true, but he hadn’t killed many. Not more than half a dozen over the last five years. Plus, the accident on the main highway that had claimed the life of two others really hadn’t been his fault. And while he had some power over the water, the sneaker wave that had claimed one more also hadn’t been his fault, though he had encouraged the waves that morning to take any who were foolish enough to turn their back on the ocean.

  Still, this teacher couldn’t be allowed access to Nora. She’d learn too much, too quickly, and would push him to the side, no longer trusting his appearance. She wouldn’t be able to see through his disguise—he was too old, too strong, too well practiced. But something would trouble her about him, and he’d never have another chance to get close again.

  The teacher was out of his grasp for the night. He’d searched, and would search again in the morning.

  Now, Brett wanted to see Nora. To bask in her warm hearthfire. To try to win her again. To maybe just slip the ring onto her finger, to bind her to him.

  But the damned phone kept going straight through to voicemail.

  It was as bad as when Brett had been courting the previous Maker, over a hundred years ago. All the hoops he’d had to jump through, the formal introductions, how he couldn’t just present himself at her house, despite calling hours: It just wasn’t done, a young gentleman calling on her like that.

  He knew, though, that he couldn’t just show up. Nora’s mother would boot him out if he did. She had strict policies about such things, maybe a holdover from her mother.

  It had been a shame to kill such a spark. But he couldn’t take any chances. Nora had to stay ignorant of his true nature until it was too late.

  So Brett tried the phone again, stabbing the End Call button when it went directly through to voicemail. Again.

  Though he knew he couldn’t go into the house, that he wouldn’t be welcome, well, he could still drive out there and check the property, right? He knew that Nora didn’t like the tall grass opposite the house, and he tended to agree with her: Too many creatures could hide in the darkness there.

  Still, it was useful. Particularly on a night like tonight. Brett parked his truck at the end of the lane, not driving down the gravel road and giving away his position. Instead, he slipped out and flitted from shadow to shadow.

  The blue flashes out near the water drew his attention. The fairies were out. On the beach. Why? That was most unlike them. They’d stopped having bonfires and dancing in the moonlight decades ago.

  Something else Brett was going to have to investigate. He had thought the fairies coming to his territory would be a good thing, but they’d been nothing but a pain in the ass since he’d allowed them to drive out the dwarves and stay. Though the dwarves hadn’t been that good of neighbors either, digging out the jewels and treasures in his hills and carting it away.

  A foreign car was parked in the driveway. Who? Brett didn’t recognize it. After he’d settled himself in the tall grass across the street from the house he unfocused his eyes to look past the sheetrock, to the souls inside.

  The mother, the Maker and the Tinker were all scared. But not threatened. The soul who stood there with them was weak. Already corrupted. Had no power.

  It—he—didn’t stay long. He whistled as he got into his car to drive off. Whatever it was that he’d wanted, he’d achieved it. Waves of smugness rolled off him. His scent wasn’t familiar, though.

  Who was this stranger?

  B
rett longed to go inside, find the Maker, bask in her warmth. But he couldn’t.

  He would follow this bastard, though. Maybe use him as leverage against Nora.

  Without bothering to get back in his truck, Brett flowed after the interloper. Modern cars and their speed presented no challenge for him, and he easily followed the man to one of the cheaper hotels out on the strip.

  There was a reason why the local Native Americans referred to his people as wind hawks—unshakable in stalking their prey.

  * * *

  Kostya watched with dismay as the fairies flew out of the disguised house that was the entrance to the fairy kingdom. A whole stream of them, and not just warriors—servants and royals as well.

  What was going on? Why were the fairies leaving the fairy kingdom? Were they leaving for good?

  This was going to blow his revenge well and truly to hell. He really was going to have to report this.

  The house remained as dismal as it always had. The illusion of the boarded-over door had been replaced with an unwelcome gaping hole, that if Kostya squinted just right, he could see through to the opening to the house. The inside had been cleaned up since he’d last been there: All the order of the royals taking over.

  Eventually, the stream of fairies died down. After the last few stragglers had flown off as well, Kostya tottered to the edge of the cliff and looked down. There, on a slip of beach below, the fairies had built a huge bonfire.

  Kostya watched, gobsmacked, as the fairies danced. It was like an old-fashioned celebration, the kind they always used to have. What had caused them to be out like this now? Were they celebrating something? Had there been a royal birth? Some great victory?

  But no, the fairies just seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  Kostya had to turn away, had to walk back along the tall grasses, back to the road. How dare the fairies just celebrate the phases of the moon? They should be miserable and suffering, as Kostya had been miserable and suffering, all these years.