by Leah Cutter
When Nora realized Dale and Mom were staring at her, she just nodded and said, “Sure. Whatever.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Mom asked, coming farther into the room. She put the back of her cool hand against Nora’s forehead. “You feel warm.”
“That’s just the magic, Mom,” Nora explained. “Part of the transformations, you know? Oh, right, you don’t. You’re human.” Nora pushed herself off the bed, hitting the floor harder than she’d expected. Her ankles twinged. She pushed past Mom and headed toward the door.
“Excuse me, young lady?” Mom asked.
Nora knew that she’d overstepped her bounds. But she found she didn’t care. She’d be gone the next night. Might as well cut all the ties she could. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in my room. Packing. Out of your hair soon enough.”
“Nora,” Mom called out after she’d pushed open the door.
For a moment, Nora paused, expecting to feel her mom’s hand wrapped around her bicep. But it never came. Instead, Dale said in a low voice, “Let her go.”
Of course. Mom would side with Dale. He’d get to stay. Nora knew he wanted to, anyway. To never leave Port City.
Well, that was too bad. She was going. And good riddance.
Nora found herself in her room, looking at the mess there. Maybe Dale was right, sometimes it was a sty. But it was her sty. No one else’s. Those were her project bags, that she’d have to leave behind. Her craft projects that she’d probably never be able to finish. Her little magics—simple knotted strings in various eye patterns—draped across the window so nothing could come in, possibly even with her permission, were all going to get left behind, taken for granted.
And for what? So Nora could learn more magic, be more of a freak? Apart from her family and everyone else, kind of like her Dad?
If only she could tell Brett. Or have him come with her. She knew that wasn’t safe, though.
And Dale would spoil it all, too, by showing up early. He’d do that sort of thing. He might not have been fooled by their dad, but how long would that last?
Nora opened the little box containing the shiny ring. It hadn’t looked so smooth, or so solid, when Brett had showed it to her on the beach. She put it on her bed, open, like a calming beacon, while she dutifully went to her closet and pulled out her suitcase.
What should she take? Dad lived in Texas. It would be hot there. Much hotter than the Oregon coast. Except when it wasn’t, when it was freezing from all the air conditioning.
God, she hated this. Why couldn’t she just stay?
Nora drifted over toward her bed, where her ring awaited her.
She couldn’t take it. Couldn’t make any promises to Brett.
But she could at least try the ring on, once, to see how it fit?
Chapter Eight
Adele looked across the darkened night at her old friend, Cornelius. What was he doing out here? He never left the kingdom. “Stuffy” was his middle name, as the students might say. He looked fit. Younger than she’d remembered. He’d been using his wings, flying.
What had happened to her kingdom, to bring such a change?
“Queen Adele,” Cornelius said, greeting her oddly.
“Aren’t you happy to see your old ruler?” Adele asked, stung. She’d expected him to be more warm.
“Of course,” Cornelius said smoothly. He executed an old-fashioned genuflection in mid-air, gracefully bowing his head to her. “It’s just that..things have changed, since you disappeared. We must talk.”
“First, we get you to safety,” growled Thirza, hovering beside Cornelius. “How far is this other troop behind you?” she asked Garung.
Why weren’t they asking her? It had only been through her cunning that they’d been able to get here, finding areas to rest hidden from the warriors hot on their tail.
But before Adele could respond, Garung replied. “Maybe a quarter hour,” he guessed.
Adele nearly snorted. She could have told them exactly how far away the other warriors were, how many they were, and how they were armed. But no one was asking her.
“We’ll take care of them,” Cornelius promised grimly.
Adele felt as though the world was shifting without her willing it. What had happened to the smooth royal who would never get his hands dirty with such matters? “Get them safe,” he directed the warriors. “Now.”
Adele thought about protesting: She could defend herself. But it had been a long, long trip. Her wings ached, as did her sides. The thought of rest was overwhelming. Along with food and strong moon wine.
She would go hide with the rest of the students. But later, she and Cornelius would exchange more than words, if necessary.
* * *
Dale watched with growing horror as Nora tuned him and Mom out. She wasn’t responding to their questions, didn’t even seem to notice they were still in the room.
That damned ring held all her attention. Like the fairy machine had for him. It wasn’t until Nora had gifted him with her sight that he’d been able to see the magical chains that the fairies had used to bind him to it.
If Dale had magic, would he see the same chains forming between Nora and that damned ring?
He’d tease her about going all Frodo on him, but she’d take it wrong, he was sure. Start another argument.
When Mom called Nora on her shit, she still didn’t respond. Just played the part of the martyr.
“Mom, don’t,” Dale warned when Mom was about to go after her.
“Excuse me?” Mom said, turning her glare to Dale.
“It isn’t her. It’s that damned ring. Sorry,” he added.
“What ring?” Mom asked, confused.
“That blue box she’s holding? It contains a ring that Brett gave her,” Dale explained.
“She doesn’t want to get engaged to him, does she?” Mom asked, looking horrified.
Thank you! Dale wanted to shout. Someone else who finally realized that Brett wasn’t right for her. “The ring is originally from Old Eli, our former landlord. Who, according to Nora, wasn’t quite human.”
“Oh,” was all Mom had to say.
Great. Now he was going to have to explain that. “Look, she wouldn’t take the ring from Brett. Said it was slippery. Didn’t trust it. Now, since she’s brought it home, she’s acting all funny. I think it’s magic. I think it’s got some hold over her.”
“Then we should take it away from her,” Mom said determined.
“That might not be smart,” Dale said, wincing at the look Mom gave him. Jeez, he wasn’t the bad guy here. “We have to get her to give it to us. Then I’ll take it. Somewhere. Where she can’t get to it. At least for a while.”
“Are you saying that this ring may turn my own daughter against me?” Mom asked, her voice rising.
“Uhm, maybe?” Dale said. He wasn’t sure.
All he knew was that the ring wasn’t any good. And they needed to get it away from Nora.
Soon.
* * *
Dale followed Mom into Nora’s room. His sister stood in the middle of circle of project bags, cradling that damn ring to her chest and swaying, as if dancing with it.
Mom looked over her shoulder at Dale, as if asking, Okay, now what?
Nora looked possessed, her pupils blown wide, her face slack with a scary-ass smile. She glowed, too, though Dale didn’t know how much of that Mom saw. It wasn’t her usual white light, it was more a pale silver. It would have been cool looking, if Dale hadn’t known that it was absolutely wrong for Nora.
“Hey Nor, whatcha doing?” Dale asked, stepping into the room and slowly starting to walk toward his twin.
Nora looked up at him with dark brown eyes that seemed hazed over, clouded by silver. “You wouldn’t understand,” she sneered.
Dale knew better than to take anything his sister said personally. She wasn’t really herself right now.
“You’re probably right,” Dale admitted, stepping even closer. “Why don’t you tell me about it?�
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“No, I don’t think so,” Nora said. She took two quick steps back. “You’ve always been jealous of my powers. You’re merely a Tinker.”
Dale made himself laugh at Nora, watching her face fall going from sure superiority to uncertainty. “Why the hell would I be jealous? When all your powers mean this?” he said, gesturing widely to indicate Nora’s room. “This mess? This chaos? That’s all you’re capable of producing, you know. On your own. We need each other, to balance each other out. We work better as a team, you and me, not anyone else.”
Quickly, Dale stepped closer. “And that ring is just going to make everything messier, you know. Worse. Not better. Hand it over, Nor.”
For a moment, Dale thought his ploy might have worked, that Nora would listen to him. He’d never forget those brief minutes in the fairy kingdom when Nora had loaned him her powers to finish sabotaging the great clockwork, to destroy it.
However Nora quickly backed away again. “I just want to try it. To see how it fits. It won’t be bad. Promise. I just want a normal life, just to pretend for a few moments.”
Dale lunged, but it was too late.
Nora slipped on the ring.
The silver flared around Nora, flashing as brightly as the blue fairy magic.
Behind Dale, he heard his mom gasp.
Shit. Not again. This magic wasn’t going to destroy the battery in her pacemaker, like the fairy magic had?
But Mom still stood in the doorway to Nora’s room. She hadn’t fallen.
When Dale turned back, he barely recognized his sister. Her long black hair shone with its own dark light. Her nose had grown sharper, and her thin lips curled in a cruel smile. But it was her eyes that were most changed; instead of warm brown, they shone with a cold silver light.
“I have to go now,” Nora announced.
Dale shivered at the disdain those simple words held, at how unworthy he and Mom were in Nora’s presence.
Could Dale take the ring from Nora? He was bigger and stronger. Before he took a step toward her, she held up her hand. Cold power emanated from her, pushing him back.
He couldn’t take two steps toward her before he’d be flat on his ass.
Whatever power that ring had, it had transformed his sister into something more than merely a Maker.
“Where you going, Nor?” Dale asked quietly, his hands held up in surrender.
“To find my mate.”
Nora swept out of the room. Mom turned to follow her. Dale caught his mom’s arm to stop her.
“We’ll go after her,” he promised. “But we need help.”
“What do you mean?” Denise asked.
“I don’t have any magic,” Dale snapped. “Do you?”
“Excuse me?” Mom asked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Mom, this is much, much bigger and worse than either of us,” Dale said, sorry but not sorry. “We need help. Magical help.” Dale paused, then added, “If we can find that woman who contacted Nora, Mrs. Wentworth, that would be good. But she’s also dying.”
Dale marched into Nora’s room to her desk where he found the paper cup filled with the pieces of the magical stone that Nora had swept up from the driveway and not done anything with.
“We have other options, too,” Dale said, picking up the cup. “And we’re going to need all the help we can get.” Anticipation hollowed out his stomach. Chills ran up and down his spine.
At Mom’s grim nod, Dale marched from Nora’s room. The house felt colder without his sister’s bright light. Would the magical protections she’d put into place still work? Or were they gone, too, now that she was?
Dale went through the side door, out the back of the garage, and into the backyard. A full moon shone down and lit his way across the wet grass. Dale’s hands were shaking, and his heart pounded. It wasn’t just fear, no. Excitement filled him as well.
Dale didn’t want to be beholden to the fairies. But a part of him was excited at the thought of seeing them again, at maybe going back into the underground kingdom.
With a hard, overhand throw, Dale scattered the pieces of magic stone into the trees, off the edge of their property, beyond the row of protective Rowans.
“Cornelius,” Dale called into the night. “I need your help. Come to me.”
Then Dale turned, brushed past his mom, and marched into the house.
The fairy would be there soon. Dale had to be prepared.
* * *
Brett followed the elusive, old scent of that thrice-damned teacher into and out of half a dozen hotels. He didn’t bother going into the lobbies: He flowed faster than the human eye could see, following the breeze and rattling the windows, making the poor humans shiver.
She’d been effective, thinning out her trail. Had she pretended to be lost? Stopping and pretending to ask for directions every place? It was a clever strategy, he had to admit. Instead of tracking her to a single hotel, he found her scent everywhere. If she hadn’t been there long, or she’d changed hotels, he wouldn’t have been able to figure out where her scent was strongest.
But Brett needed to find her. Needed to stop her from teaching Nora anything. Nora’s strength had been what had attracted him in the first place. She’d pass all of that power and ability to his children, making them formidable indeed.
Once he bound her to his will.
Up ahead, at one of the most expensive hotels along the coast, the teacher’s scent pooled. Had she stopped there for dinner? Or was she staying in one of the nicer rooms?
It had to be the latter, he realized, as he was suddenly swimming in her scent.
Yes, she was sick. She didn’t have long.
Particularly not since he’d found her.
Brett pushed his way through the glass door, wiping his hands on his jeans after touching the cold metal. If there had been a way to stop the humans and their advance, he would have.
Brett set his will on the woman sitting behind the reception desk. Not only did he belong here, she wouldn’t remember him. The cameras were easily spoofed, until nothing of Brett remained in the lobby. Just a wind that made the windows rattle and the woman shiver.
The elevator down took longer than Brett liked, but he could only set his will so far. The bottom floor was thickly layered with the teacher’s scent, along with a weak attempt to cover it up with something false and mechanical.
Really? Had human Makers grown so arrogant that they believed machines were the response to magic?
Brett didn’t bother knocking on the door to the woman’s room. He opened it easily enough, despite the lock, sliding it closed after him.
An old woman sat in one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs on the far side of the bed. Her silver curls bristled with magic, and she wore a knotwork magical shawl over her shoulders. A single lamp sitting on one of the bedside tables left her half in shadow.
Brett looked beyond her frail human shell. Inside, she shone with a strong, steady light. She’d had such power, once. It was a shame she was so sick, a shame that he would have to snuff her out, like the others.
But she couldn’t interfere with his plans for Nora.
She didn’t look startled when he came in, or scared. She used the remote to turn off the TV blaring one of the local news programs and turned to face him.
“The monster, I presume?” she asked, a tired smile playing around her lips.
Brett cocked his head to one side, puzzled. “Monster? Why would you call me that?”
“Do you even remember how many Makers you’ve killed to protect Nora?” the teacher challenged.
She still didn’t rise from her seat. Odd. Or maybe she was saving her strength for the fight later.
Not that it would do any good.
“I’m not a monster,” Brett protested. “I just need Nora’s strength. Her magic.”
“Her life,” the woman said bluntly. “Yes, I’ve heard of your kind before. You’re an O’onakie. She’ll never survive childbirth. Your children are cannibals.”
Brett shrugged. “Not necessarily,” he said. Some mothers survived. The children didn’t eat their way out of the womb if they were birthed early enough. And they just needed to be kept far from the mother, at least for their first few ravenous weeks. It was why he always chose humans for mates. He wouldn’t risk one of his own in childbirth, not that any of them would have him, being as old as he was.
His age had made him powerful, at one time.
Now, he was starting to wane.
“You’re still a monster,” the teacher declared. “You’ve denied Nora her heritage. Prevented her from learning all she could, coming into her full potential.”
“Her full potential is to act as the mother to my children,” Brett told the woman coldly. “Not that it’s any of your business. How did you get through to her?” he asked reasonably.
“Tour bus,” the woman said. “And a sleeping draught that brought me across the border without clawing my eyes out. Gave me interesting nightmares,” she added.
Brett shrugged. He’d have to strengthen his spells, if he could, against any further attempts, drive out all those with even a drop of Maker blood, make it impossible for them to stay.
But only if Nora didn’t survive, of course.
“You can’t be allowed to teach her anything,” Brett said seriously.
The teacher gave him a crooked smile. “Do your worst,” she challenged.
Brett hesitated. Was this a trap?
Then he shook his head. None of the Makers had the strength to damage one of his kind magically. Any physical attack would show just how invulnerable he actually was.
Brett flowed around the bed, as fast as a gale wind, his hands like claws, slicing through the teacher’s flesh. He didn’t want to just drain her spark—that seemed almost rude after talking with her, after seeing her warmth.
But striking her was like striking air.
The image in front of him wavered, then solidified. The woman still sat there, giving him a rueful smile.
It was just an illusion. It wasn’t really the teacher at all.