The Maker, the Teacher, and the Monster

by Leah Cutter

  And once he’d taken care of Nora and the teacher, he could turn his attention back on the fairies. And possibly Nora’s brother as well.

  * * *

  Nora found, to her relief, that she could knit on the bus. She’d always gotten carsick while knitting and doing knotwork in a car, but a bus seemed different. Besides being bigger, it didn’t seem to sway as much as a car.

  If Nora could just focus on her work, she could stop worrying for at least two minutes at a time. Like, would Brett be fooled by their trick? Would Nora be able to escape his territory? She didn’t think he’d ever be able to control her again, but Mrs. Wentworth had warned that he was very, very powerful, particularly in his own kingdom.

  What would happen to Dale? Mom had mentioned that he’d stay in Port City, go to the technical college there. In her heart, Nora knew that was probably the right choice for him. He hadn’t really ever wanted to leave Port City.

  She’d have to remember to tease him about being such a mama’s boy.

  How long would Mrs. Wentworth have? She said she’d be able to protect Nora’s dad. And though he was a pig, and had kidnapped Dale, he’d still stepped up to do the right thing.

  Nora’s phone buzzed once with a text, “Exchange successful. Dale safe,” when Mrs. Wentworth had taken off with their dad.

  Finally, a second text came. “Winds are here.”

  Brett had found Mrs. Wentworth. And had let her live. At least for now.

  Nora didn’t know when Brett would find her. She’d be ready for him, though. He’d never be able to bend her to his will.

  There might be tears. Nora had loved him. Or what she’d seen of him. If he hadn’t turned out to be a monster, she might have even loved the creature he truly was.

  Mrs. Wentworth had promised that there would be teachers for Nora, waiting for her when she got off the bus.

  Despite how abruptly Nora had had to leave her family, her life, all that she’d known, she was still looking forward to that. To finally being able to fully learn her magic.

  As the cliché went, this was the first day of the rest of her life.

  She couldn’t wait to get started.

  Epilogue

  Brett watched Nora get off the bus. The back of the terminal was a small parking lot, surrounded by other buildings, hemmed in on all sides by concrete and man-made things. Too many people waited to greet the passengers, or for their own seat on the bus. The stench of humanity and their foul machines clogged Brett’s sinuses.

  Before Brett could get to Nora, two teachers, a man and a woman, walked up to her, smiling, taking her into their fold.

  Protecting her with their magic.

  Brett had seen them standing there, a younger woman and an older, bearded man. He’d let them be, however.

  He was outside of his own territory, though none of his kind had claimed this area.

  If Brett was honest with himself, he was considerably weaker than he’d anticipated. It had been centuries since he’d ventured outside his own borders. He’d had no idea how much he relied on his own lands and winds to sustain him.

  How old, how ancient, he felt, outside of them.

  Despite that, Nora wasn’t safe here. Brett was determined to get to her. He didn’t have to make a move, though.

  Nora, once she saw him, made a beeline toward him.

  The two other Makers didn’t try to stop her. Interesting. Did they think they could really stop him, if he tried to escape with her? Despite how weak he felt?

  “You know, if I thought a restraining order would do any good, I’d go apply for one,” Nora told him angrily.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Brett told her with a smile. He breathed in her scent. It still held a part of him, and would, for a good long time. Her hearthfires were warm as well, and soothed his aching bones.

  “I’m not going with you,” Nora told him.

  “But you will be mine,” Brett assured her.

  Surprisingly, that didn’t put a dent in her confidence. It should have. He’d captured, tasted her soul. She’d never be able to get fully away from him.

  Instead, Nora just laughed at him. “Yeah, right, buddy,” she said. “Just try it.” Suddenly, a rope slipped around his neck, closing tightly across his throat. “You’ve hurt my training. You killed my grandparents. You coerced me into doing your bidding.” Nora shuddered. “I will kill you first.”

  It took Brett another moment to pull the thread from his throat. Nora had been clever slipping it into the air, letting the wind take it to him.

  He would have to watch out for that.

  “You aren’t strong enough to stop me, my dear,” Brett assured her. God, the fire in her was so delicious.

  “She isn’t alone anymore,” said the female teacher from over Nora’s shoulder.

  “Together, we are strong enough,” the male assured him.

  Brett looked from one determined face to the next, to the next.

  They were all turned against him.

  “I won’t say goodbye,” he told Nora, taking a step back and giving her a bow from another time and place. “But fare thee well.” Then he flowed away.

  He would have to rethink his strategies. Find a better time and place to approach the Maker. Figure out what guile it would take to trick her.

  Because he wasn’t about to let her go just yet.

  * * *

  Kostya tottered through the long grass, going toward the entrance of his tunnels. The sun beat down on his balding head. He was too far inland to be cooled by the ocean breezes, though the gulls still gave their piteous cries nearby. Exhaustion dogged him, making every step a chore.

  Soon, though, it would all be over. His revenge would spring on the unwary, grinding everything to death in its sharp teeth. He’d just sent his last report to the dwarven kingdom, spun full of lies and half-truths, all to manipulate the king into doing Kostya’s bidding.

  Almost everything was in place. Kostya just had one or two more traps to set, that would either be found by the other dwarves, or would spring on the unsuspecting fairies when they tried to flee. As well as a couple of nasty surprises for the Maker and the Tinker. The Mother, too, unless she left this area.

  Kostya paused a few feet from the entrance, casting a wary eye on the door. The spiderwebs he’d set in place were still there, floating easily. No one had disturbed the rocks he’d used to block the path, not since he’d left.

  Good. The fairies would come for him soon enough, but he was happy to have a few more days.

  Kostya took another deep breath of the clean air before stepping into the darkened hallway.

  Rough hands grabbed Kostya’s arms and a sharp knife pressed hard against his belly. He kicked out with all his strength, fighting blindly, trying to free himself.

  “I’ll prick you where you stand, pig,” came a dark voice. “Struggle more and die here and now.”

  Kostya couldn’t help but to struggle a bit more, trying to free his arms. When the knife cut sharply into his abdomen, he stopped.

  “See? Even a dwarf can be taught to listen,” came a chuckling voice.

  Cornelius. And the fairies. “How did you get in?” Kostya asked as his eyes adjusted to the dark tunnel. The tall royal had forgone his hat, but he still had to hunch over in the small tunnel, his head bowed so it wouldn’t brush against the rough rock ceiling. Behind him, the hall held a legion of fairies, as well as the comforting collection of items Kostya had accumulated: broken dolls heads, spools of wire, two molding bags of feathers, half a dozen broken radios and a collection of mismatched tiles.

  “Do you really think you’re the only one who is a master of illusion?” Cornelius chided Kostya. “We’ve had you under observation for days.”

  Kostya didn’t believe him. “Then you know I don’t mean you any harm,” Kostya lied.

  “Mean us harm? What does that matter? You’ve already caused us harm,” Cornelius told him. “Blowing up the great machinery.”

  “Wher
e is Queen Adele?” Kostya asked. She should be here, gloating over his capture.

  “She’s been compromised,” Cornelius said sternly. “And is as welcome in this kingdom as you are.”

  Kostya really wanted to hear that story. It was enough, though, that she’d been banished, even if that meant she might fall outside the circle of his revenge.

  “So what do you plan to do with me?” Kostya asked.

  “You’ve already been condemned to death,” Cornelius told him. “A death to be executed immediately.”

  “And then what?” Kostya asked. “The old one will still come and hunt you down, drive you out of his territory. And when you’re outside, shivering in the dark woods, the dwarves will fall on you.”

  “What?” Cornelius asked.

  “Give me one hand, and a few more seconds,” Kostya told him.

  Cornelius nodded.

  Kostya found his right arm freed. He reached up slowly and removed the mask.

  The fairies gasped. The magic still worked. He wasn’t fully invisible—they knew he was there. But he’d faded before their very eyes.

  “Your kingdom has been compromised,” Kostya told Cornelius with relish. “The king of the dwarves sent me back as a messenger.” The fool had wanted peace. “When I don’t return, his forces will fall on you like a merciless hammer.” That much the king had promised.

  The king had just never realized how ill Kostya really had been, how the lack of Kostya’s return wasn’t an “if” but a “when.”

  “Kill me at your own risk,” Kostya taunted Cornelius.

  The tall royal barred his teeth. “Tell us of your treachery.”

  “No,” Kostya said plainly. He shoved the knife pressing against his skin into his own throat, slicing it open with exquisite pain. “The trap is all around you,” he managed to whisper as the dark tunnel started to fade.

  No matter where the fairies ran, Kostya had set traps for them: in the forest, in the tunnels, along the cliffs, through their own kingdom, everywhere. They were all hidden, invisible to the fairies. Only some were visible to the dwarves, even. Even the Maker’s house had been marked for “attention” by the dwarves as well.

  It had cost Kostya all his energy. The rest of his life.

  After the dwarves came, they wouldn’t be able to reclaim the territory—there was nothing Kostya or even the dwarven king could do about the decree of the old one.

  But Kostya would have his revenge. All of those who had killed his dear wife so long ago, and had caused him to burn in his own tunnels, would die. The other dwarves would see to it.

  Kostya coughed, laughed, and then died himself, completing his act of revenge.

  About the Author

  Leah Cutter currently lives in Seattle—the land of coffee and fog. However, she's also lived all over the world and held the requisite odd writer jobs, such as doing archeology work in England, teaching English in Taiwan, and bartending in Thailand.

  She writes fantasy set in exotic times and locations such as Tang dynasty China, WWII Budapest, rural Louisiana, and the Oregon coast.

  Her short fiction includes literary, fantasy, mystery, science fiction, and horror, and has been published in magazines as well as anthologies and on the web.

  Read more stories by Leah Cutter at www.KnottedRoadPress.com.

  Follow her blog at www.LeahCutter.com.

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