by Leah Cutter
By the time Dale put away the last dish, he was grinding his teeth. He didn’t want to hear about Kostya’s long feud with the fairies. All he wanted to know was how to destroy them.
***
Chris could barely contain his excitement. He was going to see his son! He hadn’t really doubted Robert, or thought the photos had been spoofed. While a gentleman always paid his debts, it was all right to slide a little when dealing with people like Robert. He looked like a crooked accountant, with black-rimmed glasses and a cheap white shirt. The few times Chris had gotten the private investigator to talk, it had been all about the horses or the latest baseball scores. A gentleman might make a side bet, but Robert had a problem. Chris paying him would be enabling Robert’s gambling habit—so, by not paying him, Chris was actually helping him.
Robert’s car was both what Chris expected and a surprise: a ratty old foreign-made vehicle, but meticulously clean on the inside, with an engine that purred. Chris didn’t want to ride with Robert, but the man had given him no choice. Plus, they had no time to argue. School let out at noon that day.
“This will be the best way to see him,” Robert told Chris earnestly as he tore out of the parking lot. “Last day of school. It’s going to be a zoo.”
Chris nodded. Robert was smarter than Chris had given him credit. It wouldn’t matter if Chris knew where his son’s school was, not if today was the last day.
“No getting out of the car. No talking with him,” Robert warned.
Chris easily agreed, knowing there was nothing Robert could do to stop him.
The town looked pretty enough. He knew Denise would love the large planters of flowers on the sidewalk of Main Street, as well as the quaint shops. They’d shared that love of small towns and quiet communities. It didn’t surprise Chris that she’d landed here.
Just past the business district, Robert turned down a side street. Houses with proper lawns lined the street, many flying the flag. Chris approved. If only Denise had told him just how unhappy she’d been in L.A., he would have moved to someplace like this, as long as he could have found a job as high-paying as his one there.
After a few more turns, the streets grew wider, with boulevards full of thick grass and huge old trees. Chris heard the school before he saw it—a hundred exuberant voices shouting their freedom.
Big yellow school buses lined the long side of the street. Robert drove past them, turned the corner, then pulled into an empty space. He handed Chris a pair of binoculars. “Now, be careful. Cops in these parts get twitchy about guys watching kids from their car. Dale’s bus is the second from the end.”
Eagerly, Chris searched for his son. He was easy to pick out from the milling boys, with his tow-blond hair—the same color Chris’ had been when he’d been growing up.
Dale didn’t look any older, or even that much bigger than the last time Chris had seen him. He talked earnestly with two of his friends—a black kid and a tall, brooding boy. Chris smiled. Of course his son could make friends with anyone. He might act shy or sensitive sometimes, but that was just his mother’s bad influence.
Chris put down the binoculars and reached for the door. He had to go see Dale, talk with him, now. However, the car was already moving.
“Cops,” Robert said shortly. “Saw one headed our way.”
Chris turned and looked through the rear window. A cop now stood directly across the street from where they’d been parked, looking at them. Deflated, Chris turned back. He’d really wanted to talk to Dale. However, maybe it would be better if he could see his son alone, someplace more private, first. He stayed deep in his thoughts on the way back to the restaurant, considering and ditching plans for arranging such a meeting.
When they arrived, Robert grabbed his pile of folders from the backseat. “Schedules, more photos, cell phone numbers, everything you need to find your son, talk with him, and persuade him to come with you.”
Chris’ mouth watered. Everything he wanted was in his reach. “Robert, you are doing the Lord’s work, you know that? I’m not only going to write you a check, I’m giving you a ten-percent bonus as a finder’s fee.”
For a moment Chris thought Robert would protest. The original fee had been a cashier’s check, and Robert had asked for the rest like that as well. However, after a moment Robert smiled and nodded. “Sure, that’ll be great.”
Chris pulled out the checkbook from his jacket pocket. He’d closed the account when he’d left L.A., draining the balance. The check would bounce harder than a rubber ball on concrete.
After Chris handed over the check, Robert handed over the files.
“Son, I owe you one. You ever in L.A., you look me up.” Chris handed Robert a business card from the job he no longer had. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He shook Robert’s hand one last time, then got out of the car.
As Chris walked back to his car, Robert rolled down his window. “When the check clears, you’ll get the address to the house,” he called out.
“You son of a—” Chris turned and ran back toward Robert. However, Robert was already racing out of the parking lot.
Fuming, Chris sat in his car and leafed through the folders Robert had given him. He should have expected the double cross. What good did his son’s class schedule do him when school had let out for the summer?
Well, two of them could play the tracking game. How many hotels were there in a town with fewer than ten thousand people? Chris would just have to find Robert and take what was his.
***
Dale sat uncomfortably on Nora’s messy bed. The wall he leaned against was too cold, but he didn’t want to sit up straight. When he rested his head it relaxed his neck, which had started to thrum with pain. Nora sat next to him, fiddling with some yarn.
“The kinds of magic humans can do is divided roughly into three categories,” Kostya said as he walked, stopping to pick up a battered bag from the floor and looking at it curiously. “Most are Ghost Herders. They deal with the past. Haunted places and calling spirits.” He put the bag down and wandered over to the pile of knitting needles, testing the point of one. “The next largest group are the Fortune Tellers. They deal with the future. They use palms, cards, entrails, candle wax, even clouds to see what is coming.”
Kostya picked up Nora’s Franken-sweater off the back of her desk chair next, tracing his fingers over the different parts. He grinned at Nora. “Very good.”
Dale cleared his throat, impatient. He didn’t care about humans and magic. How did they fight the fairies?
“The Makers, the humans with magic that deals with the present, are the rarest of all.”
“You said I’m a Maker,” Nora said.
Dale clenched his fists. He did, but didn’t, want to hear about his sister’s magic.
“Makers transform things. Grass into rope. A cup of water into rain. A leaf into a tree, or even a forest.”
“Lead into gold!” Nora exclaimed.
“No, no, that’s just a myth,” Kostya said, shaking his head. “It has a piece of truth, like most myths. It’s impossible to turn lead into gold. They’re not alike.”
“Why did the rope Nora made turn back into grass so quickly?” Dale asked, interested in spite of himself.
“Your sister is young, untrained,” Kostya explained, fingering the collection of rocks on Nora’s desk. “The transformation was temporary, only a few moments, and only while she still held on. As she gets older and stronger, she’ll be able to transform something permanently.”
Nora looked at Dale. He saw unexpected fear in her eyes. Nora didn’t want this ability. He nodded. She reached out and squeezed his knee once, quickly. Her hands were still uncomfortably warm.
“What about the fairies?” Dale asked.
Kostya sighed. “Thaddeus was the Master Tinker in Queen Adele’s kingdom. Also her husband. As you know, all proper clockwork needs jeweled bearings.”
Dale nodded. Grandpa Lewis had had what looked like a tiny egg carton, with different si
zed jeweled bearings in each cup.
“We dwarfs are known for our mining. Thaddeus used my gems.” Kostya poked at the collection of necklaces hanging on Nora’s dresser, tutting. Dale suppressed a grin. Nora liked bright beads, not real jewels.
Kostya continued. “We had a misunderstanding. Thaddeus refused to pay me for some gems. I grew angry and said regrettable things, then stole valuable equipment for my payment.” The dwarf closed his eyes and held himself still. “Now, Thaddeus is dead and I can never speak to him again.” He opened his eyes and looked at the floor. “A tunnel collapsed while he was in it. The fairies think I weakened it, somehow made it fall.”
“So you think the fairies are good?” Nora asked, puzzled.
“But the fairies kidnapped me!” Dale exclaimed. “How can they be good?”
“They’re just desperate,” Kostya explained gently. “The great machinery of their kingdom needs a Master Tinker’s hand. And you have great potential.”
“Am I a Maker?” Dale asked, confused.
“No, no,” Kostya said. “You have an innate understanding of how things work.”
“But they kidnapped me.” Dale clung stubbornly to the thought.
“That was Queen Adele’s mistake, sending warriors out. There are different races of fairies, just as there are different races of humans and dwarfs.”
Dale nodded cautiously. That made sense. Then he stopped. The movement made his neck hurt.
“Don’t be surprised if Queen Adele tries to talk with you next,” Kostya said.
“I won’t talk with her,” Dale said.
“That’s your choice, of course,” Kostya said, rocking back on his heels. “Still, I wish you would reconsider.”
“What?” Why would that sneaky dwarf want him to talk to the fairies?
“Let me help you, instead,” Kostya said, stepping toward the bed. His strange eyes bored into Dale. “Work with the Queen. Rebuild their machines. Let me provide you with the jewels. Then, when you’re finished, you can tell the Queen how I helped. Maybe...maybe she’ll forgive me.”
“I don’t know,” Dale said. He didn’t want to work with the fairies. He didn’t want to continue meeting with Kostya. The clockwork interested him, but that was all.
Nora squeezed his leg briefly. “Think about it?”
Dale looked at Nora. The promise of talking later, just the two of them, shone in her eyes. “All right. I will.”
Kostya beamed at them. “Good. Very good.”
***
After the twins had left to talk, Kostya pulled a pillow out from Nora’s tangled sheets and put it in the corner. He wouldn’t be seen immediately if the door opened. Once settled, he chuckled quietly to himself. He couldn’t believe his luck. This plan was so much better than merely killing the human Tinker.
While the twins had been eating, Kostya had strengthened the illusion of his appearance as well as adding another very thin spell—anyone who heard his words would be inclined to believe them. It wasn’t an absolute belief spell. Kostya didn’t have the power or natural talent for that. Fairies did, and Kostya would have to warn the twins about it.
While telling his tale, Kostya had maintained the thinnest line of truth through it. When the fairies had arrived more than a century before and had started carving out space for their kingdom in the cliffs, they’d run across a hidden hoard of Kostya’s jewels. They’d promptly stolen them, and Thaddeus had used them in his clockwork.
Kostya had demanded their return. The fairies had laughed at him. He hadn’t lied when he’d said they were natural enemies. He’d stolen equipment from them in recompense, some of their tunnel-making gear.
When the fairies had attacked Kostya’s home, they’d injured both Kostya and Galina, his dear wife. The dwarfs had escaped, made a new home in a different cave, then started plotting their revenge.
However, Galina grew ill. Kostya didn’t know if her wounds had never healed properly, or if it had been something else the fairies had done. Though dwarfs weren’t known for their herb lore, Kostya had picked up a thing or two. He knew some Kosta Zie grew on top of a far hillside. It was good for injuries and brought down swelling. It was rare in the New World, fragile, preferring shade.
All of it was gone. Kostya blamed the fairies. They knew herb lore and had stripped the land bare.
Of course, the encroaching humans might have taken it, ripping out the brilliant blue flowers to take home without realizing they were destroying the entire plant. Kostya still blamed the fairies when his wife died.
Now, Kostya would have his revenge. The boy had no magic. He wouldn’t know when Kostya supplied him with a jewel that did something extra. His sister might realize something, though, so Kostya would have to be extra careful.
The dwarf rocked back and forth as he thought. A series of jewels, each with the tiniest spark of magic buried deep inside. They would mean nothing by themselves. Together, with a touch of fairy magic, necessary to power the machine? They’d explode beautifully, killing not only all the fairies, but the kingdom itself.
Chapter Six
Robert’s hands shook as he drove away, pushing his car to the limit. The check in his shirt pocket burned his chest.
Chris had lied about everything.
He didn’t want his family back, just his son. The certainty that Chris’ check would bounce rolled like a heavy weight through Robert’s stomach. Chris’ business card had clinched it—there was no way Chris would ever invite someone like Robert to his home or his office. It had to be fake as well.
Anger boiled through Robert. He couldn’t go to the check cashing store. He would never knowingly pass bad paper. His anger rose higher when he realized he also had no money for the races now.
Instead of going to his hotel, Robert turned onto the interstate. Driving always helped him think.
How could he verify the check was real? How would Chris burn him? At least Robert had lied to him about it being the last day of school. Robert prayed Chris wouldn’t find out about that.
Robert also had his insurance. He patted the pen in his pocket. He’d been very deliberate and had selected his words carefully as he’d handed over the folders. He hoped it was enough to use against Chris as blackmail if he ever needed to.
Finally, after eighty miles, Robert had a plan. He stopped at a large, well-equipped truck stop, complete with showers and banks of pay phones. Robert found the number for Chris’ bank, then called them. He guessed that Chris had paid him from a closed account—he just needed verification.
Using his best southern drawl, Robert said, “Hi there, young lady. How y’all doing today?”
“Fine, thanks for asking. How can I help you today?”
“I’m calling to make sure everything’s finished with my account.” Robert read off the number.
“Yes, that account’s closed,” the teller confirmed.
“Thank you kindly,” Robert said, maintaining his character, though his hands had started shaking again. “Y’all have a lovely day.”
“Thank you. You too.”
Robert hung up the phone and went back to his car. He had no money and a scumbag for a client. He’d already burned through his advance. If only his luck weren’t so rotten.
Would confronting Chris get him to pay up? No. Chris was in town now, too close. He might be able to find his son on his own. He wasn’t dumb.
Denise and the kids were just going to have to move again. Then Robert could string Chris along, saying he knew where they’d gone. It would be a lie, of course. Robert would never track that family again. Particularly not for Chris.
Maybe Denise would cover Robert’s fee, or maybe she’d pay him to keep them hidden.
Humming, Robert got back on the interstate. He wasn’t that hungry. If he had only a hamburger for dinner, he could make a small bet. Enough bad things had already happened to him that day. Good luck was sure to come his way now.
***
“Dale, you should go meet with Queen Adele,”
Nora said excitedly as she closed the door to his room. The desk in the corner had a box of gears open, and tools spilled across it—the only sign of life as far as Nora was concerned. Even Dale’s bed was made. She went over to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer.
“Hey!” Dale said, walking over and closing it. “I don’t go digging through your things.”
“I was just checking to see if you were still human,” Nora said, grinning. “Messy sock drawer means you pass.”
Dale rolled his eyes and sat down in his desk chair. Nora jumped on the bed, purposefully bouncing just so she could get Dale to sigh and shake his head at her. “Are you sure you’re the elder twin?” he asked as he started putting his tools away.
“Yes,” Nora said. She paused, suddenly feeling shy. She looked down at the bedspread and started plucking imaginary fibers. “Do you think...do you think it’s true? That I have magic?” She made herself look up at Dale. He looked puzzled.
“Nor, I’ve already seen you do magic.”
“But—” Nora started, then stopped. How could she admit to not wanting this? Everyone wanted this kind of power, to be special this way.
Nora had always believed that her specialness was something else.
“But what?” Dale asked. He sounded impatient.
“Nothing,” Nora said, looking back at the bed again.
“But what, Nor?” Dale asked again, this time more gently.
“But what if I don’t want to do magic?” Nora steeled herself for Dale’s derision. Being an artist meant being different in a way she understood. Magic meant being something strange, possibly important, and maybe never, ever finding a family and fitting in. Magic to Nora was power, a fire that could burn everything, including all her hopes and dreams.
Instead, Dale said, “Then don’t.”