Ironspark

by C. M. McGuire

  What did I want to learn about? My mind flicked through everything like a slideshow. Mum. The woman in the gray dress. Even spying on them … but none of those felt quite right. It was like, even in my thoughts, I ran into a brick wall.

  I licked my lips and let it come to me. “Show me what they want.”

  The soft whirr of stringed instruments filled the dark around me. I stepped forward. Leaves crunched under my bare feet, pricking at my unprotected soles. No steel-toed boots. I wiggled my toes and glanced around as the skeletal outlines of unfamiliar trees materialized from the shadows. The spice of burnt honey and something too sharp washed over me, enough to make me gag. I forced myself to take another step. This wasn’t real. This was just a dream.

  A huge table swam into view before me, spread with exactly what I’d expect at a fall feast. Candied fruits, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, apples, great bowls of honey and milk, fresh bread, bottle after bottle of wine, and, in the center of it all, a perfectly roasted suckling pig. Fae of every kind milled about, their actions mimicking a casual conversation, but every pair of large, luminous eyes was fixed on me. And there, in a clearing lit by moonlight, stood a tiny woman dressed in splendid robes of sapphire and violet studded with dewdrops, her magnificent crown perched atop her great mane of dark hair.

  My stomach growled. I bit my cheek. Just a dream. That food wasn’t real.

  The tiny queen swept in front of the table and extended her arms, her little lips pulling into a perfect half-moon smile.

  “Come, child,” she cooed. “Come and warm yourself. Fill your empty stomach. Rest your weary body.”

  She waved her hands. Instantly, flames burst around the clearing in a tidy, contained ring. Behind the table, a trio of hags picked up their instruments again. One played an odd flute that seemed to be made of horns. Another snapped her gnarled fingers against some form of drum while the last one sawed away at a mix between a fiddle and a mousetrap. The music pierced my ears, and for a second, I couldn’t think of anything else. But only for a second.

  With a shuddering breath, I began to pick my way across the clearing, my eyes fixed on the little queen. “This is nice and all, but I was hoping we could talk one-on-one.” I clenched my fists. “You’ve sent a drone and a bendith after me. So here I am. What do you want?”

  Her eyes flashed with danger or amusement—I didn’t know which. I didn’t want to know. She strutted behind the table, her eyes on me.

  “First, allow me to repay you for your pains. Come. Eat. Warm yourself. In this clearing, you will know only my hospitality.”

  My stomach rumbled, and in spite of myself, my eyes flicked to the bread. The sweet, rich smells of everything on that table tickled my nostrils and made my mouth water. Not real. Not real. I swallowed. “You must think I’m some kind of stupid.”

  “Young,” she hummed. “Inexperienced. But far from stupid. Not many humans could do what you have done. I must commend you.” She tilted her head to the side, and from the folds of her dress, she pulled out the book. My heart jumped into my throat. I had to catch my breath as she set it on the table, nestled right between the pomegranates and round, perfect pumpkins. No. Mum’s book was safely back on my bed, where I really was.

  The queen’s dark eyes darted up to me, her lips twisting into a smile, more wicked than clever, as she flipped it open. “I once gave your mother a book very like this one. A pity she cursed it against our kind. Very ungrateful of her.”

  I wanted to heave a sigh of relief. I wanted to recoil in horror. Without realizing I was doing it, my lips parted and my traitor voice whispered: “How do you know my mother?”

  “Oh, my dear,” she tutted, running her fingers over the cover of the book, and for just a moment, she looked softer. Almost maternal in the warm light of the fire. “Your mother was mine.”

  “A human can’t belong to anyone.”

  Her eyes flicked up to me. “You should study your history, child. Do you think me so evil for claiming her when all of human history is marred by slavery? War? Poverty? Humans have used other humans as things as long as humans have existed. At least I cared for her.” She stepped closer, her robes trailing along the leaves and grasses. Fae and fairies stumbled back to give her way. She reached out, brushing her small fingers against my hair. I started back, my hand going to my chest, but I clutched only fabric. My nail was gone!

  She gave me a pitying look. “Or perhaps you know the evils of your own species. That’s why you think so ill of me. But she was no slave to me. She was my pupil. My handmaiden. Angareth was like a daughter to me.”

  My heart started to pound again. I had to take a few deep breaths to stop my voice from trembling. “My mother’s name was Karen.”

  “So she said.” The little queen cocked her head, folding her hands in front of her. “I think today you would call it witness protection?”

  “And…” I swallowed, my gut squirming. “And what exactly did she witness?”

  “Ha!” She threw her head back so far, it was a miracle that huge crown of hers didn’t topple right off. “Perhaps I used the wrong word. She was simply hiding from me. The fool fell in love. Pitiful.” She shook her head. “Centuries of searching for the descendants promised to me, and the only one I could track down was a little deserter.”

  I bristled, but at least I had the presence of mind not to rise to the bait. Not totally, anyway. “Descendants of whom, exactly?”

  “Oh, just a hapless human who didn’t think about consequences.” The queen sighed and positively glided over to the table, leaning against it, but it didn’t come across quite right. It was like a hungry tiger lounging in front of a rabbit. So that was it. Mum had been her prisoner. Her servant. Her … her child, it sounded like.

  But Mum met Dad. Did he know what she’d risked to be with him? I wasn’t totally sure what I ought to feel toward her … but it wasn’t quite anger. Not anymore. It felt like a punch to the gut. I wanted to gag. I had to hold it in. I’d never really known my mum.

  No. Of course not. I’d just been a kid! It hadn’t been her fault she hadn’t told me everything. It was this bitch who’d taken Mum’s happy life from her. From all of us. I clenched my jaw and turned back to face her.

  “So you get to ruin all our lives because some asshole years ago promised you, what, us?”

  The queen’s lips stretched across her pale face, her canines uncommonly sharp behind that wicked smile. “Understand, this isn’t personal. Think of this as your birthright. You and your brothers were promised the power and privilege I can offer centuries before your birth. And I always keep my promises. Whatever the cost.”

  I glanced out at the woods. No hawthorn. No rowan. And certainly no iron or salt at the table. Nothing here would defend me if I tried to run. I stepped carefully, my hands tucked behind my back, as the heat from the burning ring of underbrush rolled over me. And that’s when it hit me. Of course. I bit my cheek, worrying my blistered palm with my thumb until it stabbed with pain. “I knew you wanted the boys. Twins are said to be magically potent.”

  “Not just said to be,” the queen scoffed, pushing herself off the table. “Your ill education betrays you, child.”

  “Whatever.” I licked my dry lips and forced myself to take a step forward. “I’m not my mum. My name is Bryn Johnson, and you don’t own me or my brothers.”

  The queen bit her lip, her eyes glittering. She offered me her hand. “I know. You must call me Mab. Queen of dreams and ruler of the Unseelie court.”

  Mab. I blinked.

  “You mean … Romeo and Juliet? The fairy midwife.”

  Mab’s perfect half-moon smile reversed direction. Her eyes grew frosty. “Suffice to say, that is not the way I intended to be remembered. I was a midwife, but the bendith took over those duties after I took the throne.”

  A Shakespearean fairy. A Shakespearean fairy who wasn’t even in the play about the fairies. She was the tiny bug lady from a monologue in Romeo and Juliet. That’s who was responsibl
e for everything. A giggle threatened to burst out of me. I barely managed to push it back down.

  Mab folded her hands in front of her and, like a switch, all the humor inside of me dried up.

  “I propose an exchange,” Mab said tartly. “I could let you see her again. I know how you’ve longed for your mother, Bryn. Trade the burden of your brothers for a mother’s love.”

  That was how they thought, wasn’t it? Trading people like things. My heart throbbed, but I wouldn’t go there. I wouldn’t think of Mum right now. I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palm, stinging as they broke the skin. It was all I could do not to wince.

  “No deal,” I spat.

  “You need your mother’s guidance,” Mab crooned. “You’ve had to play the part of the mother in your family for far too long.”

  This actual bitch.

  “Shut the hell up.” I took another step forward, and what the hell? It was worth a shot. I took a deep breath and hurled myself at her. The bogles and Fae gathered around the table jerked toward me, their arms extended, but not before I shoved my iron-blooded hand against Mab’s perfect, snowy cheek.

  A clap like thunder slammed into me and pain burst through my head. My back hit the earth, leaves crunching beneath me as my breath hissed out. Mab lunged forward. Her dainty hand closed around my throat. In the disconnected way of someone about to die, all I could think was that, somehow, she was even lovelier in her fury, like a venomous snake.

  Her tiny fingers pressed against my jugular, her dark eyes burning like coals. Then the world shifted around me, all the colors melting into dull gray, then sharp silver. The leaves under my back gave way to cool glass. The Unseelie courtiers faded away into nothing, leaving only the two of us as everything in the world hardened into a never-ending wood of mirrors. Oh God. We were in a dream. How in God’s good name was I going to make it out of this? I needed to wake up. I needed to wake up!

  Mab’s fingers tightened around my throat. I choked, black spots dancing before my eyes.

  “That was bold,” Mab snarled. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to do better.”

  She flung me through the air. I sucked in what breath I could a second before I crashed into the glassy world surrounding us. I tried to push myself up … but something caught my eye.

  A dark-haired girl in a dirty dress, her skin as pale as snow. Sickly blue blood seeped from her ruined palm. And there, crouching on the ground under a tall, gnarled tree, was the beautiful Fae prince.

  “No!” I shrieked, pushing myself to my feet.

  Mab paced across the mirror wood like a lioness stalking its prey, her dewdrops shimmering, her figure reflected in a thousand trees stretching out in every direction.

  “I own this place,” Mab crowed, puffing out her chest. “I own your dreams. You think your life has been a matter of coincidence?”

  “You cannot control me!” I shouted, clenching my fist, focusing on the red blood that trickled between my fingers. “These are my dreams. This is my life. You can’t own it!”

  “Can I not?” Mab flipped her hands. The woods rippled around us so violently I almost lost my footing. And … oh God. My heart nearly stopped. There he was, slumped against a tree, blue blood seeping through his ribs, pooling around him. Mab swept up to the prince’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. He gazed up at her, his handsome lips pulling into a smile. “Where do you think his wound came from?”

  My breath caught in my throat. “He almost died…”

  “And how lucky I knew to trust in the charity of a child.” Mab smiled and pressed a kiss to the prince’s temple. His grin widened and he rose, towering over her. The flow of blood from his wound stopped, as though it had never been. My hands flew to my mouth. It hadn’t been random. It hadn’t been just my stupidity. All of this, every second of it, had been her wretched plan.

  The prince took one step forward, poised as a ballet dancer, and something inside of me snapped. I leapt forward and slapped my bloody hand across his perfect, alabaster cheek. A horrible, inhuman cry filled the wood as the prince staggered back. His skin popped and sizzled, awful purplish welts raising on his cheek.

  “Bitch!” he spat, swiping out with one arm. I ducked, scrambling just out of his reach.

  “Look who’s talking,” I snapped. “So, you’re just her pet?”

  The prince’s face contorted with rage, but Mab rested one tiny hand on his shoulder, her brow raised.

  “Such violence against one of my most delicate creatures,” she remarked. “Perhaps I ought to have surrounded myself by redcaps. Iron doesn’t bother them. They like blood.”

  “Pity you’ve only got him.”

  “Not only him, child. But he is my favorite with humans.” Mab sighed and patted the prince’s shoulder. “He does appeal to little humans. He told me you were a peaceful child once.”

  “Before you cursed my father.” The words trembled as they tumbled out. My vision went blurry. I blinked, sending tears streaming down my cheeks. “Before you stole my mother!”

  Mab’s cool gaze turned icy. “Must I justify my every action to you?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and struggled to breathe. This was just a dream. Just a dream. I needed to figure out how to wake up. I needed to get home. Mab didn’t have the boys. If I managed to get out of here, I could find them. I could keep them safe.

  “Oh, Bryn,” Mab sighed, that maternal tone sinking back into her voice. It made me want to puke. “You really don’t understand what’s been happening.”

  “I understand you invaded my head,” I ground out. “And I’m gonna make you regret it.”

  Her small fingers brushed against mine. In that instant, I did all I knew I could do. I thought of one place she wouldn’t be able to stand.

  Sixteen

  How it happened, I wasn’t sure. But it felt right. For all her power, this was still my head. My dream. And I’d be damned if she was just going to take that from me.

  The mirror wood shimmered and shifted around me. Glass strained to maintain its shape, but I concentrated, shoving my will against it. Spider-web cracks crunched across the glossy surface, distorting my face until, with a screech, it shattered around us. The silvery blackness of the mirror wood gave way to the sharp grays and glowing golds of an active steel mill. For just a moment, I stood alone, the new surroundings rippling around me until they solidified. Augustine Steel Mill, courtesy of my memories from a ninth grade field trip. My blood wasn’t enough. Probably a nail wouldn’t be enough either. But this? She’d feel this.

  As soon as the world manifested, I sprinted for cover, crouching behind a low set of stairs, hidden in the shadows. It took everything I had to summon enough composure to glance around the corner of the stairs. Mab paced through the dark, dirty factory, every muscle in her body tense as a live wire, her eyes burning wide. The burning crucible behind her almost matched her fury.

  “You think this will do anything?” Mab shouted.

  A rebuke welled up inside me, but I had to swallow it back down. She was disoriented. It wouldn’t last long. Time to look for a weapon. Something long-distance. Maybe I could dream something up. A gun? Did bullets have steel casings? Crap, that was something I should have known! A crossbow, for sure, with iron-tipped arrows. That should do the trick, right?

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, imagining a loaded crossbow in front of me.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Footsteps echoed through the empty mill, the reverberations pounding louder and louder. I leapt away from the stairs, scrambling over old tools as Mab crept down the steps, her fingers dancing just centimeters above the toxic iron railing. Her large eyes drifted back and forth. She didn’t have to search for me. Not really. In her territory, she’d track me down sooner or later.

  I clutched the crossbow tighter in my hands, willing it to solidify as she inched nearer. My breath caught in my throat. I forced myself to raise shaking hands, train the crossbow on Mab’s chest.

  She turned to
face me, her lovely face cast in shadow and the molten light of steel.

  “Now, Bryn. Is this necessary?”

  My finger twitched a second too early. With a fwing the arrow flew, not quite at her heart, but it tore through the gauzy layers of her sleeve. Mab jerked back with a screech, one hand flying to her shoulder as royal blood seeped out like spilled ink. Good Lord. I’d actually hit her. I’d actually hurt her.

  Mab straightened, her lips curled into a sneer. The crossbow flickered out of existence. Something in my brain switched on, cutting through the noise with a single, overpowering command.

  Run!

  I darted farther into the mill, my bare feet slapping against the hot, dirty ground. Doors appeared in the walls, shaking as snarls and hisses erupted from behind them. Pale hands banged at thick plastic windows, their palms leaving behind smears of purple blood. Shit!

  Crash!

  Glass exploded outward as the first bone-white hand burst through the window in the door, fingers splayed as it reached for me.

  “This is not a game you can win, girl.” Mab’s words echoed around the mill, laced with venom.

  The mill shivered around me. A ladder appeared just meters away. I caught my breath and ran, all but leaping for the first wooden rung as the door burst open. Drones spilled out in a flood of hissing, heaving inhumanity. My bare feet slipped on the rungs as splinters nipped at my soles. The ladder shook beneath me, wood groaning as the first of the Unseelie began to climb.

  My chest ached. I struggled to suck in breath after agonizing breath as I charged upward, leaving a bloody stain on each of the rungs beneath me. My pursuer screeched below.

  Three feet away. Two feet. Almost there.

  Claws tickled my ankle.

  I leapt for the second floor, ignoring the way the railing slammed into my arms. Blindly, I kicked back at the ladder. A slick, blistered hand wrapped around my ankle.

  The ladder fell. And with it, the drone.

  My stomach dropped as I plunged feetfirst over the side. Instinct kicked in and I managed to grab on to the railing.