Ironspark

by C. M. McGuire

  I must have looked pretty freaked out because Gwen pulled me into her arms. Tears seeped out of my eyes. I swallowed and buried my head in Gwen’s shoulder, breathing in the earth and algae scent. Stupid. She’d been watching me all this time, like a ghost at the edge of my dreams, and I hadn’t even put it together. For crying out loud, Mab had told me herself that she could do this!

  “My poor human,” Gwen sighed. “I wish we could do more to fight this evil for you.”

  I huffed and shook my head. “No. No, I need to do this. She’s threatening my brothers.”

  “She’s threatening humans,” Jasika cut in. “Don’t worry. Humans’ll be enough to stop her.”

  Gwen pressed her lips to the top of my head before she let go. It was hard to miss the strange way she considered Jasika. For just a second, I wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad.

  “Yes. I do believe you will,” she murmured. “And I must say, I quite like the humans Bryn has brought to me. It makes me sorry we did not meet sooner.” She reached out, taking one of Jasika’s hands in hers. “You’re quick on your feet, Jasika. Thank you for saving Bryn tonight.”

  “It…” Jasika shifted nervously, but she didn’t pull her hand away. “It was my fault we were in danger in the first place. I just wanted to help my cousin.”

  I heaved an inward sigh of relief as I straightened.

  Gwen nodded. “Love is often the birthplace of haste. It is unfortunate, but difficult to condemn.” She dropped her hand and turned back to me. “I cannot heal you and undo their magic, but perhaps my sisters can do some small thing to help.”

  “I’d be grateful for it.”

  Gwen crept back into the water, and in an instant, she was gone. Jasika rushed forward, staring at the dark, rippled surface.

  “I’ll never get over the way she can just disappear like that,” she breathed.

  “They’re sneaky. It’s nice to have them on your side,” I agreed, staring down at the dirt. It felt like I was sitting at the center of an implosion, everything flying in toward me at once. The dreams. The eye. The book. The queen. If I focused too hard on anything, I’d get hit, and that would take me down.

  Jasika settled on the ground next to me, wrapping her arms around her knees. For a long time, the only sound was the insects chirping in the trees and the water lapping against the stones at the water’s edge.

  “I’m sorry,” Jasika murmured. “I guess I got cocky. I really thought we could pull this off.”

  “So did I.” Really, I was the one who ought to be apologizing to her. I was the one who’d honestly thought I knew better than Gwen. But try as I might, I couldn’t seem to force my mouth to form the words to apologize.

  “Maybe Gwen was right. Maybe we shouldn’t have even tried to mess with that stuff.” She swallowed. “You think we’ll ever be able to leave all this crazy behind?”

  I shrugged. “I dunno. I just know I’m … getting tired of all of it.”

  “That makes sense. When this is over, you deserve a vacation.”

  My lip twitched. “I’ll be satisfied with taking off for college.”

  Jasika opened her mouth to say something when the telltale buzz of a phone cut her off. She whipped it out of her pocket, her thumb jabbing at the screen like a woodpecker. In the harsh blue light of the little device, she looked positively ashen. Then, after a few long seconds, her face split into a wide grin.

  “He’s awake.” She turned to me, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Oh my God, he’s … We did it!”

  And before I could congratulate her, her lips were on mine, soft as rose petals but strong. My heart began to skip all over the place like someone had just zapped it. My brain just sort of shorted out. All I could think was that she must have had a serious caffeine fix before we left because I was sure I could taste something sweet on her lips. Maybe I ought to grab her or kiss her back or do something, but mostly I was trying to wrap my head around the notion that Jasika Witters wasn’t straight and she must have read me like a freaking book and why were her lips so soft?

  It seemed to last forever, and nothing else mattered. No pain, no fear, no anything … and then she pulled away, her eyes still shining. Part of me wanted to reach forward and drag her back into another kiss. She looked so beautiful, cross-lit by the moon and the phone, grinning from ear to ear like joy herself … and holy crap.

  Fabric swished against grass, and just like that, the moment was over. All the pain and fear and worry slammed into me like a freight truck. I glanced back at the pond to see Gwen setting a bowl of what looked like goopy seaweed on the ground, her face hidden in her sheets of ash-blond hair.

  Oh, God, no.

  “Gwen,” I grunted, pushing myself to my feet.

  Gwen rose, her hands folded in front of her. “You should have your friend rub this on your wounds. It will help with the healing.”

  “Gwen, wait!”

  But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. She turned, darting into the water like she was rushing down a flight of stairs. I caught one last glimpse of ash-blond hair floating in the water until all that was left of her was a ripple in the dark. The bowl left behind, half in, half out of the water, soiled by the thick mud. I stared at the water, and it felt like a lump of clay had settled in my chest.

  Somehow, without trying, I managed to keep hurting her.

  Twenty-Two

  We didn’t talk on the way back, and I couldn’t quite decide what made me feel queasier: the memory of Gwen’s expression or Jasika’s silence. I knew I ought to say something. Anything, really, to fight off the gnawing guilt as she helped me back through the woods and into her car. The radio blared during the short drive back to the church, but for the life of me, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was playing.

  When we reached the church, I wrapped the hospital blanket around my shoulders. Jasika watched me from the driver’s seat, her face a blank mask.

  “You sure you don’t want a little help?”

  Of course I did. But if I even gave a hint at that, I’d lose my resolve. I shook my head. “I don’t want to raise suspicions.”

  “I think the big bruise on your cheek might do that.”

  I touched it and winced. It was still nothing compared to the mess on my back. “I’ll figure something out. Thank you for driving me back.”

  My whole body screamed with every little movement, but I forced myself to grab the backpack and shuffle toward the church.

  “Bryn,” Jasika called. I turned back, my stomach wriggling, but she glanced away after a second. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it would be like that.”

  “She played us both,” I murmured.

  “But it was my idea.”

  “And I went along with it.” I took a deep breath. “We’re fine, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I turned and began the shuffle to the church.

  I didn’t hear the car pull away until I reached the door. Clearly, Jasika had decided to watch and make sure I made it in. I crept across the hall, and froze when I heard my father’s voice. Oh no. If he knew where I’d been …

  “… yes, of course. But I assure you the children were in school when the fire started. The only damage was to the property … Yes, I understand. There was an investigation, I’m sure the police can tell you the cause of…”

  Insurance company, probably. Tension seeped out of my shoulders. He probably didn’t even know I was awake. Lucky me.

  I gripped the backpack a little tighter and hobbled toward my room. Music blared from behind Ash’s and Jake’s doors, the dueling songs discordant and unrecognizable against each other.

  As soon as I closed the door to my room behind me, the shadeling popped up from the bed, momentarily cheered by my arrival. Until it got a good look at me. Its spindly hands flew to its mouth.

  “Missy, what happened?”

  I stared at it for a few seconds, feeling the world wobbling around me like a water bed. Of course. The shadeling would wan
t to know what happened.

  “Mab.” I swallowed and shuffled forward. “I just … I want to take a hot bath, that’s all.”

  The little imp shifted from foot to foot, its head bobbing as it wrestled with what to say. An instant later, it hopped into a shadow and was gone. I gathered up my towel, underwear, and some pajamas before I turned and inched my way toward the communal bathroom.

  The steady whoosh of running water was a welcome sound. I pushed my way in to see the shadeling sprinkling the water with dried lavender buds. Probably stole them from Gooding. I ought to rebuke it for stealing, but the familiar smell tickled my nose, and I couldn’t help relaxing just a little bit.

  I waited until the shadeling turned around before I stripped down and sank into the warm water. I had to bite back a yelp of pain as the water lit my back on fire again, but a small whimper still got through. In seconds, the sweet-smelling water was already tinged with an unpleasant shade of pink.

  Usually, this was the point when the shadelings left me alone, but this little purple one didn’t seem interested in doing that. It curled up on the ground next to the tub, toying with the mess of bloody clothes I’d dropped onto the floor. “She got you?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded, running my fingers through the water. “Yeah. That’s what Gwen said.”

  Its large, batlike ears drooped. “Mab … Mab doesn’t like shadelings, Missy.”

  “Why not?”

  The shadeling pulled its little knees to its chest and rested its chin on them. “We’re not like other fairies. We weren’t born. We were made.”

  “By whom?” But I already had a good idea.

  “Mistress made us.”

  I closed my eyes. Of course she did. There were so many things Mum had done that she’d never told us about. Of course she’d have the kind of power to manufacture a new kind of fairy.

  “How?”

  The poor thing’s ears twitched. “We were brownies, Missy. We were hurt. Mistress mixed us with the shadows and saved us. But … the nasty Unseelies didn’t like that she did that. Their nasty queen wanted to kill us.” It stooped its shoulders. “Thought she’d be gone by now.”

  My gut squirmed. No wonder they’d been so loyal to us for so long.

  “Do you know why she made you?”

  The shadeling shrugged. “Dunno. Can only guess … I think it’s cause … maybe Mistress was a little bit lonely.” It shifted, glancing up at me. “I think … sometimes Missy is lonely, too.”

  I stared down at the pink water that swirled around my knees. At the moment, I felt a little cramped. Gwen. Jasika. Dom. I wasn’t sure what exactly each of them wanted from me, or how to make any of them happy without upsetting one of the others. I leaned against the edge of the tub, staring down at the little creature. Those bright eyes in the woods had just blinked out like they didn’t even care that I was there. Every day I was surrounded by people and creatures who needed something from me, and yet I felt as though I lived in a glass casket, unable to reach any of them.

  “The other shadelings aren’t coming back, are they?”

  It tugged at its ear and stared up at me with such wide, shining eyes that I already knew the answer. “They don’t feel safe anymore, Missy.”

  It was like a punch to the gut. My pains in the ass. My pets. My … my friends. I gripped the side of the tub and took a deep breath before the tears could come. “Why are you here, then?”

  The shadeling’s wide, thin lips twitched into a smile. “I like it with you. And being with humans. Living in your houses and eating your food.”

  I huffed, pressing my forehead to the side of the tub, but I couldn’t help smiling. At least it had a real reason. One that wasn’t going to dissolve anytime soon. “And you don’t want to go live with the others?” I asked, raising my eyes.

  It shook its head until its ears slapped its cheeks. “I’m my own shadeling.”

  Something warm bloomed in my chest. I reached down to rest my fingers on its head. “I’m not allowed to thank you or give you gifts,” I murmured. “But there’s gotta be something you want from me. You know we humans like to show our gratitude.”

  The shadeling pursed its lips, reaching up to rest its hands on mine. After a few seconds, it gave me a sheepish smile. “I want a name, Missy.”

  “A name?” I blinked, but nodded. “Okay. What sort of name do you want?”

  The shadeling frowned for a few seconds before it finally spoke. “What’re those things Missy puts in the cocoa? They’re soft and squishy and sweet.”

  “You mean marshmallows?”

  The shadeling’s smile could have outshone the sun. It nodded so vigorously I had to pull my hand back. “Yes. Marshmallow. I wanna be Marshmallow.”

  Marshmallow. Marsh. I grinned, biting the inside of my cheek, then winced at the sudden ache. “All right. Marshmallow it is.”

  “Marshmallow!” It squeaked, hopping around in glee. Then, it whirled around so quickly it fell to the floor, but it picked itself up again. “Is Missy a boy or a girl?”

  “What? A girl,” I laughed.

  “A girl!” The shadeling … Marshmallow tittered. “A girl. I wanna be a girl, too. Can I be a girl?”

  “You can be whatever you want, Marsh,” I assured her.

  Marshmallow looked so excited she didn’t know what to do with herself, so she settled with throwing her arms around her torso and rocking back and forth in unbridled joy. My little shadeling. The only one I had left.

  At least until the doorknob jiggled. The shadeling yelped and disappeared into the shadows, but I didn’t have the same escape. Shit! I thought I’d locked it. Before I could think of what to do, the door swung open and Jake walked in, a towel draped over his arm. All I could think to do was cover my chest.

  His face drained of color as he stared at me, and I didn’t even have to guess what he was looking at. I could still feel the angry stinging on my back.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” I hissed.

  His eyes flicked to my face, and for a moment, it looked like he might start to cry. I shifted, shimmying down deeper into the water, though it wasn’t going to change the clearly pink tone.

  “Bryn, what have you done?”

  My heart hammered in my chest. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t tell anyone, Jake.”

  He fidgeted, and he looked like he might say something more, but he didn’t say anything aloud. He just nodded and tiptoed back out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

  I pushed myself out of the tub as quickly as I could with my back throbbing as it did. As I reached for my nightgown, Marshmallow reappeared, holding up a first aid kit. I gritted my teeth.

  By the time we finished, a lot of that wonderful warmth from the tub had already seeped out of me. I rose, stiff as an old tin man, and changed into my nightgown.

  As I pushed myself to my feet, I saw that Marshmallow had gathered my ruined clothes into a pile.

  “What should I do with these?” she asked.

  “Just toss them,” I said, shuffling to the door. “And I’ll see if we have any marshmallows in the kitchen later.”

  The shadeling shook its head, ears flapping. “No, Missy. You should go straight to sleep.”

  “Not yet. I need to talk to my brother.”

  Twenty-Three

  I knocked twice and pushed the door open. Jake sat on his bed, his shoulders slumped, feet tapping against the stone floor. In that moment, he looked six years old again, devastated that he didn’t have anyone to bring with him to Muffins for Mom Day at school.

  I sighed and shuffled into the room, kicking aside the flotsam and jetsam of used clothes until I sank down onto the bed next to him. “It’s weird. Usually Ash is with you.”

  “Ash is still being an idiot.” Jake looked up, shoulders hunched. “And you know what? So are you.”

  So, we weren’t going to take our time with this, were we? I cleared my throat. “About what you saw—”

  “You’re killing y
ourself.”

  That might not have hurt if it had been a little further off the mark. This was the part where I should have argued that I knew what I was doing, that it was fine … but I couldn’t scrape together enough energy for the lie. “I never meant for it to turn out this way.”

  “But it did!” Jake turned to me, his eyes wide and red rimmed. “It’s them, right? The fairies? The ones who took Mom and hurt Dad?”

  At this point, it was going to be pretty useless to try to hide it from him. I counted to ten, fingers curling into fists. “Jake, I’m just trying to keep everyone safe.”

  “Right,” he snorted, clenching his jaw and shaking his head. “Like that matters. The second they show up, it’s just you trying to keep everything from us like everyone does.”

  That stung more than it should have.

  “Jake—”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that Ash and I don’t have any memories of Mom? Not one.” Tears shone in his eyes, threatening to spill over the edge and onto his burning cheeks. “It’s like you and Dad have one reality and Ash and I have another. And you don’t even care that we’re left out of it because you’re still so focused on that place and those things!”

  He sucked in a shuddering breath and scrubbed his face with one hand, smearing the tears over his face. I reached out and wrapped my arm around his shoulders. He felt like stone under a soft layer of threadbare cotton. It took a few tugs before, at last, he relented enough to let me pull him to my side. He didn’t fit the way he had a few years ago. Too tall. Too strong. Everything was changing and I didn’t know how to fix it.

  Jake sniffled. “You can’t go, too,” he whispered.

  I rested my chin against his head and squeezed his arm. “I’m not going anywhere, Jake.”

  “You’re going to college,” he bit out. “You’re just going to ditch us as soon as you can. And then I’m going to be alone.”