Ironspark

by C. M. McGuire

  And then Marshmallow was back, tugging at my jacket sleeve.

  “Missy. Is this what you saw?”

  I glanced down at her. In the dark, I could just make out a lump of bark in her hand with a strange squiggly symbol carved into it. I swallowed, willing the words to come before I nodded.

  “Yeah.” The words came out like a frog’s croak. I cleared my throat. “Y-yeah. Do you know what it means?”

  Marshmallow set it on the ground and scrambled up to my side, her bright eyes wide in the dark.

  “It opens things, Missy. It can make the veil thin, or it can open you up to things you don’t like.”

  I clenched my jaw and flexed my hand. Of course. That was how all the Fae had been getting in. All she had to do was get a drone or a wild fairy who answered to her to start carving on this side and boom! Just like that, she could walk a whole army through if she wanted.

  And, apparently, she needed me to touch it, too.

  “What do you think Mab just opened me up to?”

  “Don’t know, Missy. It’s not shadeling magic.”

  Unseelie magic, more likely. Making me weak to the same thing they were. Making me, what? Faeish? She’d wanted me to use the book to prepare me for whatever came on Samhain. Was this her way of claiming me forever?

  There had to be a way to undo it.

  Numbly, I opened the book. The rain splashed against the vellum pages, smearing the ink in places. Page after page, I saw all the same, familiar spells. There were the unfamiliar languages and runes, but not once did the doorway appear.

  When I got to the end, I went back again, and that was when I saw it. A couple of pages cut out so neatly and so close to the spine I hadn’t noticed it until now.

  I pressed my fingers to the cut edges. Nobody’d had access to this book without me since I found it. If there had ever been information about the spell in here, it had been removed before I even knew it existed.

  I’d never stood a chance.

  * * *

  I STUMBLED BACK to the church as the rain fell in sheets. Everyone was asleep, which was just as well. My heart hammered as I knelt down on the ground, the smell of petrichor and grass rising up amidst the downpour. Marshmallow stood next to me, but made no move to act before I did. I took a deep breath and shoved my fingers into the wet earth. Roots snapped as I dragged the first handful of dirt away.

  Every pull of the earth felt like a betrayal to Mum. Even if she had hidden it, even if she hadn’t told me about any of it … this book was still part of her. Which was about the only reason I bothered wrapping the damned thing in my jacket first. Whatever came next, I was done playing with fire. Mab wasn’t going to use me again. Whatever Mab had done or tried to do to me, she wasn’t going to get the chance to finish it. I was a human.

  Thunder rumbled overhead. Marsh joined in, digging as the rain turned to a flood. It felt like we were pulling more water than earth. The jacket did nothing to protect the book. Who cared? I dug. I dug my hole deeper and deeper, wider and wider, every pull of the earth a penance for the colossal idiot I’d been.

  Who did I think I was, pulling the same crap Mum had? What was I, now that I’d screwed up?

  Mud dripped from my fingers into the hole. God. What was I now? I couldn’t touch iron. What would come next? If I read again would my eyes grow? Would all the pigment drain from my skin until I was the same bone-white monstrosity as the drone?

  Had that happened to Mum?

  I sucked in the too-thick, too-wet air, my breaths dissolving into hiccups. What had I done? Hot tears ran down my cheeks, almost a comfort against the chilly rain. Oh God. What had I done? With shaking hands, I plunged into the muddy grave, slinging the earth everywhere until the hole was as deep as my elbow. I could dig down to the center of the earth and it wouldn’t be deep enough.

  I shoved the book in and covered it up, staining my secondhand nightgown. But even as I filled the hole, I could feel it down there. Mum’s book. My mistake. Buried in an unmarked grave.

  When it was all done, Marshmallow crawled into my lap and clung to the front of my nightgown. I hugged her close and carried her into the church.

  Twenty-Eight

  In the morning, I made myself text Jasika and Dom about the dream. The confirmation from Morgan. Where Mab planned to strike. What we needed to do about it. The dangerous carvings in the woods. It was as close as I could come to keeping my promise to be honest with them. But for the rest of it, whatever curse Mab had laid on me, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. It wouldn’t be forever. If we could just get through Samhain, then I’d have the whole winter to figure out how to reverse it with Gooding, maybe even Gwen if the water wives returned. In a few days, I’d be able to put all of this behind me.

  And if I couldn’t? Well. At least the boys would be safe.

  The replies popped up a few minutes later. Dom would look for any unusual carvings to scratch out after school. Jasika would check possible entry points in the gym if Dom and I could look over the rest of the school. We only had until tomorrow. No time to waste, at this point.

  On my way out, I started making a mental checklist of all the places to double-check both in the school and the woods. It might not be a bad idea to put additional protections around the houses on Postoak, though Dom and Jasika could probably pull that off more covertly than I could.

  Just as I pulled on my boots, someone knocked at the door. I checked my phone. We weren’t supposed to leave for another twenty minutes, and the boys were never keen to get going.

  “Just a minute,” I called.

  “Meet us in the kitchen. Quick family meeting before school,” Dad replied. By the time I opened the door, he was gone. I grabbed my backpack and hurried toward the church kitchen.

  Ash and Jake sat at the table on either side of dad, the empty chair between them. Jake poked at the pliable edges of a granola bar. Ash scratched at one of the nicks in the table, looking like he might slump over any moment. And there sat Dad, looking tired and drawn between them. Nothing about this screamed “fun.” I had to force myself to take a seat.

  Dad cleared his throat.

  “Kids, I know things have been tough lately. And tensions are high. But I wanted to let you know we may be able to get into a new home soon.”

  Ash glanced up at that. “How soon?”

  “That’ll depend.” Dad took a deep breath. “You never really know with insurance companies. But we did have a decent policy. Maybe enough to get us into a home on Postoak.”

  “The haunted street,” Jake scoffed.

  “None of that.” Dad leveled a sharp look at him. “None of us are too good for a safe, dry place to live. Keep in mind, the Gosling house wasn’t exactly a mansion.”

  “So, what’s the catch?” I cut in. “You wouldn’t have gathered all of us like this if there wasn’t something you needed us to do.”

  “Yeah.” Dad grunted and rubbed the back of his neck. “I need the three of you to behave. I’m going out of town for a couple of days. Apparently, the insurance company saw some evidence that the fire wasn’t just an electrical failure. On the one hand, that means it wasn’t caused by neglect on my part. On the other…” He rubbed his brow. “They want a fresh psych eval for me.”

  “That’s bullshit!” I smacked my hand on the table. “You were at work. We’re as likely to have caused the fire as you.”

  “I know, Bryn.”

  “She’s right.” Jake glowered at him. “This is just discrimination.”

  “Use whatever word you like. But at the end of the day, they’ve got the money we need to buy a new house. And, unless we dip into your college funds, we need that money. I’m willing to play their game and see however many doctors they ask.”

  “You didn’t do it, Dad,” Ash cut in. “We should be focused on stopping the people who did.”

  Dad took a deep breath. “At this point, we have to accept that the police aren’t going to find any new leads. This isn’t a discussion. I did
n’t ask you in here to talk about how fair it is or isn’t. I’ve called you three in here because the doctor they want me to see is in Harrisburg. After my shift tonight, I’m going to drive straight over. It’ll probably be a full day before I can finish up all their tests, so I’ll end up staying there another night. I won’t be back until the first at the earliest. So you three need to listen to Father Gooding while I’m gone. Is that understood?”

  He was going to be gone for Samhain. It felt almost like a stroke of luck had finally fallen. Maybe it was unfair, but at least he would be hours away and safe.

  “We don’t need a babysitter,” Ash objected.

  “Then tell me the last time you did your homework without someone reminding you.” Dad folded his hands in front of him. “This is not open for discussion. I’m going to be gone the next couple of nights. Listen to Gooding. I’ll know if you don’t.”

  I straightened and nodded at him. “Yes, sir.”

  Dad arched a brow, but gave no other sign of surprise as he gestured to me. “See, boys? Maturity.”

  “Spineless,” Ash muttered. “Can we go, now?”

  Dad sighed and nodded. “Fine. Ash, no going outside. You’ll catch a chill. Again. Jake, I want to see the floor next time I see your room.” The boys shot up out of their chairs and darted through the doors like a couple of hormone-driven tornadoes. Dad managed to look even more exhausted now than he had before.

  I rose and pressed a quick peck to his forehead.

  “Let us know how it goes.”

  “Don’t you worry.” He smiled and patted my shoulder. “I’m already planning out the garden in our new place.”

  * * *

  THE SCHOOL DAY blurred by in a haze of lectures, quiz reviews, and sneaking around between classes to count how many different ways the Fae could feasibly infiltrate the school. Lunch saw us meeting in the library to plan. And the whole time, Jasika kept giving me the side-eye and asking if I felt okay before, finally, declaring that I looked tired and that I should leave the bark-scraping to her and Dom.

  I didn’t even bother to object. I could always double-check after dark in case Mab was right and they couldn’t see all of them. But they were right. At the moment, my mind simply wasn’t with them. It was with my dad, a city away. If things went well, he’d come home to a safer Easterton. If things didn’t, then I didn’t even know what I’d say to him.

  When I returned to the convent, Dad was already gone. I couldn’t help checking his room just in case. And yeah. His work boots were gone, along with his keys and charger. It felt silly to want him here so badly. Late nights were nothing new with his job. I could just pretend that’s all this was. Just another late night, and I would definitely see him again in a couple of days.

  I made my way into the church proper. I’d probably walked through these familiar rooms a thousand times, even if I hadn’t actually attended a service in the last year. There were the pews where the boys and I would organize the hymnals. If we did a good job, Father Gooding sometimes rewarded each of us with a crisp dollar. Absolute wealth if you were young enough. There was the door to the room where the knitting groups met, and next to it the choir room. The confession booths where the boys used to pretend they were jumping in and out of time machines until Gooding shooed them off. It had all seemed so grand when I was younger. Now I could see the discolored spots on the cushions in the pews and the chips in the wood.

  I took a deep breath and turned down the hallway, knocking twice before I slipped into Gooding’s office.

  The office was pretty much unchanged. Still cozy. Still packed with books on theology, philosophy, psychology, and mythology. And yet it felt different. This was where I’d received my first lessons from him. Years ago. There’d been fewer lines on his forehead. He’d caught me going through his books.

  “The thing to remember, Bryn, is that the creatures you call the Fae aren’t native to these shores. They can be like an invasive species, the way a yellow jacket invades a beehive. We favor the ones who live in peace, but try to push back against the yellow jackets.”

  Gooding glanced up from behind his desk, frowning at me.

  “Is everything all right, Bryn? It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  I sank down into one of the chairs. “I need your help.”

  “That takes me back.” Gooding laced his fingers together. “But, Bryn, your father forbade me to continue—”

  “I know who took my mum.” I balled my hands into fists. And I told him everything I dared. “Dom, Jasika, and I have been working with one of the water wives to try and protect the town. And we know that the Unseelie are behind all of it. The fires, the fairies on Postoak, my mum.” I swallowed. “More than that. We know who their queen is, and we know she’s planning to attack the gym tomorrow.”

  “That…” Gooding pinched the bridge of his nose. For a long moment, he looked as though he had a brain freeze before he straightened. “That is very forthcoming of you, Bryn. I take it you didn’t tell your father about this.”

  I arched a brow.

  Gooding’s jaw tightened. “And what, exactly, is your plan for tomorrow?”

  “We’re going to ward up and protect the school. And be there with iron if any of them manage to get in. We have better odds than all the other people at the party.”

  “So, you decide to tell me only when there are lives on the line and I can’t possibly say no.”

  “It’s the best plan of attack.” I leaned forward onto his desk. “You’ll be here at the church social and you can keep an eye on anything coming out of the woods. Anything that gets past you and into the gym, we can stop.”

  “And I expect you want me to keep the boys here, of all years, the first time they’re old enough to actually go to the Halloween Haunt.”

  “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

  “Or I know the magical significance of twins. Tom and I never did think it was a coincidence that the Fae arrived after the boys were born.” He nodded to himself and crossed his arms.

  My insides wriggled, but I schooled my face into a neutral expression. Better for him to think that. It wasn’t like the boys weren’t Mab’s backup plan, after all. And if he knew the whole truth, he’d never let me out of the convent.

  “I expect you’ll need supplies for tomorrow,” Gooding said.

  “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “All right, then. You’ll have it. But when your father returns, you will tell him everything.”

  Maybe everything would include a promise that we would never have to deal with the Fae again. Dad could ground me until graduation, and it would be worth it.

  “I promise.”

  “Then God bless you and keep you safe, Bryn.” Gooding leaned forward, resting a hand on mine. “After tomorrow, you’ll no longer be an apprentice.”

  I glanced around his office. Every folklore book tucked cleverly out of easy view, every herb and tool hidden behind the cabinets, I’d already practiced with for years. I had killed a bendith and healed a man near death. Win or lose, I’d already fought the Unseelie queen. I hadn’t been an apprentice for a while now.

  For some reason, the thought tugged like a fishing line at my heart. It felt like I was fighting against it as I rose and offered him a tight smile.

  “Well. Wish me luck.”

  Gooding smiled. “If you need it, you’ll have it.”

  Twenty-Nine

  I slipped into my candy corn costume. Well, it wasn’t so much a costume as a stained seersucker dress the church ladies had let me dye using their supplies. I had never been more festive. Just as I reached for my nail on the nightstand, I felt a thin hand slap onto mine.

  “This hurts you now,” Marshmallow insisted.

  “Not as much as it hurts Unseelies,” I said, pulling the nail out and slipping the lanyard it now hung on around my neck, careful to keep the iron on top of the dress, well away from my skin. It definitely ruined the whole cute candy corn aesthetic, but my iron-to
ed boots probably didn’t help, either.

  I didn’t fit in here, anymore, not like I was supposed to. Was I becoming a yellow jacket myself? And if I was, could I find my way back? Or did I just have to move forward until I found a beehive to ruin?

  I hesitated, perched on the edge of my bed. When I left this room, everything would change. Had I been wrong in all of this?

  “Marsh. You said you and the shadelings know Mab.” I hadn’t dared speak about the dream since that night. Even Jasika and Dom didn’t know. It had all felt like a big jinx, like Bloody Mary in the mirror. Say it aloud, and it would come. But she was coming tonight, whether I liked it or not. “Morgan promised us to Mab. Do you know anything about the deal she made?” Or, more specifically, how to find a loophole.”

  “Lots of Fae lay claim to human bloodlines,” Marsh murmured. “But Mistress was the first of yours we met.”

  I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

  “What was it like for her there? With the Unseelie.”

  “She was lonely, Missy.” Marshmallow pulled her spindly knees to her chest. “And trouble. Always trouble for the nasties. Too human to fit with them.”

  Too human. I rubbed my fingers together. I had always been pale, but I didn’t look like Mab or the prince or, God forbid, one of the drones. I was human. And a human belonged in a Fae court like a yellow jacket in a beehive.

  “Right.” I rose, shaking out my skirt. “Lie low. Take it easy. Stay in the church tonight, okay?”

  “Missy…” Thin fingers tugged at my skirt. “Please be careful. Come back.”

  “Of course.” I turned back, rubbing my hand over her purple head. “And you be safe, too. Stay here. Watch after the boys. Gooding’s got every corner of this place protected. You’ll be okay.”

  Marshmallow nodded and wrapped her spindly arms around my leg. I smiled and knelt down, pulling her to my chest. I hoped she felt the “thank you” I wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

  I left her safely in my room as I slipped out to find Gooding. The golden light of early dusk washed over everything, and parents escorted their princesses and angels and space aliens in, chattering in eager anticipation of a night of good, clean fun. Not a single one of the children was over the age of eight. Father Gooding greeted each of them at the door, complimenting every costume. I could see how pointedly he was ignoring the two killer clowns sitting in the back row of pews, sulking their hearts out. Looks like Ash and Jake couldn’t get any friends to come over. I almost went over to talk to them, but thought better of it. Right now, I’d probably only make things worse.