Ironspark

by C. M. McGuire

  “Yeah.” Dom hefted the frying pan up in the air and pulled the little bottle of holy water out of his pocket.

  I nodded to myself. “Good. If you use the water, be sure to run. It only irritates them, it doesn’t really hurt them.”

  Jasika took a deep breath, both hands gripping the strap of her tote. And I politely pretended not to notice how they shook.

  “Okay,” I said, turning back to the trees. “Let’s go.”

  Thirty-One

  My heart pounded in my throat as I stepped beyond the tree line. I wished, suddenly, that I could still hold my nail. And glad as I was for their company, I wished Jasika and Dom were home and safe. I wished the boys were home and safe. Oh God, the boys …

  The reality of the situation settled on me. Mab herself had orchestrated this attack, and it was going to play out. If she couldn’t get at me in the school, she’d get at me anywhere she could find me. Anything could happen. It was well past the time of giving any craps. These were no-holds-barred, smoke-’em-if-you-got-’em, pull-out-everything-you’ve-got stakes. Because if we failed, this would be it. No more Postoak Road. No more boys.

  I grabbed Jasika’s arm, my bloody palm staining her lacy sleeve as I dragged her down, crushing my lips against hers. She tasted like candy corn. She smelled like jasmine and sage. Her soft lips against mine felt like hope. Somehow, some way, we were going to see morning, and I was going to have the chance to do that again.

  Jasika yelped, but only for a second. Then she cupped the back of my neck and relaxed into the kiss for just a moment. Fireworks exploded inside me, sparks tickling right down to the tips of my toes. I wanted it to go on forever, but with a little nibble to my lower lip that made me see stars, she pulled away. Her eyes positively gleamed in the darkness. “That better not be a goodbye,” she warned.

  I swallowed and shook my head. “Just for luck.”

  Dom crept past us, his brows furrowed. I waited for some comment, or even a thumbs-up, but it didn’t come. He wasn’t even looking at us but at the woods beyond. I turned in the direction of his gaze and saw them. Flickers against the shadows. Dark creatures and blinking lights, crashing branches and hyena-like yelps. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I could just start to pick them out.

  “Devas,” Jasika breathed. “Nymphs. Pixies. Redcaps. Bogles. Knockers … they’re all out tonight.”

  “They must sense something.” I clutched my bag a little tighter. “I guess we’re in the right place.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped into the dark.

  The underbrush crunched and rustled around me. Needle-like branches stung my bare legs as they snapped against me, releasing the sharp, herby scent of crushed plants. A chilly breeze hissed through the woods, raising the gooseflesh on my arms. I shivered and gripped the strap of the duffel a little tighter. Why the hell had I decided not to wear a jacket tonight?

  “Which way are we even going?” Dom demanded, his normally tan face ashen. The squawks and yelps from the wild fairies echoed in the distance. I almost reached out to squeeze his hand.

  “We follow the chaos,” I said. “Wherever the boys are, they’re probably—”

  High-pitched yelps and yips tore through the air. I had to jump back as a dozen dark shapes charged in front of us, their large ears laid flat like a cat’s. My heart jumped into my throat. My shadelings!

  “Hey, wait!” I called, chasing after them, but they dissolved into the shadows, only their sharp cries echoing in the woods behind them. Something had scared them. What was it Marsh had told me? They were afraid of the Unseelies. Mab’s court would kill them on sight. And I couldn’t protect them. They knew that now, didn’t they?

  “Stop, come back!” Dom shouted, jogging through the dark. “Wait. We won’t hurt you!”

  “It’s no good.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “They aren’t coming back. They’re scared.”

  “But I—”

  “Wait!” Jasika cried out.

  I whirled around just in time to see something throw itself at her. It looked like the reverse of a satyr with the mottled, gray-skinned body of a human male and the head of a matted mountain goat. A phooka. But … but they weren’t supposed to be violent.

  “Hey!” I shouted, and since there wasn’t any time to dig through the duffel bag for something helpful, I swung the whole damn thing. I heard glass shatter inside the bag as it collided with the phooka’s head, sending it staggering back. But the phooka never lost its footing. It turned on me, gray hands flexed, and shrieked.

  I stumbled back, fumbling with the zipper and digging blindly through the bag. Every time my fingers brushed against a flask or a nail or an iron cross, my hand burned.

  The phooka lurched forward. Fine. I dropped the bag. Just a second more. A second more … When the phooka came within a few feet of me, I ducked low and kicked my steel-toed boot right into its fleshy gut. It let out a horrible, throaty wheeze somewhere between a bray and a choke and fell to the ground gasping for air.

  “We’ve gotta go,” I called, instinctively running my hands up and down Jasika’s body to search for any wounds. She had a few scratches, and her sleeves were done for, but otherwise she seemed safe. The phooka rose, panting, foam frothing on its lips.

  “Eeeee!”

  Over a dozen batlike shapes swept down from the trees, throwing themselves onto the mad creature, shrieking like a bunch of overheated teapots. The phooka screamed and threw its head from side to side, but it couldn’t throw the shadelings off. Not once they dug their claws in and bared their needle teeth.

  There were a lot of sincerely frightening things in this world. I’d never really thought a shadeling could be one of them.

  “Don’t hurt it!” Dom cried, dropping the frying pan to hold his hands up. “It’s just spooked.”

  One of the shadelings hissed, but closed its mouth. As a unit, they grabbed the phooka’s mane and jumped all at once, dragging its head to the floor. A dozen more shadelings descended from the trees, pinning the creature’s limbs down. The phooka frothed and wheezed, its wide, dead eyes darting around. After a moment, it calmed down, panting as it drooled onto the leaves.

  What. The. Fuck?

  Dom sighed and knelt down in front of the bunch of them, hands on his knees. “Great job, guys. You really saved our asses.”

  The shadelings regarded him. A tubby greenish one pulled itself loose and plodded up to him.

  “Maybe now you put jelly in the milk?”

  Dom chuckled and nodded, holding out his hand. “Of course. Could you help keep the path clear while we look for the twins?”

  The shadeling nodded and shook his finger before jumping into the nearest shadow. One by one, like a horrifying tangle of spiders, the shadelings extricated themselves and followed suit. The phooka blinked once, twice, then leapt to its feet and scrambled off into the woods.

  Dom swallowed before wordlessly digging through the underbrush for the duffel bag. For all the good it would do. Everything in there was probably broken or mixed-up now. Gooding would be pissed if … when he woke up.

  “Dom, how long have you been feeding them?” I breathed.

  Dom shouldered the duffel. “Since a little after the fire. I think maybe a couple recognized me and they showed up like cats begging for food. Probably easier than getting to the church for them.”

  “And you just fed them?”

  “You said they were friends.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’d say it paid off, wouldn’t you?”

  Something confusing knotted in my chest, hovering between jealousy and relief. The shadelings were gone. They weren’t mine to look after anymore, but they’d found someone new. And, clearly, he was taking care of them.

  It was good. It stung like antiseptic, but it was good.

  Jasika stared after the phooka’s path into the underbrush. “Maybe Mab’s having that effect on a lot of them,” she murmured. “Think the shadelings will be able to keep anything else out of our way?”


  My stomach churned, but I nodded. “We can trust them.”

  “Hey!” Dom shouted, pointing deep into the woods. “Is that…”

  I turned and saw two forms a little shorter than me picking their way through the trees.

  “Jake?” I called. “Ash!”

  I jerked toward them, but a hand closed around my arm, holding me in place.

  “It could be a trick!” Dom insisted. “We need to stick together.”

  The underbrush began to swallow up their forms. It could be a trap. But it could be them.

  “We have to go after them,” I insisted. “Jasika—”

  “We need to stop and gain our bearings,” Jasika said softly. “I don’t trust anything we see in these woods tonight. Just give me five minutes. I know a divining spell. I can check on them.”

  Five minutes. In five minutes they could be lost for good. I glanced between them, tears stinging my eyes.

  “Keep everyone else safe,” I choked out before I wrenched my arm free. They had their people to protect. I had mine.

  I tore through the woods, just barely able to keep their costumed pinpricks in my line of sight. The boys charged through the woods, always just out of reach. I ran harder until my sides ached. My cheeks burned. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. Inhuman screeches and whoops erupted around me in a deafening cacaphony, interspersed with the bongs and bangs of a frying pan connecting with something solid.

  “Ash!” I cried. “Jake, stop!” They were here. Just ahead! If I could somehow make myself move a little faster, I might be able to catch them …

  And then they were gone, swallowed by the sudden darkness. I skidded to a stop and whirled around. Dom and Jasika were nowhere to be seen. Nor were any of the wild fairies. The only sound I could hear was the steady thrum thrum thrum of my heart pounding in my ears.

  Then it hit me. The woods smelled different, with a too-sweet undercurrent like honey. Everything was wrong. The subtle but undeniable difference between the American spruce and whatever these trees were. The light cast a haze over everything like a bluish camera lens. The way that my boots somehow made no noise on the foreign ground. This wasn’t a dream.

  I wasn’t in Pennsylvania anymore.

  Thirty-Two

  I paced back and forth, trying to think of some way to get back to the others. To find the boys.

  And then I saw them. Little will-o’-the-wisps bobbing above a stone path, their light warm and inviting in this wooded sea of darkness. Something deep inside me itched. This was the way to find Mab. I sure as hell wouldn’t get out of here before I did just that. I took a deep breath, sent up a little prayer, and followed the bobbing, twinkling line of wisps.

  “Take off your iron!” hissed a creaky voice.

  I jumped back to see the haggard, gaunt figure of a woman crouching behind a tree, her large eyes glowering up at me. A gwyllion. According to the lore, all they did was creep out mountain travelers, but then phooka weren’t exactly supposed to attack people, either. My hand flew to my throat, but my nail was still gone.

  “Take off your iron,” the woman hissed again.

  When I still did nothing, the gwyllion let out a little growl of annoyance and jabbed a bony finger at my boots. Oh. Steel toes. Of course, they wouldn’t want to risk it. Not after what I’d done. But then, at this point, could they really stop me?

  “I’d rather keep them on.”

  “Then you will not pass,” the gwyllion rasped, raising her chin.

  “Did two boys come through here?”

  “Take off your boots and you may pass. Keep them on, and you will never reach your destination.”

  You’d think if Mab wanted someone from my bloodline this badly, she’d bend the rules to get me. With shaking fingers, I unlaced my boots and slipped out of them, socks and all, and set my bare toes against the leafy underbrush.

  “I’ll be back for these,” I warned, and flexed my hand and stared down the misty path. No nail. No bag. No boots. No plan. But one way or another, she wasn’t getting the boys.

  Morgan swam to the front of my mind. You will have to salvage victory from loss.

  I was so screwed.

  The gwyllion retracted her arm but continued to watch me with shadowed eyes, her thin lips pulled into a line. The wisps bobbed overhead in a reminder, and I took a deep breath. With only the faith that they wouldn’t want me dead, I followed them up the path. It wasn’t cold here, wherever here was, but my gooseflesh didn’t go away. I rubbed my hands over my arms but schooled my expression into an emotionless mask. Whatever I saw up ahead, I wouldn’t give it the pleasure of knowing how scared I really was.

  The path curved up a gentle slope, and off in the distance, I saw it.

  The clearing. Packed with courtiers. The massive table heavy with a harvest feast. Stringed instruments cast the same eerie melody onto the breeze as before. An uneasy feeling settled in my gut. I’d been here before. I’d done this before, only last time she’d let me believe I’d won. Was she trying to lull me into a false sense of security here?

  I rubbed my sweating, bleeding palms against my dress. I knew what Mab really wanted. I could bargain with her. Jasika and Dom were still out in the woods. If I didn’t find the twins here, they could still take them back to safety.

  Dozens of luminous eyes fell on me, flaying me apart bit by bit. I sucked in a shaky breath. What did they see? Their foe? Their prize? Fresh meat? Or just that pest of a girl who’d been fighting for so long to keep them out of Easterton, Pennsylvania?

  “I’ll give you some credit. You proved to be more powerful than I expected. I think I was right to hold out hope for you.”

  I turned. Ice settled in my chest as Mab swept into the clearing, her dewdrop gown fluttering behind her. Somehow, she looked just as impish and lovely in real life as she had in the dreams. Her lips quirked up into a pleased little bow. “I’m glad to see you’ve reconsidered.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and staggered back a step, but my back hit something solid.

  “Ssssstay,” a deep voice hissed.

  I jumped back, my eyes darting up to see a horrible, bone-white face, purple blood oozing from its cracked lips. Another drone.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” I snapped, instinctively kicking out at it. But I’d left my boots with the gwyllion.

  Clawed hands caught my bare ankle and flung me to the ground. Titters and cackles rose up from the crowd of courtiers.

  “None of that,” Mab sniffed. “You ought to make a good impression in my court. Come, now. If you can’t make friends, then I worry you really won’t fit in.”

  “Good. Pull out of my town and we’ll go our separate ways.” I scrambled to my feet, fists shaking. “I don’t care who made a deal with you. You don’t own me. You don’t own my family.”

  Mab frowned. “Such defiance, Bryn. You know, you tried to kill me. I may be impressed, but that does sting.”

  “Good.”

  Mab sighed and shook her head, her mane of dark hair bouncing in the air. “I should have chosen better all those years ago. The king’s sister was more trouble than I bargained for. Still, we make do with what we have. I’ll not leave here empty-handed, but I will leave the choice to you. You may come willingly, or I will have them before dawn.”

  I swallowed. The music faded. Every courtier stood as a statue, their eyes locked on me.

  Under all those inhuman eyes, I forced myself to raise my chin. “Neither. We don’t belong to you.”

  Mab pursed her lips and plucked an apple from one of the silvery bowls. Her sharp nails dug through the skin, juice pooling like blood in her hands. “Such anger. And here I gave you a choice.”

  “Not much of a choice.”

  “You’re so like your mother. It sickens me.” She dropped the apple to the ground and flicked the juice away. “And that witch who promised a faithful line to me.”

  “She couldn’t really promise that, could she?”

  Mab arched a
brow. “I suspect you’re right. Morgan always was a crafty one. Sometimes I think she orchestrated the hiding of all her son’s little bastards from me. But no matter. I found your mother and I found you.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and raised my chin. “She dealt with you because she wanted her brother’s throne, right? Well, if you’re after England, it’s changed hands a few times now and you’ve come to the wrong continent.”

  “A human ambition. I have a throne and, thankfully, not the same foolhardy ambition as the witch,” Mab tutted. “You won’t have to worry about her, Bryn. She’s long gone. You and your brothers are all I could track down from her legacy. I’ll take you where you belong now.”

  My eyes darted up to hers. The horrible bitch.

  “You’re all just storybook characters, these days,” I spat. “You’ve got nothing over us. Morgan’s still out there, right? Why don’t you take it up with her?”

  “She made me a promise, Bryn. We take promises very seriously here.” Mab sighed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “But I suppose betrayal is a terribly human trait. I wonder, perhaps, if either of the twins has strayed from the other in the woods. If I told them I would only take one, which do you think would sacrifice his brother?”

  Something snapped. I lunged forward, throwing her against the marvelous table, sending the suckling pig and the bread and the pumpkins crashing to the ground, their innards flying in every direction. My hands shook violently, but not so much that I couldn’t press my fingers to her throat. Mab snarled up at me, knocking me back onto the table. The breath hissed out from between my teeth. I scrambled, nails scraping against wood. For just a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a red banner fluttering up among the trees under the unfamiliar stars.

  “You have no idea of the honor you were born to,” Mab crooned as she loomed over me. She had the audacity to actually look sad about it. “You’ve fitted yourself into a life too small for your potential.”