by Holly Black
Lutie settled on Kaye’s shoulder and grabbed a clump of green hair, wrapping it around her tiny body like a cloak. “Bitter coldy cold,” she said.
“Let’s head toward your car. Maybe by the time we get there, he’ll call back.”
Corny jumped off the steps. “Otherwise, we can sleep in the back covered in fast-food garbage like the brother and sister in ‘Babes in the Wood’ who got—”
“Lutie,” Kaye said, interrupting him. “You can’t come. You have to watch over my mom. Please. Just to make sure that she’s okay.”
“But it smells and I’m bored.”
“Lutie, please. Where we’re going—it could be dangerous.”
The little faerie flew up, wings and clotted cream hair making her seem like a tossed handful of snow. “I’m half sick of iron, but I will stay. For you. For you.” She pointed one toothpick-tiny finger down at Kaye as she rose toward the apartment window.
“We’ll come for you as soon as we can,” Corny called, but he was relieved. Sometimes it was tiring trying not to stare at her delicate hands or her miniature bird-black eyes. There was nothing human about her.
As they crossed the street, Corny’s phone rang. He flipped it open. “Hey.”
“What you want?” It was a young man’s voice, soft and angry. “Who gave you this number?”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I dialed wrong.” He made wide eyes at Kaye. “We’re looking for a . . . the . . . the Fixer.”
The line went quiet, and Corny winced at how stupid he sounded.
“You still haven’t told me what you want,” the boy said.
“My friend got a note. Said you could help her see the Queen.”
“Okay.”
“So, wait, you are the Fixer?” Corny said. Kaye looked over impatiently.
“Ask him about the curse,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s me.” The boy’s tone made it hard for Corny to decide if he was actually offering his services. “And yeah, I’m supposed to take a girl upstate. Tell her to come over here in the morning and we can go. You got paper?”
“Hold on.” Corny fumbled for something to write with. Kaye reached into her pockets and came up with a marker. When she held it out, he took it and her arm. “Okay, go.”
The boy gave them his address. Riverside Drive on the Upper West Side. Corny wrote it on Kaye’s skin.
“I want to leave now,” Kaye said. “Tell him. Tonight.”
“She wants to leave tonight,” Corny repeated into the phone.
“Is that girl crazy?” the boy asked. “It’s two in the morning.”
Kaye pulled the phone out of Corny’s hands. “We just need directions.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Okay.” She hung up. “He wants us to head over to the address he gave you.”
Corny wondered what it was in Kaye’s voice that convinced him.
Corny parked in front of a metered spot, figuring he could move the car later. Out beyond the park, the river glistened, reflecting the lights of the city. Kaye took a deep breath as she stepped out, and he saw human color cover her green cheeks.
They walked back and forth on the street, checking numbers until they came to a short building with a glossy black door.
“This isn’t really the place, is it?” Corny asked. “It’s kind of really nice. Too nice.”
“The address is right.” Kaye held up her arm to show him what he’d written.
A woman with red-rimmed eyes and frizzy hair stepped out onto the landing, letting the door swing behind her. Corny stepped out of the way and caught it before it slammed closed. As she walked down the steps, he thought he saw a swaddled-up bundle of twigs in her arms.
Kaye’s gaze followed the bundle.
“Maybe we should think more about this,” Corny said.
Kaye pressed the buzzer.
After a few moments, a dark-skinned boy with his hair in thick herringbone cornrows opened the door. One of his eyes was cloudy, the lower part of the pupil obscured by a milky haze. Metal studs threaded through his eyebrow, and a stretch of pale scar tissue on his lower lip seemed to indicate that a ring had once been ripped loose from his mouth, although a new one gleamed next to the scar.
“You’re in with the Seelie Court?” Corny asked, incredulous.
The boy shook his head. “I’m as human as you. Now, her, on the other hand.” He looked at Kaye. “The Queen never said nothing about a pixie. I don’t let Folk in my house.”
Corny looked over at Kaye. To him, she seemed glamoured, her wings gone, her skin pink, and her eyes a perfectly average brown. He looked back at the boy in the doorway.
“So what exactly did she say?” Kaye asked. “Silarial.”
“Her messenger told me that you were a little jumpy around faeries,” the boy said, looking at Corny. “That you might feel more comfortable with me.”
Kaye poked Corny in the side and he rolled his eyes. Jumpy wasn’t exactly how he wanted to be thought of.
“I was supposed to tell you that the Lady Silarial invites you to visit her court.” The boy turned his lip ring idly. “She wants you to consider your part in the coming war.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Corny said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No,” Kaye said. “Wait.”
“She anticipated your hesitation.” The boy smiled.
Corny interrupted him. “Let me guess. For a limited time only the Queen offers a free magazine subscription with each forced march to Faerieland. You can choose between Nearly Naked Nixies and Kelpie Quarterly.”
The boy let out a surprised laugh. “Sure. But not just the magazine. She’s also offering both of you her protection for the duration of the trip. There and back again.”
Corny wondered if it were possible that this guy had just made a Tolkien reference. He really didn’t look like the type.
Kaye squinted. “I’ve seen you before. In the Night Court.”
The smile dropped from the boy’s face. “I was only there once.”
“With a girl,” Kaye said. “She dueled one of Roiben’s people. You probably don’t remember me.”
“You’re from the Night Court?” the boy demanded. His glance went to Corny and his eyes narrowed.
Corny reminded himself he didn’t care what this guy thought of either one of them.
Kaye shrugged. “More or less.”
The boy sucked on his teeth. “Not such a nice place.”
“And the Bright Court is full of sugar and spice and everything nice?” Kaye asked him.
“Point.” The boy slid his hands into the pockets of his oversize coat. “Look, the Lady wants me to take you to her, and I don’t have much choice about being her bitch, but you’ve still got to come back in the morning. I’ve got someone coming really early, and I’ve got to take care of him before I head out.”
“We can’t,” Corny said. “We don’t have anywhere to sleep.”
The boy looked at Kaye. “I can’t let her stay here. I do jobs for people—human people. They see some faerie and her boy hanging around and think they can’t trust me.”
“So I guess they don’t know that you’re Silarial’s boy,” Corny said. “Then they’d know not to trust you.”
“I do what I have to do,” he said. “Not like you—a little Night Court lackey. Does it bother you when they torture humans, or do you like to watch?”
Corny shoved him, hard, the force of his rage surprising even him. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The boy laughed, short and sharp, stumbling back. Corny thought of his own hands, deadly inside thin gloves. He wanted to stop the boy’s laughing.
Kaye pushed between them. “So if I were to take off my glamour and sit here on your stoop, that would be a problem?”
“You wouldn’t do that. Your glamour protects you a lot more than it does me.”
“Does it?” Kaye asked.
A pixie. The boy had known right away, not just that Kaye was a faerie, but the kind of faerie she was.
Corny thought about the little hob and what he’d said: There is a boy with the True Sight. In the great city of exiles and iron to the north. He’s been breaking curses on mortals. The boy had True Sight. He couldn’t tell if she was wearing glamour or not.
He turned to Kaye and widened his eyes slightly in what he hoped would seem like surprise. Then he turned back to the boy and smiled. “Looks like she meant it. Wow, I can never get used to her wings and green skin—so freaky-looking. I guess we’ll just be hanging out on your steps now. It’s not like we have anywhere else to go. But don’t worry—if anyone comes by looking for you, we’ll tell them you’ll be right out . . . as soon as you’re done helping a phooka find his keys.”
The boy frowned. Corny put his gloved hand on Kaye’s arm, willing her to play along. With a quick glance in his direction, she shrugged her narrow shoulders.
“At least you’ll know where to find us in the morning,” she said.
“Fine,” said the boy, holding up his hands. “Get in here.”
“Thanks,” Corny said. “This is Kaye, by the way. Not ‘the pixie’ or ‘my Night Court mistress’ or whatever, and I’m . . .” He paused. “Neil. Cornelius. People call me Neil.”
Kaye looked over at him, and for a terrible moment he thought she was going to laugh. He just didn’t want this boy calling him Corny. Corny, like he was King of the Dorks, like his very name announced how uncool he was.
“I’m Luis,” the boy said, oblivious, opening the door. “And this is my squat.”
“You squat here?” Kaye asked. “On the Upper West Side?”
Inside, the plaster walls were cracked, and chunks of debris covered the scuffed wooden floors. Wet brown stains soaked the ceiling in rings, and a tangle of wires inside the framing were visible in one corner.
Corny’s breath clouded the air as though they were still outside. “More majestic than a trailer,” he said. “But also oddly shittier.”
“How did you find this place?” Kaye asked.
Luis looked at Kaye. “Remember that faerie my friend Val dueled with in the Unseelie Court?”
Kaye nodded. “Mabry. She had goat feet. Tried to kill Roiben. Your friend killed her.”
“This is Mabry’s old place.” Luis sighed and turned back to her. “Look, I don’t want you talking to my brother. Faeries messed him up pretty bad. You leave him alone.”
“Sure,” Corny said.
Luis led them into a parlor room furnished with overturned milk cartons and ripped-up sofas. A very thin black boy with locs that stuck up from his head like spikes sat on the floor, eating jelly beans out of a cellophane bag. His features reminded Corny of Luis’s, but there was an eerie hollowness around his eyes, and his mouth looked sunken and strange.
Kaye plopped herself onto the mustard plaid couch, sprawling against the cushions. The back was ripped, and stuffing tufted up from the torn cloth beside a stain that looked a lot like blood. Corny sat down next to her.
“Dave,” Luis said. “Some people I’m helping out. They’re going to stay the night. That doesn’t mean we all need to get friendly—” A buzzing interrupted him. He stuck his hand into the pocket, pulling out his beeper. “Shit.”
“You can use my cell,” Corny volunteered, and immediately felt like a sucker. What was he doing being nice to this guy?
Luis paused for a moment, and in the dim light his clouded eye looked blue. “There’s a pay phone at the bodega on—” He interrupted himself. “Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate it.”
Corny stared a moment too long, then looked away, fumbling through his pockets. Dave narrowed his eyes.
Dialing, Luis walked out of the room.
Kaye leaned over to Corny and whispered, “What were you doing out there?”
“He sees through glamour,” Corny whispered back. “I heard about him—he’s been breaking faerie curses.”
She snorted. “No wonder he doesn’t want humans knowing he’s in bed with the Seelie Court. He’s playing both sides. When he comes back, you should ask him about your hands.”
“What do you mean ‘in bed’?” Dave asked. His voice was dry, like rustling paper. “What’s my brother doing?”
“She doesn’t mean anything,” Corny said.
“How come we’re not supposed to talk to you?” Kaye asked.
“Kaye,” Corny warned.
“What?” Her voice was low. “Luis isn’t here. I want to know.”
Dave laughed, hollow and bitter. “Always trying to be the big brother. He’s trippin’ if he thinks he can stop them from killing me.”
“Who wants to kill you?” Corny asked.
“Luis and I used to be delivery boys for a troll.” Dave dumped a handful of jelly beans into his mouth and talked around the chewing. “Potions. Keep the iron sickness from getting to them. But if a person takes it—you know what you can do?”
Corny leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. “What?”
“Anything,” Dave said. “All the shit they can do. All of it.”
There was a distant banging, like someone had come to the door. Kaye turned toward the doorway, wide-eyed.
A half-chewed licorice bean fell from Dave’s mouth. “Sounds like my brother’s going to be busy awhile. Did you know that drinking urine drives out faerie enchantments?”
“Nasty.” Kaye made a face.
Dave wheezed with what might have been laughter. “Bet he’s pissing in some cups right now.”
Kaye scrunched down in the sofa, kicking off her boots and putting her feet on Corny’s lap. They smelled like the crushed stems of dandelions and he thought of dandelion milk covering his fingers, sticky and white, on a summer lawn years ago, while he pulled off flower heads and tossed them at his dozing sister. He was abruptly choked by grief.
“So wait,” Kaye said. “Why do they want to kill you?”
“ ’Cause I poisoned a bunch of them. So I’m a dead man, but what good does it do to stay shut up in here while Luis tries to bargain for an extra week or two of boredom? At least I can have some fun with the time I got left.” Dave grinned, but it looked more like a grimace, the skin on his cheeks pulled painfully tight. “Luis can tell me what to do all he wants, but he’s going upstate this week. While the cat’s away, the mouse’ll finally get some play.”
Corny blinked hard, like the pressure of his eyelids could push back memories. “Wait,” he said. “You murdered a bunch of faeries?”
“You think I didn’t?” Dave asked.
“Hey!” Luis stood in the doorway. A Latina girl and an older woman stood behind him. “What are you doing?”
Corny circled one of Kaye’s ankles with a gloved hand.
“I’ll talk to whoever I want,” Dave said, standing up. “You think you’re better than me, giving orders.”
“I think I know better than you,” Luis said.
The girl turned toward Corny, and he saw that her arms and face were shadowed by something that looked like vines growing beneath her skin. Tiny smears of dried blood dotted where the points of thorns stuck up through her flesh.
“You don’t know anything.” Dave kicked a table, sending it crashing onto its side, and walked out of the room.
Luis turned toward Kaye. “If I hear—if he tells me you came anywhere near him,” he shouted. “If you spoke to him—”
“Please,” said the woman. “My daughter!”
“I’m sorry,” Luis said, shaking his head, glancing at the door.
“What’s wrong with her?” Corny asked.
“She sees these boys all the time hanging around the park,” the woman told Corny. “They’re pretty but they’re trouble. Not human. One day they bother Lala and she insults them. Then this. Nothing in the botánica is helping.”
“You should both go wait in the other room,” Luis said, rolling up the sleeves of his coat. “This is about to get messy.”
“I’m good here,” Corny said, trying to seem unimpressed. He had several different fantasies of himself that he lik
ed to trot out when he was feeling miserable. In one, he was the scary lunatic—the guy who was going to snap one day and bury the bodies of all the people who’d wronged him in a mass grave in the backyard. Then there was the misunderstood genius, the person whom everyone discounted but who triumphed in the end through his superior competence. And the most pathetic fantasy of all—that he had some secret mutant power he was always on the verge of discovering.
“I need her to lie down on the floor.” Luis walked over to the tiny kitchen and came back with a crude knife. The woman’s eyes never left the blade. “Cold iron.”
Luis actually had a secret power and was competent. That pissed Corny off. All he had was cursed hands.
“What’s that for?” Lala asked.
Luis shook his head. “I won’t cut you. I promise.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, but the girl seemed reassured and sank down onto the floor. The vines squirmed under her skin, rippling as they shifted. Lala winced and cried out.
Kaye looked up at Corny and raised her eyebrows.
Luis crouched over Lala, straddling her slender body.
“He knows what to do, yes?” the woman asked Corny.
Corny nodded. “Sure.”
Luis reached into his pocket and scattered a white substance—maybe salt—over the girl’s body. She bucked, screaming. The vines crawled like snakes.
“He’s hurting her!” Lala’s mother gasped.
Luis didn’t even glance up. He threw another handful, and Lala shrieked. Her skin stretched and rippled away from the salt, up into her neck, choking her.
Her mouth opened, but instead of a sound, thorn-covered branches burst out, winding toward Luis. He slashed at them with his knife. The iron cut through the vines easily, but more came, splitting and curling like tentacles, grabbing for him.
Corny yelled, pulling his legs up onto the couch. Kaye stared in horror. Lala’s mother’s cries had become one long teakettle scream.
One branch wrapped around Luis’s wrist, while others crawled toward his waist and writhed along the floor. The long thorns sank into his skin. Lala’s eyes rolled back in her head, and her body convulsed. Her lips shone with blood.
Luis dropped the knife and wrapped his hands around the stems, ripping the brambles even as they coiled around his hands.