13 Curses (27 page)

The figure reached out and ran a finger along something on the bedside table. On the finger was a silver ring with something inscribed into its stone. A familiar shape jumped out at her: a set of wings. There was a low noise then, a barely disguised masculine guffaw. Then the item, which Rowan now realized was her beloved book, was lifted and slipped into the folds of the figure’s coat. This action was enough to make Rowan react, her fear overridden by anger. As her eyes snapped open with her mouth, ready to shout, the figure turned away from her.

As it did, Rowan’s words died on her lips. A waft of air fanned from two great wings protruding from the intruder’s back. The fairy moved toward the door, pausing by James’s crib and gazing in. Its reason for being there could not have been clearer.

Not James,
Rowan thought
. Not James. He’s protected.
Even though she was terrified, she was comforted by the thought that the protection of the red tea towel would shield her brother from fey eyes. So when the fairy, after one last glance her way, reached inside the crib, Rowan was paralyzed with shock as her sleeping brother was effortlessly lifted into its arms. Then, through the door it went, as soundlessly as it had arrived.

Suddenly, Rowan snapped out of it. She threw back the bedclothes and flew out into the empty hallway. Her hair whipped into her eyes as she turned her head this way and that, searching. At the end of the corridor was the fire exit, a sturdy wooden door with a set of stone steps leading
to safety in the back gardens. The door was open, and through it she saw the fey creature cradling her brother at the top of the steps. Now that she was able to see more clearly, she could judge from the fairy’s size and features that it was male, with a hard-faced, flat-nosed profile. A lumpy scar bisected his upper lip.

To shout and raise the alarm when no one but herself would see the intruder would have been pointless. Her only weapon was the element of surprise. As the fairy’s wings lifted and flexed in the air, Rowan broke into a stealthy run. He had lowered into a crouch, ready to take flight, when, hearing her approaching footsteps, he turned suddenly. By then, Rowan had launched herself into the air. He grunted as her attack made contact—and then, knocked off balance, they toppled over the handrail and plummeted twelve feet to the grass below.

Rowan had the advantage of being lighter. The intruder landed on his back, bearing the brunt of the weight of all three of them. In the seconds following their landing, she realized he was winded and struggling for breath. She heaved herself backward, and reached out to snatch James from the fairy’s grip. James was crying plaintively now, and as the sound echoed into the night, Rowan felt sure someone would wake and come out. But as she looked back up at the fire exit, she saw that the heavy door had quietly closed behind them—shutting her, and most of the sound, out.

Strong fingers snared her wrist. Gasping, she turned back. The intruder had recovered sufficiently to grab her and was now twisting her hand cruelly behind her back,
forcing her down on her knees into the grass. The intruder stood up, still twisting.

“Why doesn’t she call for help?” His low voice, evidently addressing someone other than her, came as a shock.

“Probably because she knows it won’t do much good,” said another voice, a little way away.

Rowan forced her head to the side, searching the moonlit gardens. There, beneath the apple tree was a second figure. A lookout. The voice was male also, but his face remained hidden in the shadows.

“Take the child,” the first fairy instructed his accomplice.

“What? Wait, now… Snatcher, all you said was that I would have to keep watch. That’s it. I don’t want any other part of this.”

“I said, take the child,” Snatcher hissed. “And keep it quiet.”

“Please, don’t take him!” Rowan begged. A jerk to her arm shut her up.

Reluctantly, the second figure slid out from under the tree. His face was obscured by a hood.

“Please,” she tried again. “Don’t take my brother. Don’t hurt him!”

“Hurt him?” Snatcher chuckled softly. “What gives you that impression, you foolish girl?”

“What are you going to do with him?” she asked fearfully. “What do you want with all these children?” James was out of sight now, tucked away in the dusky folds beneath the tree with the accomplice.

“What we want is no business of yours,” Snatcher said softly, dangerously. “And the fact that you can see us does
not make it so. Be assured, the child will be well cared for. So I suggest you go back to your nice warm bed and forget you ever had a brother.”

“Never!”

The low chuckle came again. “You are a fiery one, aren’t you?” He lifted a handful of her hair. “Fiery, just like your red hair.”

Tears ran down Rowan’s face. Her one good arm was still in his grasp. Her other arm hung uselessly at her side in its plaster. Yet, even as she thought it, she wondered whether it really was so useless….

“If you take him, I’ll find you,” she said through her teeth. “I won’t rest until I get him back!”

Snatcher gave an amused whistle.

“You hear that?” he called into the shadows. “She’s just made me a promise.” He leaned closer, his breath rushing past her ear. “The thing is, I don’t like promises that can’t be kept. They upset me.” He released his grip on her arm, and she collapsed forward in relief.

“Now, go,” he threatened. “Before you come to real harm.”

Rowan stayed where she was, allowing herself a couple of little sobs. Just enough time to make it seem convincing that she was beaten. Then in one fluid motion she was on her feet, twisting her body around with her plastered arm cutting through the air. It slammed into Snatcher’s jaw. A split second later he spat teeth and blood. Rowan ran for the trees.

She had only taken a few paces when from behind her she heard a growl and a swoop. Snatcher had sprung into
the air. Once more she was taken down, and this time, as he kicked her over to face him, she knew she really was in trouble. His eyes glowed red as he leaned over her.

“That was a mistake.” He grabbed her by her hair and forced her to her knees. “I was willing to go easy on you,” he said through a crooked jaw. “I like your spirit. But now I’m tired of being patient. And when people cross me, I like to leave them a little souvenir.”

“What do you mean, a souvenir?” Rowan gasped.

“Come on, Snatcher,” his companion called anxiously. “She’s just a child.”

“Something to remember me by,” Snatcher said, his words wet and bloody. His companion remained quiet. “Just in case you ever think of trying to cross me again.” He laughed. “What do you say?” he called to his hidden companion. “Shall I give her some wings?”

“What do you mean? What are you doing?” Rowan struggled, swinging her plaster behind her once more, trying to catch his knees—but this time he was too quick for her, dancing out of her way. She felt her hair being yanked from her nape and twisted into Snatcher’s meaty fist. As it grew tighter, pulling at the tender skin on her neck, she suddenly felt something cold and hard being pressed into her skin. An image of Snatcher’s ring with its wing insignia flashed into her mind. Then a white-hot, excruciating pain seared into the center of her back at the top of her shoulders. It felt like her back had been set on fire.

She screamed—then choked on grass as Snatcher pressed her face into the earth, cutting off her cries. Then the pressure relented and a new sound filled her ears—a cry of
pain deeper and louder than her own. Lifting herself to her elbows, she spat dirt out of her mouth and rolled onto her back. It was then that she saw golden light flickering, illuminating the darkness—and the rest of what was happening.

A terrible smell wafted over her, along with howls of pain and fury. Snatcher’s wings had burst into flame, and now he was batting at them with his hands and shrieking incantations to try to put them out. But nothing seemed to work. In the time it took for his companion to reach him, the flames, and his wings, were gone.

“My wings!” Snatcher screamed, as he was led away. “My beautiful wings! What has she done to them? How did she do that? The little witch!”

Weakly, Rowan tried to stand, but the pain on her back was too much to withstand. She lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness as Snatcher and his companion vanished into the night… taking her little brother with them.

“That was the last time I ever saw my brother,” said Red, staring into her beesmead. She lifted her hand to the top of her back, tracing the burn.

It was late now, and quiet in the Pauper’s Platter; most of the customers had either left or retired to their rooms. Only a few stragglers remained, the occasional drunken snore reaching them from where someone had fallen asleep on a table, or under it.

“My shouts finally woke some of the staff and the children who were left. I was hysterical at first, shouting about fairies, but of course, no one listened. Eventually I calmed down. I had to think quickly, but I was in a lot of pain. I hid the burn and dealt with it alone. I couldn’t think of a way to explain it. When the police arrived I told them that I’d seen someone take James, and ran after them. It was the truth, just not the
complete truth. The area was searched, but of course they never found anything.

“The next day they moved me to London. By then, I’d thought it all through. I knew that if I went to live with my aunt Rose there would be no chance of finding James ever again. So I waited until my plaster was taken off two weeks later, packed a few essentials, and ran away. It’s easy to disappear in London. So many people, and no one even looks at you.” She stopped to stifle a yawn, and Stitch placed a hand on her arm.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said. “We need to get some rest if we’re to leave early.”

Gredin nodded, looking thoughtful.

“You’re sure that neither of your parents… had the second sight?” he asked.

Red shook her head in surprise. “I’m sure,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” said Gredin, but his eyes did not meet hers.

They rose from the table and found their rooms. As the goblin had described, they were small, but as Red sank down into a feather-stuffed mattress and wrapped a fur around herself, it was the biggest luxury she’d had in a long time.

Raven found them the next morning as they were saddling up and preparing to leave.

“The housekeeper is safe. The gypsy woman found her in the woods near Tinker’s End.”

“
Tinker’s
End?” Red interrupted. “Do you mean
Tickey
End?”

Gredin shook his head.

“Tinker’s End is the name of the area in the fairy realm,” he said. “Sometimes, in your world, the names have merged to become something similar. Occasionally, you will even find that some place names are exactly the same. It’s a result of the two worlds mixing over many years—things overlap.”

“That makes sense,” said Red.

They mounted the horses and set off. This time, Stitch took the colt and Gredin and Raven rode the stallion. A chilly breeze curled around them as they traveled, a stark reminder that summer was over. The dark months were beginning.