Bad Luck Girl (17 page)

I’d done it again. I’d trusted my magic, and it had taken me right out of my good sense. Somebody’d reeled me in to this place like a fish on a line, and I hadn’t even noticed. I didn’t even know what part of the city I was in.

Then I saw how one of the door’s glass panes had been smashed out, right above its handle. I lifted my hand back slow. The door was open, just a crack. You wouldn’t even notice unless you were standing right up close, like I was now.

“You came,” said a voice from inside. “By my blood and bones, you came.”

The door swung open and I jumped back at the same time. The man on the other side stood swaying on his feet. He was a fairy, and he was trying to pull an illusion over himself, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He kept flickering. In one eyeblink, he was a bald, wrinkled little white man in a cardigan sweater. In the next, he was a black man in a torn-up suit, hunched over and breathing hard. One hand was shoved in his coat pocket, and the other clutched a black cane with a handle made out of the biggest diamond ever seen.

I recognized that cane. “I know you.”

He didn’t answer right away, and I felt something I never had from a Seelie or an Unseelie either: shame. It was like I’d caught him with his shirttail hanging out. He bent low, and lower, and I realized he was trying to bow.

“We met, once,” he said. “At the Kansas City gate. I am major domo to the Midnight Throne, and their Unseelie majesties.” He tried to bow again, but he shivered so much doing it, I was afraid he was going to fall flat on his face. He was wearing a gray shirt and a dark suit with a bright red vest. The front of the vest was splotchy. Something wet had been splashed all over it.

“Will Your Highness be pleased to step inside?” He turned toward the shop. He didn’t pull his one hand out of his pocket. The one that held the cane was covered in a white glove, and it was damp-stained like his vest.

The major domo noticed how I hadn’t moved. The news he worked for my grandparents did not give me any reason at all to walk anywhere with him, let alone into someplace where the door could be locked behind me. Truth was, I was a lot closer to running away than following. He probably figured that out because he started shaking all over so bad that if he’d been human, I would have thought he had the ague.

“I swear by my true name you will come to no harm from me or my errand,” he said, his words low and urgent. Perspiration dripped down his shining cheeks. “I am specifically forbidden by my nature and my office from working harm against you.
Please
, Your Highness.”

He was telling the truth. I could feel it, like I could feel the effort it was taking for him to stand there. But I didn’t trust any of it. After all the mistakes I’d made and all the trouble I’d met, how could I? But I didn’t run. I kind of sidled up to that doorway, one hand in my own pocket so I
could hang on to Papa’s glass marble of a wish. I put my other palm up to the threshold, and waited to feel the twisty lock-and-key sensation that meant this was a door out of the world. But there was nothing. This was a regular human shop on a regular human street.

The major domo’s right knee buckled and he caught himself. I felt the shame curling out of him again, cold and sad. If this was a trap, somebody was pouring it on pretty thick. But then, that was what they did, wasn’t it?

“You go first,” I said.

Major inclined his head, and turned, slowly. His cane thumped heavily on the floorboards as he moved. He was hurting. I wanted to feel sorry for him, but I didn’t dare. But I did take a deep breath and step over the threshold to walk inside.

Lester & Shale was a bookstore. The smells of paper, ink, and dust surrounded me. High shelves were crammed solidly together and towered over the dim, narrow aisles like the buildings towered over the alley outside. Every shelf was stuffed full of books: all kinds of books, from battered paperbacks to faded magazines with torn and curling covers to antique leather-bound volumes—some as narrow as my pinky finger and some as broad as my whole hand. Maybe half of them were actually in English. Books had been laid flat to fill the spaces above the books that stood upright. More books were piled on the floor between the shelves and yet more books spilled out of cardboard boxes and wooden
crates in the corners. At the same time, something important was missing.

“There ain’t no gate here.”

“Not here, no. But … places such as this, so full of heart and imaginings … They welcome our kind and can be made useful.” Major thumped and shuffled to the tiny desk at the end of the aisle. Even this was piled high with books and magazines. “You will forgive me, Your Highness.” He groped for the leather-backed chair and sat down, laying his cane on the desk. “I’m afraid … it has been a long journey.”

I looked around me. My ability to hold on to my suspicions was wearing thin, but I knotted it tight and held on.

“So, where’s the owner?”

Major’s mouth twitched. He might have been trying to smile. “Taking his lunchtime walk in the park,” he said. “I expect it will be a little longer today than usual.” He must have seen the look on my face because he added, “But not by much.”

He was still telling the truth, which was heading into miracle territory. I’d probably never had such a straightforward conversation with a fairy man, and I was counting my father in that. “And you’ve got a message or something from my grandparents, is that it?” I prompted.

“Yes.” Major groped one-handed among the papers on the desk, and winced. He tried to draw back, but I caught his hand. I wanted to see what he had hold of. But his hand was empty. What made him wince was pain.

His glove had been slashed open, and that wasn’t all. A gash stretched across his smooth, brown palm. The liquid that filled the cut wasn’t red, like blood. It was clear, like water but with a weak silver shine to it, and I could see down to the bird-thin bones underneath. The light of the fairy lands running out of his veins, trickling onto the papers and the scarred wooden desk.

He snatched his hand away and shoved it under the desk. “My apologies,” he said.

“That’s okay,” I whispered as I let him go. I blinked at his damp vest, and his damp coat. I swallowed hard and made up my mind. I didn’t trust him and I wasn’t going to trust him. But I wasn’t going to leave him like this either, and if that made me a chump, well, that was the way it was going to be.

I took a deep breath and opened my magic. There was nobody near but me and him, but there were all those books, all that work and love and feeling bound into paper and marked out by ink. Tapping into a static book wasn’t as easy as tapping into living music, but there were a whole lot of them to work with and that kind of made up for it.

Be whole
, I wished toward Major.
Be well
.

Major shuddered, he hunched up even tighter and gasped, and for a second I was scared I’d hurt him worse and tried to shut the wish down. But then his breathing eased, and he lifted his right hand. The glove was still shredded, but the skin underneath was whole, except for one thin white
scar. When he lifted his eyes to me, they were bright with moonlight and starlight like they should have been.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He drew himself up tall and straight, and when he bowed this time it was a crisp, sharp gesture.

“You’re welcome.” I nodded back, already hoping this had not been another mistake. “Now, what’s this message?”

Major gave another bow, and lifted a folded paper out from among the piles of magazines, bills, and receipts. It was thick, cream-colored parchment tied up with a red ribbon. He held it out toward me. This time I backed up.

“Oh, no. I am not touching that.” Last time I had fairy paper in my hands, it did not go so good for me. “Every time my grandparents get near me, they try to haul me in.”

Major sighed. “Their Majesties were afraid you would say something of the kind. They apologize, Your Highness, for past indiscretions. Truly. If you would just …”

“I said no! You want me to know what it says, you read it out.” I folded my arms and waited.

Major sighed, but bowed, again. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter. I thought he would start reading, but he didn’t. He turned the paper toward me.

The other side of the paper was covered in a layer of shining gold. The dim shop light touched it, striking sparks, and bringing up reflections. Being how they were fairy creations, those reflections moved.

There’s a stone wall at the edge of the Unseelie country,
wrapped round with emerald-and-ruby vines. The stones are living goblins, and the vines are their arms, all linked together so they can keep out anybody who ain’t been invited. That wall shimmered in the golden reflection, except the stones had been split open and the clear silver blood flowed out of them. Other stones wrapped their vine arms around their colleagues, and tossed them away, splitting them open. Little white-winged creatures crowded around the broken stones, pure and perfect and shining, just like the pretty, little-girl fairies you see in a picture book, and they were drinking up the silver blood where it poured out. Other shining beings rode past on white horses, their robes trailing into that silver blood, and their banners flapping in the breeze. Every one of them wore a golden mask beneath a golden helmet.

They will be here soon
, whispered my grandmother’s voice from the page.
The army is retreating to the emerald fields. Please, please, you must come. If you do not close the gates, we cannot hold
.

I reached out toward that page, as if I could touch my grandmother’s hand. At the last second, I remembered, and snatched it back. Major winced as if I’d struck him.

“How?” I croaked. “How are they getting in so easy?”

“We were all betrayed,” he told me. “You most of all.”

“Mightily,” added a man’s cheerful voice back in the aisles. “And to top it off, Bad Luck Girl, you’re both too late.”

There were three of them, one to block each aisle of the shop. They were all white men with white hair and white mustaches, dressed up swell in new suits and two-toned shoes with white hats on their heads and watch chains on their white vests. They could have been bankers, or gangsters. The one who spoke out came up the center aisle, and he stood close enough to me that I could see a little charm in the shape of a golden mask dangling from that chain.

“Stay back!” I shouted to Major, and yanked Papa’s wish out of my pocket.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Magic lashed out, fast and strong, and the wish was gone from my hand. The middle man of the three held it up in his thick fingers. Then he popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.

“Mmm.” He licked his pale pink lips slowly. “Tasty.”

His two friends snickered and stepped out into the light. Before I could take another breath, Major had ducked around in front of me and he had his black cane held up high.

“No further,” he whispered, soft and dangerous. “No further or I will make an end of you all, I so swear.”

“Now, brother,” said the middle of the three. “What is this? We’ve just come to bring you news of the peace.”

“Peace?” Major sneered.

“Peace,” repeated the middle man. “And victory. The Midnight Throne calls you back to your service, brother,” he said to the Major. “You hear it now.”

Magic filled those words, thick and smothering and honey-sweet. I jumped back like I thought I could dodge it. But this wasn’t for me. This was for the major domo. The light flickered in his eyes, and his anger melted like ice in July. He lowered his black cane to the floor, and he smiled. I could feel the relief in him as he bent into one of his crisp bows.

“That’s it, brother.” The middle man stepped forward, hand out.

Quick as thinking, Major whipped that diamond-handled cane around and brought it down hard on the middle man’s wrist. His scream ended in a harsh gurgle as Major jabbed the tip into his throat.

“Run!” Major shouted to me. “Run, Highness!”

I didn’t bother answering that one. I snatched up the feeling swirling through the shop around me, and I shoved back hard. Hard enough to rattle the shelves. The left-hand man looked up and raised his arm and his magic. And I grabbed up the Webster’s Dictionary off the desk and threw it at him.

Lefty ducked and swore. I grabbed up another book, and the right-hand man tackled me, hard.

We rolled over, with me screaming and kicking and jabbing my fingers at his eyes and twisting on his ears and him screaming too. My magic lashed out on its own, looking for something it could grab and twist, because I was wishing for help too. Any kind of help.

What it found was the papers and books on the desk, the ones where Major’s blood had spilled and smeared. They twitched and jerked upright and flapped open, bills and receipts and books, and even that dictionary. They rose up, flapping like giant paper birds in a high wind. While I was distracted, Right Hand got hold of my arm and tried to twist it up behind me. I screamed, and those flying books dropped down, right on his head. He let go to bat them away. I shinnied out from under him and shoved my foot hard in his stomach on the way out. Or near his stomach, anyway.

Major was dancing like a prizefighter in front of the desk, beating back both Lefty and Middle Man with his diamond cane and hollering curses at the top of his lungs. The papers must have noticed too, because they swooped down
to plaster themselves against the bad guys’ faces, blinding them. Smothering them. Major flipped his cane around in his hand, so he was swinging with that huge diamond at their knees and their skulls.

I had time to let out one whoop before my feet shot out from under me. I slammed hard against the floor and all the breath left me like it wasn’t ever coming back. Right Hand reared up over me, his fist bunched up tight and his magic pinning me down hard. The Webster’s Dictionary jumped at his head and bounced back a good six inches away. He laughed and swung down, but instead of my head, he hit a big pillow of paper that had balled itself in front of me. I shouted, and rolled, and kicked, and scrambled away. The dictionary fell to the floor and flapped open, releasing a cloud of words. They swarmed around Right Hand’s head like big black wasps, diving for his eyes, and getting into his ears and up his nose, and right down his throat when he tried to scream. He fell back coughing, spitting, and swatting. I levered myself to my feet, a whole swarm of loose paper scrunched up around my ankles.