The Clockwork Fairy Kingdom (12 page)

Nora shrugged. “He had to go get some parts. He was trying
to teach me magic.”

Unease settled along Dale’s spine. “How did that go?”

“Not well.” Nora made a face. “It should be easier, but it
isn’t.”

Relief washed over Dale. “There’s no law that says you have
to be good at everything, you know.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “It isn’t that, stupid. There’s
just—something’s not right. Either in how he’s teaching me or what he’s
teaching me or something.” She sighed. “Maybe I should just help you instead.
Become a Master Tinker too,” she teased.

“You’re the one who’s stupid,” Dale told her. “Seriously,
Nor. Not everything is meant for you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Dale muttered. His hands itched to hold his tools
again, to lose himself in the ebb and flow of gears and works. That was his
space. Not hers.

Dale was the one who was special. Finally.

“You’re demented,” Nora told him.

“Just get out. Leave. Now.” Dale wasn’t in the mood for
trading insults.

“Fine,” Nora said, hopping off Dale’s bed. “I was going to
sneak into the kitchen to get us some ice cream, but now I’m going to have it
all myself.” She flounced from the room.

“Good riddance,” Dale said, staring angrily at the door. He
knew he shouldn’t be angry—it was just Nora being the bossy sister she’d
always been. That night, though, he was tired of her, tired of Mom and her
illness, tired of his entire life. Everything in his room looked dull, even the
pirate chest he’d made. He saw imperfections everywhere: how his dresser didn’t
match his desk; how rickety his lamp was, sitting on the nightstand; how
unorganized and shabby his clothes were.

Dale longed for the cleanliness and perfection of the fairy
kingdom. He couldn’t fly, no, but he felt lighter than air there, deep
underground. Tiredness weighed on him. He forced himself out of his desk chair
and stretched out on his bed, just for a minute or two.

The next thing Dale knew, it was 4 A.M. and he was wide
awake. His first thought was of Queen Adele: He would get to see her again, and
soon. He should prepare before that.

Dale spread the plastic down on the floor, hating how it
stuck to his palms and the crackling noise he made. Then he got out the fairy
machinery from his sad pirate chest, along with all the pieces he’d removed.
Now that he’d seen Master Thaddeus’ machine, he had a much better idea how this
one worked. It was like a prototype, a miniature version of the bigger one. The
secondary system wasn’t for redundancy, but efficiency, to store extra energy.

Like most machines, this one took energy in one form and
converted it to another. However, fairy magic powered it. Dale traced how the
power was stored then let out, slowly, doing—something. Queen Adele had
told Dale the machine created a great barrier that would keep the fairies safe
from the humans.

Although Dale had the greatest respect for his queen, in
this instance, she was wrong. Either that, or she didn’t fully understand the
machine. He hadn’t tried to correct her, though, as he was still learning.

Dale took apart the wire he’d strung, replacing the primary
motion works, setting the balances and levers. He longed for Thaddeus’ tools—all
the screws had those special, three-pronged heads.

Finally, when Dale had finished reassembling the piece, he
sat back on his heels and stared at it. It still wouldn’t work yet. It needed
fairy power.

Then Dale remembered the stone his queen had given him. He
took it out of his pocket, looked at it, then at the machine. He felt
surprisingly reluctant to part with it, but his curiosity about the machine was
greater. He put the stone on the opening for the mainspring, then sat back
again.

Nothing happened.

Dale got out one of his longer screwdrivers, jimmied it
behind the case, and manually turned the primary gear.

The machine began to hum. It vibrated as other gears began
to turn. Then it started to glow blue.

The lights went out.

“Dang it,” Dale said. The queen had been right—the
machine must emit some sort of barrier—but how did that interfere with
the lights? He picked up the stone and put it back in his pocket, relieved to
be touching it again.

The alarm clock next to Dale’s bed blinked 12 A.M. He looked
out the window. It was already daylight. He must have been working a couple of
hours. How early did fairies get up? Could Dale go see Adele again right now?
His mom would kill him, and maybe ground him, if he just disappeared before
breakfast.

With a sigh, Dale returned to his bed, watching the blue
glow slowly fade from his little machine. Soon, he wouldn’t have to wait. He’d
be sixteen soon enough. Then he’d be able to see his queen whenever he wanted.
He could be as light as air in the machine room.

In his dreams, Dale was back in the kingdom, dancing with
Adele. She used her wings so she was as tall as he was. Around and around they
went. When the queen pulled away, Dale still danced after her. She laughed as
she floated through the air, calling his name, drawing him forward, faster and
faster.

When Dale woke, Queen Adele’s call still rang in his ears.
He had to go see his queen. Now.

***

Denise found herself underwater. She didn’t remember going
under the waves—just looking up at the sun from under miles of green
water. She floated, peaceful for a moment, until she tried to breathe. Each
breath scored Denise’s lungs, as if she swallowed smoke, not water. She tried
to kick her legs, but the sea had grown viscous and gelatinous. She could
barely move. Finally she shook one arm free, clawing her way up and out…

…just to find herself tangled in damp sheets, her heart
still racing, her lungs burning.

Denise lay back on the bed, trying to relax. Clouds filled
the sky outside her window. The unseasonable heat was over; the more usual fog
and cold had returned. Locals joked that their two days of summer were now
over. The day still seemed brighter than it should. She forced herself to her
side, rolling her aching body over, to see her alarm.

It blinked at her: 2:45 A.M.

Cursing, Denise wrenched back the sheets and shot out of
bed. The world instantly turned black. Denise felt her heart skip. Her left
side ached, and pain echoed down her arm. No. She was not having a heart
attack. The battery on her pacemaker had not gone out. She would make it until
Friday before she replaced it.

Slowly, light crept back in. Denise dragged one foot in
front of the other, making it first to the door of her bedroom, then out into
the hall.

Both Nora’s and Dale’s doors stood open, their rooms empty.

“Kids! Time for school!” Denise called.

Nora’s giggle from the kitchen greeted her. “Mom! There’s no
school today!”

Denise stopped, leaning against the wall. Was it a holiday?
The weekend? Why weren’t the twins at school?

“Jeez, Mom, you okay?”

Denise looked up. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said automatically.
Nora wore her Franken-sweater over a pair of shorts. Denise finally remembered.
Summer break.

“Where’s Dale?” Denise asked, pushing herself off the wall
and heading for the kitchen. Coffee. And lots of it. That was what the morning
called for.

“He went to see Adele,” Nora said sourly.

Denise looked at Nora. She wasn’t used to seeing such a pout
on her daughter’s face. “Kind of hard for your brother to be making new friends
like that?” she asked.

“I’m sure Adele’s cool and all, but he’s acting weird about
her.”

“He might just be feeling shy,” Denise said, remembering the
previous afternoon. She noticed she was starting to feel better, moving around
the kitchen. The smell of coffee helped.

Nora snorted. “Not likely.”

Denise wished yet again for a user manual for dealing with
the twins. Nora would have instantly denied that she felt jealous of Adele,
though it was obvious to Denise.

“We just need to give him some time,” Denise assured Nora as
she started making some toast. “He’ll come back to us after a while.”

Nora looked at her with disbelief.

Denise bit back her sigh. “We just have to let it run its
course.”

“
Mmm
hmm,” Nora said, noncommittally.
“Your toast is burning,” she pointed out as she left the kitchen.

Denise winced when Nora closed the door to her room. Her
daughter was right in some ways. Dale was a growing boy, soon to be a man. He’d
started moving apart from them a while ago. Things would never be the same as
they’d once been. She didn’t know if Dale and Nora would ever be as close.

However, Nora was also wrong. Dale was still her son, Nora’s
twin. He’d never outgrow that, and after he was older, he’d remember it. This
pulling away was just part of growing up, as was the coming back. Denise felt
certain that Dale would always come back to them, as long as there were something
worth coming back to.

Dale remembered to check himself out on the board in the
kitchen, as well as to write that he was going to see Adele, not Queen Adele.
He left the quiet ticking clock and the soft whir of the refrigerator of the
kitchen, and stepped into the stillness of the morning. Gray clouds spread like
a lumpy blanket across the sky. Dale couldn’t hear the interstate or the ocean,
just the occasional honking seagull and leaves rustling.

It wasn’t until Dale reached the path to the abandoned
cottage that he realized he’d forgotten to eat. He paused, looking back up the
dirt road, considering. Black crows watched him in the distance. Should he go
back? No—Mom might be up. Or Nora. Dale didn’t want to talk with either
of them, to ruin the morning.

The grass before Dale swayed with a wind he didn’t feel. He
wondered if unseen fairies watched him. Either them, or
Kostya
.
Determined, Dale pushed forward down the path. He trusted the dwarf less and
less. Was he teaching Nora proper magic? Maybe Nora couldn’t learn or do
anything. Dale smiled grimly. Nora had always been the special one, the smart
one, the artist. Now, Dale was the important one, the one with a cause and a
destiny.

A haunted air wrapped around the abandoned cottage. Dale
shivered in the cold ocean wind. More trash had piled up around the foundation
of the house, while the ground looked burnt. Dale knew it was just an illusion.
Queen Adele must have changed it, charged it up. He found himself smiling
despite how creepy the house looked—no one else, no other human, need
apply. He already had the job of Tinker for the kingdom.

When Dale approached the house, the gears on the handle
turned smoothly and the door swung open as if he had his own magic. The thrill
made him grin. Nora wasn’t the only one who was special.

Nothing inside the house had changed or grown more sinister.
A fairy light winked into existence near the center of the ceiling. Dale picked
up the machine for opening the archway and pressed the levers.

Nothing happened.

Dale examined the machine. The levers were the same.
However, the barrel had shifted slightly. This meant that the combination would
change by a predictable amount every time he used it successfully. He pressed
the new combination, relieved when the familiar blue glow began and the doorway
opened.

Eagerly, Dale went through the arch and down the stairs.
This time he noticed how the air grew cooler and more dusty. Did the fairies
have some kind of air filtration system? He would have to ask.

At the bottom of the stairs, Dale looked out across the
valley. It was as beautiful as he remembered, filled with wooden houses and
thatched roofs. Off beyond the golden tower he now noticed more open areas;
fields, he assumed. In the other direction stood the gleaming factory where the
fairies made the parts for the great machine. Dale hoped he could visit it
soon.

Next to the fountain sat a tall fairy with an expansive
chest, large wings, and gray hair. Fear spiked through Dale until he realized
the fairy was fully clothed, which the queen had told him meant the fairy wasn’t
a warrior. He wore a white–and-red striped shirt covered by an old-fashioned
gray vest that had a black collar. Jeweler’s tools hung from his gold watch
chain and many rings covered his fingers. More than one set of goggles sat
stacked up on the brim of his top hat, and his blue eyes looked almost human.

“Hello, young man,” the fairy said, pushing himself to his
feet with his cane.

“Hello,” Dale said, stopping.

“Fine day to work on some machinery, wouldn’t you say?”

Dale grinned. “Yes, it is.” When the fairy just stood there,
rocking back and forth on his heels, Dale added, “I’m Dale.”

“Hmm. Yes. Pleased to meet you. You may call me Cornelius.”
He continued to study Dale carefully.

Dale fidgeted. He was glad that he had a clean shirt and
shoes this time, but he was still aware that he wasn’t dressed well according
to fairy standards.

“I hope you have a good day,” Dale said, not sure what else
to say to the fairy.

Before Dale could start walking again to the palace,
Cornelius spoke up. “Yes, yes, let’s get to work, shall we?” He turned and led
the way to the palace, pointing out different plants as they walked. Dale tried
to hold in his sigh of exasperation. Cornelius must have heard it, because he
chided Dale, saying, “A Tinker must know a little about everything. Perhaps a
growing vine will inspire your next mainspring, or a new fruit will provide the
perfect oil.”

Dale didn’t want to admit that Cornelius was right, but he
probably was. Nora always talked about the cross-pollination of ideas, as if it
was something she’d invented, but actually, Mrs.
Bagare
had taught it to them in history. So Dale tried to pay attention, even though
he didn’t really care about the English, Latin, and fairy names for mint.

When they finally reached the machine room, Dale eagerly
looked around. No one waited for them there. “Where’s the queen?”

“She put me in charge of you for the day,” Cornelius said
gently.

Dale crumpled. He
needed
to see his queen.

“It will be all right, lad,” Cornelius said, coming over to
pat his back. “She’ll stop by later, I’m sure.”

“Really?” Dale asked, hope rising.

“Really.”

Dale opened the closet that contained his fairy kingdom work
clothes, eager to put on the fine silk. “Then let’s get started. I want to have
a lot to show her by the time she comes.”

***

“Cornelius, can you hand me that gear?” Dale asked, pointing
to the pile he’d carefully placed next to his foot. He didn’t want to let go of
the bracket he currently held open. When Cornelius reached for the smallest
gear, he said, “No, the twelve tooth.”

“You’re not going to put it there, are you?” Cornelius
asked, horrified.

“Yes. Once we’ve made the adjustments to the pallet
levers—”

“It completely ruins the ratio of gears to spring!”
Cornelius said, stubbornly holding onto the gear Dale had requested.

“As I said, we can make the adjustments afterward. But we
need this much power for the main motion works,” Dale pointed out. “Otherwise
the energy won’t transfer from the top works to the bottom.”

Cornelius looked askance at the path Dale traced. “The power
doesn’t need to travel that direction.”

Dale sighed. Cornelius knew a lot about ratios and loads,
but he couldn’t apply any of it. Couldn’t he see how the energy needed to flow?
Dale let go of the bracket and stepped back, drawing Cornelius with him. “Look,
here’s the main power receptacle, right there, okay? Fairy magic or something,”
Dale said, pointing to a funnel high on the right side, near one of the
balconies.

“Yes,” Cornelius said slowly.

“Then it powers this main works here, which transfers the
energy down and stores it here, then it soaks into these wires and winds its
way back up, out the top, there,” Dale said. Couldn’t he see it? It was obvious
to Dale.

Cornelius stood for a moment, tracing the route up and down
with his hand, talking to himself, using fairy terms that Dale didn’t know. He
abruptly turned to Dale. “You know what this machine does?”

Dale shrugged. “Emits a barrier or some kind of energy force
field, to keep your people safe.”

“Exactly, my boy,” Cornelius said, patting Dale on the
forearm. However, his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Either he was displeased
that Dale understood so much about the machine, or...

...or it did something else. Dale suddenly suspected its
real purpose, but he wouldn’t know for certain until he got back to the smaller
version in his room.

Cornelius seemed subdued for the rest of the afternoon.
Instead of trying to direct Dale, he just listened or did as Dale asked.

“It’s time for you to go home,” Cornelius said when Dale
rose from the floor and suddenly swayed, the edges of his vision grown dark.

“But the queen—” Dale so wanted to see her.

“No,” Cornelius said. “You will see her tomorrow. I will
personally escort her here myself. I promise. Now, you must go back to your
home. Eat. Rest.”

At the mention of food, Dale suddenly realized he hadn’t
eaten all day. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Cornelius said. “Well past time for you to be home.”

Dale dawdled changing back into his human clothes, but the queen
never came. He made Cornelius promise him again that he’d see her tomorrow
before trudging up the stairs and home, alone. With every step, his soul grew
more heavy. He resented the open air, the breeze on his face, the poor jeans
and shirt he had to wear. Maybe when he saw the queen he could ask for a home
in the kingdom and never be parted from her again.

***

The ringing of the front doorbell startled Nora. She looked
up from her work.
Kostya
still sat in the corner,
putting together his little insect. Her mom was probably asleep.

Nora pushed herself off her bed, telling
Kostya
,
“I’ll be right back.” He grunted and retuned to working.

Who could be at the door? Nobody ever came to the house.
Nora peeked through the curtains next to the door, then with relief opened it
to their landlord, Mr. Patterson.

“Hi there, Nora,” Mr. Patterson said, grinning. His usual
cap covered his head, leaving just the tips of his peeling ears uncovered.
Despite the omnipresent hat, Mr. Patterson’s face was very tan, making his eyes
very blue and his teeth very white. “Is your mom home?”

“Yeah, but she’s sleeping,” Nora said, feeling protective of
her. “I can go and wake her up, if you really want,” she added reluctantly.

“No, no, that’s okay. Just wanted to check on a couple
things. Like coming here Friday night?”

Nora nodded, feeling obliged to add, “Not like we need a
babysitter or anything.”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Mr. Patterson assured her. “Just
hanging out together.” He paused, looked over his right shoulder, then back at
Nora. “Since your Mom’s asleep, want to come look at something?”

“Sure,” Nora said, gladly stepping out of the house. She
stretched her fingers and rolled her wrists as she followed Mr. Patterson to
the side of the house. She’d been working too long.

“Now, what do you think about a line of trees, right here?”
Mr. Patterson asked, drawing a line with the tip of a shovel along the dirt. “It’ll
give your place more privacy. And more protection.”

“Protection?” Nora asked.

“Oh, you know. From the wind.”

Nora looked at the line Mr. Patterson had drawn. Strong
winds came from the coast. The line of trees he proposed was perpendicular to
the ocean, not parallel. Maybe the first tree would protect them from the wind,
but not the others.

“What kind of trees?” Nora asked as Mr. Patterson unhooked
his tape measurer from his belt. She held one end as directed while he walked
off with the other.

“Rowans,” Mr. Patterson replied. “And myrtle. Got solid
roots. Good for—you know. Protection.” Mr. Patterson looked at Nora with
his piercing blue eyes, examining her now.

Nora felt stupid saying something out loud to a grownup
about fairies, so instead she replied, “Um...against all kinds…who may come
here?”

“Yes,” Mr. Patterson said, nodding. “All kinds of creatures.
Hmm.” He walked into the backyard, looking at the trees there.

“What else might protect someone from all kinds of
creatures?” Nora asked as Mr. Patterson measured the distance between some of
the trees.

“Daisies,” Mr. Patterson told her, still looking at the
trees and measuring distances with his tape measure. “Could wear them in your
hair. Some of the old folks in town swear by St. John’s
wort
,
though I don’t think it’s that effective. Cold iron, of course. And magnets.
Electricity.”

“Is that why the power goes out sometimes?” Nora asked.

“Does it keep going out?” Mr. Patterson asked, finally
turning and looking at her. “I added some protection to your house. To the roof
and the doors.”

“But not the windows,” Nora said, remembering how
Kostya
had shivered the few times he’d come into the house
through the front door.

“I can put some on the windows,” Mr. Patterson told her.

“That might be good,” Nora said. She still felt cautious
about saying more.

“If you ever need any help, you just say the word,” Mr.
Patterson told her as he picked up his tools and headed for his truck. “I’ve
lived in these parts a long time, seen lots of strange goings-on.”

“I will,” Nora promised.

“I’ll be by tomorrow with your trees,” Mr. Patterson said. “They’ll
help your family sleep better. Fewer bad dreams. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Nora told him. She stayed in the yard, arms
crossed over her chest in the cool air, watching him drive away. She didn’t
know if she would call on their landlord for anything. She didn’t know him well
enough. However, his offer made her feel less alone.

When Nora returned to the house, she first went to the
kitchen for a snack before going back to her room. Munching on an apple, Nora
opened the door to her room. Something the size of her hand flew at her. Nora
choked down a scream as her back hit the door.

“Cute, eh?”
Kostya
asked, coming
over to retrieve his “pet.”

Nora’s heart still beat loudly in her chest. “What is that?”

“It’s my
ohotnik
,”
Kostya
said proudly. It
wrapped its front legs around his wrist and shivered when he stroked a finger
down its back.

Dead black eyes stared at Nora. A long red jewel made up its
body, as if it were full of blood. The wings weren’t too bad, made of filigreed
wire, except they flapped with an annoying buzzing sound. The back of its head
lay open, showing the moving gears. “What’s it for?” Nora asked.