The Clockwork Fairy Kingdom (15 page)

Robert leaned in, beckoning Palace closer. “You’ve just
foiled a child kidnapping,” he said urgently.

Palace leaned back, considering Robert for a moment. “What
do you mean?”

Robert looked from side to side. “Not here. Not now. Meet me
at Kitty’s Diner. 2 PM. Come alone. And I’ll bring you proof.” Robert turned on
his heel and quickly walked away before Palace could ask him anything else.

Another officer said something. Robert heard Palace’s
booming laugh behind him. He also felt the officer’s watchful eye on him the
entire time.

***

Nora didn’t have a plan for getting away from Mr. Patterson.
She couldn’t drive, couldn’t say she’d walk back into town. When they pulled up
to the house, she told him, “You don’t have to come into the house. I won’t be
long. I just have to get some things.”

“Like an overnight bag for your mom. I understand,” Mr. Patterson
said, nodding, then looking away.

“Exactly!” Nora said. “And for me and Dale.” Once she pulled
him out of the fairy kingdom they were all staying at the hospital, at Mom’s
side. Nora would fight all the doctors. Her family wasn’t going to be separated.

“Okay,” Mr. Patterson said easily. “I’ll just go look at the
tree line, make some more measurements.”

“Thanks, Mr. Patterson,” Nora told him. “Thank you for
everything.”

“Done little enough, but you’re welcome.”

Nora ran into the house before she broke down and told Mr.
Patterson more than she should. The couch in the living room was still pushed
to the side from when the paramedics had moved it for the emergency gurney. The
sour smell of medicine clung to the air.

Chaos reigned in Mom’s room. The sheets lay heaped on the
floor, along with wrappers and gloves from the medical workers. Nora shuddered
and turned away. Her own room wasn’t much better. In her haste to gather
supplies, she’d thrown what she hadn’t wanted across the room. Normally, there
was some order to her mess. Now, it was the sty her brother had always accused
it of being.

A knock on the window startled Nora. She lifted the shade,
expecting Mr. Patterson.

The ugliness of the creature standing there made Nora take a
step back. Like the fairies, it had a bony ridge for a nose. Unlike Adele,
though, the rest of its skin was pocked and marked, with rivers of wrinkles
running around its eyes, crossing its cheeks. A mole grew high on its right
cheek and two long hairs, like whiskers, sprouted out of it. Infected sores
dotted its jaw.

Nora gasped when she recognized the golden eyes that stared
at her:
Kostya
. “You said your people couldn’t do
illusions,” she hissed, drawing closer to the window.

The dwarf shrugged. “No. I said the fairies were good at
them, and that we were good at seeing through them. I didn’t say we couldn’t do
them, just not as well.” He peered at her. “You figured out the knots, then.”

“No thanks to you.”

Kostya
raised one crooked eyebrow.
“Everything is thanks to me, my dear. You wouldn’t have started without my
first lesson.”

“What do you want?” Nora asked, stubbornly refusing to
acknowledge his contribution.

“I wanted to see how you were doing, my protégé.”

“Liar.”

The dwarf grinned at her with crooked yellow teeth. “True. I
wanted to steal the fairy machine your brother had.”

“He took it with him this morning,” Nora admitted.

“Ah,”
Kostya
said, nodding. “He
won’t come back.”

“I’m going to go get him,” Nora told him. “I’m going to drag
him out of there.”

“Does Queen Adele already have his name?”

“Yes,” Nora said bitterly.

The dwarf looked thoughtful for a moment. “Remind him of
yours,” he said. “That might break the spell. However, he has to
want
to come back. That’s always the
problem when humans enter the fairy kingdom.”

Nora nodded. “Thank you.”

Kostya
beamed at her. “You’re
welcome. Now why don’t I distract old Eli so you can sneak away?”

“Why would you help me?” Nora asked, puzzled.

“I hate the fairies,”
Kostya
confided in her.

“But—”

“You go get your brother. While you still can.”

The dwarf tottered off without another word. Nora didn’t
understand what game the dwarf played, but she knew he spoke the truth: He
hated the fairies. She looked around her room, trying to decide what would help
her break her brother free. She was still wearing her Franken-sweater over a
T-shirt and shorts, and decided that was good enough. She picked up three of
the magnets from the window sill and put them in her pocket. The daisy from her
mom’s room was still in her other pocket, slightly squished but recognizable.
She took more string as well, though she didn’t have time to tie another
bracelet.

Nora had no idea how
Kostya
planned to distract Mr. Patterson. Though she didn’t trust the dwarf, she
believed he’d do this for her. He’d spoken the truth when he said he hated the
fairies. She wondered again why he’d encouraged Dale to work with them. What
was his real plan?

When Nora checked the side door that opened into the garage,
she didn’t see anyone in the front yard. Mr. Patterson’s truck was still parked
across the street. Nora hurried away, forcing her way through the dusty tall
grass along the side of the road. It was slower, but she hoped she’d be more
hidden.

Once Nora made it around the bend in the road, she pushed
out of the grass onto the gravel. She listened for any cars, but only heard the
cycling cry of the cicadas. Gulls sounded their lonely call from the ocean.
Nora jogged up the road. Dust coated her tongue. The sun had burned through all
the clouds. She wished she had some water. She could make out more than one
path superimposed on the road, thanks to her newfound ability to see everything
clearly.

It didn’t take Nora long to reach the abandoned cottage. She
could tell, instantly, that the fairies had
enspelled
the house with magic, dark and real. Red paint bubbled up on the walls, making
it looked diseased. Dark spirits lurked behind the blackened windows, watching
her and wishing her ill. The gears on the door handle had grown sharp and
jagged. The sheets wafting through the air hung like doorways into multiple
nightmares.

Nora grit her teeth and made herself walk forward. “Not
real,” she told herself. “Just an illusion.”

The knot in the pit of Nora’s stomach felt real, as did the
nausea that built with every step as she carefully made her way up the walk,
the crunching of her feet echoing too loudly, startling her. She tried twisting
the bracelet to see more clearly. It didn’t help. She pushed her hands into her
pockets. Touching the daisy cleared her senses and calmed her fear. She pulled
it out of her pocket, considering. Feeling silly, she waved it like a magic
wand at the building.

The illusion rippled and lessened. It still sent continuous
chills down Nora’s spine, but she made it to the door.

Waving the flower didn’t turn the handle or open the door.
The edges of the gears now looked like the teeth of a saw. Nora couldn’t touch
it without cutting herself. She moved the flower up and down, then side to
side, as she stepped closer, but nothing happened until she rubbed the petals
against the metal itself. Then the handle turned slowly, but not far enough.
She touched the petals, then the stem, to different parts of the handle, even
to the flames of the door plate, getting the most movement when she used most
of the flower. Finally she laid the daisy all the way on gears, piercing the
stem and the flower on the teeth.

The gears began to turn, chewing up the flower as the handle
turned and the door opened.

“Thank you,” Nora told the flower, saddened as it dropped to
the ground. The door had demanded a sacrifice. She shivered again, looking at
the mangled petals. That could have been her hand.

Inside, Nora stepped through the illusion of a solid floor
onto squishy carpet. It felt like stepping through shifting leaves. The smell
of mold made her eyes water. Illusion blocked the light, making everything look
underwater and dark.

Leaves and debris lay scattered on the floor in front of the
door. Wrappers, empty cups, and newspapers piled in the corners. Along the
right wall between the two windows were heaps of parts, as well as what looked
like a few complete machines. Nora could tell at a glance that they’d been built
by the fairies: They shared the same smooth lines and extra curls as the
machine Dale had worked on.

To the left stood a huge mantel. At one point it had been
painted white. Now, a
spiderweb
of black and green
mold covered it. On the ground beside it crouched another machine with many
leg-like levers around a central barrel, waiting like an insect for its prey.
Nora guessed that pressing the levers in a certain order would open the doorway
to the kingdom. She also knew she’d never figure it out; it was a Dale-type
puzzle.

Instead, Nora got out the three magnets.
Kostya
had said all magic worked in threes, and that magnets repelled fairies. She
hoped it would repel their magic as well.

First, Nora placed all three magnets on the ground in front
of the mantel. The illusion wavered, but it was still solid enough that Nora
couldn’t step through it. She tried making a triangle on the ground, but that
didn’t work. Then she placed one of the magnets up on the mantel shelf,
creating a triangle with the third point in the air. The mantel faded, and Nora
saw the stairs behind it. She forced her hand through the wood. It slid across
her skin like a cold, dead jellyfish. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself
through, being careful not to disturb the magnets. She would need to get out
this way, possibly in a hurry if she was successful.

At one point, the staircase spiraling down had been grand. White
marble made up the stairs, and the banister was made out of copper. Now, only
the center of the stairs was clear of dirt, and dull green covered the
banister. Little globs of sickly yellow light lit the sides, glowing like
radioactive dandelions.

Nora made her way deeper and deeper underground, her heart
pounding in her chest. She had no more tricks, nothing to help her save Dale.
She had to do it, though.

When Nora finally reached the bottom, she wasn’t surprised
to see that Dale hadn’t seen the true kingdom. The cottages that spread out
across the valley were in straight, ordered lines, but they looked like shacks,
with holes in the walls and roofs. Fairy lights covered the rock ceiling,
glowing with a eerie green glow, not the healthy light of the sun or stars. The
palace looked dank and dark, made out of gray rough stone, nothing like what
Nora thought a fairy palace should look like. The fountain before her, which
she suspected Dale thought flowed with clear water, was filled with dirt, the
spouts of the many turtles lining the edges of it broken off.

Muscular fairies with bare chests, carrying swords and
spears, flew up to confront Nora before she’d taken more than a few steps away
from the archway. One she recognized—he had a red jeweled eye. “Bascom,”
Nora said, calling out to him.

Bascom pulled up abruptly, as did the other fairies. They
hovered, teeth bared, glaring at her.

“I’ve promised Queen Adele not to harm her kingdom for the
day. Now, take me to my brother.”

The warriors buzzed together for a moment before Bascom flew
closer to speak to her. “We will take you to the queen.”

“Good,” Nora said. Then she added, “Thank you.”

“You will not thank us later,” Bascom warned before flying
off.

Dale hurried past the fountain, into the palace, through the
corridors, and down the stairs to the machine room. He ran his fingers along
the curling pipes before he even changed clothes. He remembered Nora doing the
same sort of thing on a finished sweater, and then ruthlessly turned his
thoughts away from his family. He used a cloth to wipe a minuscule drop of oil
from the spoke of a wheel, tested and tightened a wire just a hair. Only then
could he relax.

After Dale changed his clothes, he pulled the little fairy
machine from his backpack. He’d fully repaired it and intended it as a present
for Queen Adele. Surely he’d see her that afternoon. He’d also improved the
secondary battery system—he estimated by ten percent. He looked
critically at the bigger version, positive he could do the same with it.

Cornelius didn’t arrive until later, when Dale was already
deeply into the guts of the secondary motion works. The fairy stood in the open
doorway, speaking with two other royals—a man and a woman. They were both
tall, like Cornelius. Though Dale would have liked to meet them, for now he
called out, “Cornelius! Shut the door! Too much dust might contaminate the
machine!” Dale ran a loving hand along the part he currently held, ignoring how
the fairies exchanged long glances.

“Here early, I see,” Cornelius said, coming into the room
and finally shutting the door.

“Yes,” Dale said. “I just—I needed—” He couldn’t
articulate his longing.

“It’s all right, lad. I understand,” Cornelius said kindly.

Dale returned to work. The machine soothed him. It loved him
as much as he loved it, he was certain of that.

“You know, I thought a lot about what you said about the
machine last night, how it produced a barrier,” Cornelius said, handing Dale
the screwdriver he needed just as he required it.

“A barrier?” Dale asked, confused. Then he remembered. “Right.
A barrier.”

Cornelius clucked his tongue. “You’re a bad liar, my boy.”

Dale ducked his head. “I thought it was a barrier,” he added
defensively.

“That’s what the queen told us, eh?”

“Exactly,” Dale said with relief. “And she’s the queen.”
Dale wished again for more formal training so he could properly express his awe
of his queen.

“Yes, yes,” Cornelius said. They worked together for a while
before Cornelius quietly asked, “Do you know what the machine actually does?”

Dale nodded. He just had to tighten that series of bolts to
finish this section, make his baby more perfect.

“Aren’t you worried about it?” Cornelius asked.

“It’ll stop the electronics,” Dale said, shrugging, his
attention still focused on the machine.

“Won’t that hurt people?”

“Machines aren’t people.”

“But if they’re in a machine? Going somewhere?”

“A car?” Dale guessed. “They’d be able to steer their cars
to the side of the road,” he lied. When the power steering went out there’d be
hundreds, possibly thousands, of accidents. Would the range reach into the sky?
Would it knock airplanes down? Dale made himself think of his machine again. Those
unknown people didn’t matter to him. Just the perfection of the machine and his
ordered life.

“Aren’t you worried?”

Dale shook his head. “That will happen up there. I’ll be
down here. Safe. Busy,” he added pointedly as he picked up the next gear.

“What about your family?”

“I don’t want to talk about them,” Dale said, gritting his
teeth. Nora would be fine—she always ended up on top. His mom, she wouldn’t
be driving. Dale shook his head, denying the thought of them in danger. They’d
both be safe and would just leave him here, alone. “We need to reroute this
wire,” he told Cornelius, refusing to think more about his family. The fairies
were his family now; this room, his home.

***

Robert nervously straightened the pile of papers sitting
before him on the table. The lunch rush at the diner was over. The occasional
customer tended to order dessert this late in the afternoon. Older kids lounged
behind the counter now, but with that same hopeless air.

From his seat, Robert had a clear view of the parking lot.
He’d easily be able to spot a group of cops. Fortunately, Palace followed
Robert’s instructions and came alone. He wore his uniform, though—maybe
he was still working.

The kid behind the counter didn’t share Palace’s childlike
excitement over malts and fries. “Some people just don’t know how to have fun,”
Palace complained as he sat down at Robert’s booth. “There are very few things
that people who live to be over one hundred have in common. Not diet, exercise,
or access to health care. But family, lack of stress, and laughter—those
are essential.”

Robert sat, blinking, unsure what to say.

“So, Mr.—”

“Smith,” Robert supplied.

“Mr. Smith,” Palace said, obviously not believing the name. “What’s
made you laugh today? What’s given you cause for frivolity?”

Robert took the cop’s question seriously. When had been the
last time he’d laughed? He honestly couldn’t remember.

“Taking too long,” Palace warned. “Too bad. Guess you’re not
the laughing type.”

Robert felt judged and dismissed as unworthy. “Maybe I haven’t
laughed enough recently,” he admitted. “However, I have something that might
make us both feel better. If you can use it.”

“What’s that? Thank you,” Palace added as the counter boy
slid the fries and chocolate malt across the table. Before Robert could
continue, Palace took a sip. “Oh my word, that’s good. You have got to try
this.”

“I have,” Robert assured him. “It’s one of the reasons why I
come here.” He was going to miss this place.

“So you said you had something for me? That might make me
smile?”

“Do you still have Chris Murray in custody?”

“Yes. Why?”

Robert drew the first folder from his stack. It was a copy
of his contract, showing that the last name he’d chosen for this job really was
Smith. “He hired me to find his family,” Robert said, pointing to the
agreed tasks
section of the document.
Then he flipped to the last page and showed him Chris’ signature.

“You’re a private investigator?”

Robert knew his standing with the officer hadn’t risen
any—quite possibly, it had declined. “Yes. But I’m not licensed in this
state, which is why I couldn’t come to you more openly. I know, I know, not
really legal.”

Palace took a couple of fries to eat and sat back, obviously
displeased.

“When Chris hired me, he was adamant that all he wanted was to
bring his family back together. That was it. His wife hadn’t filed for a
divorce or a restraining order. I checked.”

“All right, so he wanted to find his family. I take it the
wife grabbed the kids and left?”

“Yes.” Robert handed over the second folder. It held a CD,
as well as a typed transcript of Chris’ admission that he was just there to
steal Dale.

Palace flipped through it quickly. “Did he make the attempt?”

Robert nodded and handed over the next file. It also had a
CD. “This shows him driving to the high school, getting there too late to take
his boy.”

Shaking his head, Palace said, “I’m not sure I can use any
of this.”

“He also tried to kidnap the girl. She was in his car when
it crashed. She ran away.”

“So I could get corroboration from her.”

“Yes.”

“I’m still not sure what I can do. Domestic dispute cases—”

“What if the wife signs not only the divorce papers, but a
restraining order? Would that help?”

“If you have any influence with the wife, then yes, she
needs to file that paperwork. Preferably last week,” Palace said, staring hard
at Robert.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Robert said quietly, understanding
what the officer asked without a word. Those papers would just have to show up.
He sighed. His bags were packed and sitting in his car. He’d planned on leaving
town after this meeting. He couldn’t risk the big bosses knowing he was still
around.

The image of the grinning skull came back to Robert. No, he
couldn’t stay. However, if he could get a copy of Denise’s signature, it wouldn’t
be too hard to fake the papers, the notarization, and backdate them. He’d do
anything to make life difficult for Chris.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” Palace said, gathering up all the
folders. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I look forward to that,” Robert said. If the officer could
find him. All the numbers on the contract were faked: the address, phone number,
and private investigator number.

Robert watched the police officer leave before he got up.
One last job to do, one last favor to use up, then it would be time for him to
disappear again.

***

Chris sat in the large, communal jail cell, finally holding
his tongue. Mama had always said his temper would get him into trouble one day.
It seemed that day had arrived. Chris hadn’t been able to stop himself from cursing
out the police officer. His car was ruined, his girl had just escaped, and he
still didn’t know what the hell had been in his backseat. He hadn’t made his
phone call yet. He didn’t know who to call.

The smell of vomit and piss wafted from the homeless guy in
the corner. Every time one of the officers came by the guy would stand up, pull
down his pants, and start yelling that the aliens were coming to get him.
Finally one of the officers shouted at him that they knew his tricks and he
wasn’t getting out until he sobered up.

The two who’d run into Chris’ car stayed to themselves on
the far side of the cell. They’d glance now and again at Chris, as if looking
for an explanation.

Chris had no idea what had happened in his car, what he’d
seen. Yes, Nora had been going on and on about magic or something. Chris didn’t
know if what he saw had been some kind of hypnotic suggestion or from the devil
himself. Every time he shut his eyes that skull loomed before him, laughing
like Mama had when he’d been small, but also looking at him like it wanted to
eat him up. Literally.

When the cops finally took the drunk away, Chris’ relief
didn’t last long. The other two came over to where Chris sat.

“Chris, right?” said the blond one. “I’m Larry. This is
Mike.”

Mike sat down heavily next to Chris. Chris
stiffened—the man was too close, their thighs almost touching. Then he
lifted his chin. A gentleman could consort with all types, even obvious
criminals, like these.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Chris said, trying to
be friendly.

The two grinned at each other. “See, I knew I already liked
you,” Larry said, nodding his head.

“Me too,” Mike said.

“Now, Chris, since we’re being good buddies and all, we have
something to admit,” Larry said. “It wasn’t just dumb luck that we were behind
you when you lost control of your car.”

“What?” Chris asked, confused.

“We were there on behalf of your friend Robert. You remember
Robert?
Weaselly
accountant-type guy?” Larry
continued.

Sweat trickled down Chris’ sides. “I have no idea who you’re
talking about,” he bluffed, standing and pushing his way past Larry.

Larry grabbed Chris’ arm before he could go very far. “You
owe Robert money,” he hissed. “We’re here to collect.”

“Let go of me,” Chris said, drawing himself up fully. He
didn’t think he could fight these two but he was a gentleman, not a coward.

Sneering, Larry released Chris. “See?” he said, holding up his
hands and backing away. “But you still owe us. And we will collect.”

“I don’t know any Robert,” Chris insisted.

“Fine, fine, deny it all you want,” Larry said easily. “We’ll
just insist on more, then. In damages.”

Mike added with cold menace. “Damages to you.”

Chris backed up to the far end of the cell and banged on the
bars. “Officer! Officer!”

Larry and Mike stayed where they were, away from Chris.

Chris didn’t want to have to go to Mama. However, he had no
choice. “I’d like my phone call now, if you don’t mind.”

***

Nora was puzzled by the disrepair in the fairy kingdom. “Why
is it all so broken down?” she asked Bascom.

The warrior glared at her for a moment. Then his hard stare
softened. “You can see,” he said softly.

Nora nodded.

“Everyone works on the great machine,” Bascom said,
spitting. “The factory runs day and night. We’re always looking for raw
materials for the machine, not for fixing our homes. We can’t spend enough time
in the fields. There’s only enough food to get by, nothing special for feast
days.”

“Do you know what the great machine does?” Nora asked.

Bascom’s look grew hard again. “It will protect us from your
kind.”

“It will kill my kind,” Nora guessed. “That’s what the
little ones do.” The one Dale had brought home had to have been a practice
piece. Both Grandpa Lewis and Dale had talked about how important it was to
have a working prototype. It was one of the reasons why Nora always knitted a
gauge swatch before starting a project.

“The queen wants it,” Bascom said, looking away. “And we
must follow her. That is the order of things.” He floated up, flying far enough
away that she could no longer talk with him.

Nora shook her head. Why were the fairies so changeable? One
moment laughing; the next, storming at her? Was it just the warriors, or all of
them?

Inside the palace were some signs that it had been maintained:
The carpets covering the floor, though worn, were clean, and the walls bore
fresh, brightly colored paint. Fairies, smaller than the warriors and dressed
in pastel colors, stared at Nora as they passed. After another staircase
leading down, the warriors led Nora past a large set of double doors to a
single smaller door that Nora had to bend over to go through.

Queen Adele stood alone in the center of the room. Work
benches covered with tools and machine parts lined the walls. The queen had
also changed clothes, into an all-white outfit, coveralls with a lace top. She
seemed surprised to see Nora. “You may go,” she told Bascom.