The Faerie Ring (19 page)

Anxious to find Rieker and Shamus and tell them the news about the return of the royal family, she hurried from the shop.

“Stay outa trouble,” Potts called after her in a gruff voice.

Tiki waved as she exited the door and skip-walked back toward the abandoned clockmaker’s shop. No sense attracting attention by running.

A large group of travelers moved in front of her, blocking the way. Tiki stepped aside to avoid colliding with them, and someone bumped into her. A burning sensation ripped down Tiki’s arm. She jerked back in pain and was shocked to recognize Larkin. Pure hate emanated from the girl’s beautiful face.

“Give me the ring.”

The words were barely audible, yet they seemed to permeate Tiki’s mind as clearly as if they’d been shouted at her. Then the group swept by and Tiki was left staring in disbelief at the back of her blond head of ringlets.

“What in bloody hell?” Tiki whispered, pushing up the ripped sleeve of her jacket to look at her arm. Several long scratches had left a trail of red, raised skin. The sharp angle of the marks immediately reminded her of the jagged wound she’d tended on Rieker’s arm.

Tiki shivered as Rieker’s warning came back to her:
Don’t talk to her. Don’t even let her know you can see her.
Tiki glanced back in the direction Larkin had gone, but her group had been swallowed up by the crowd.
She’s dangerous.

Larkin was after the ring. Tiki hesitated, fear suddenly thick in her throat, making it hard to draw a deep breath. Was Marcus nearby as well? She scanned the crowd, but if the black-haired faerie was watching her, he was hidden well. Tiki pulled her sleeve down over her stinging arm as an uneasy dread stirred in the pit of her stomach like a cauldron of bubbling stew. They didn’t know she had put the ring back in the palace. Would they attack her in search of it?

*   *   *

“O
H,
fer the love of Pete, wot’cha goin’ to do? Write the queen a letter?” Mr. Potts cackled at his own joke when Tiki asked to borrow his pen and ink. She smiled and laughed along, enjoying his unwittingly accurate guess in a perverse way. He squinted and peered close at her. “D’you know ’ow to write?”

After assuring him that she did indeed know how to form her letters, Tiki took the long, fine-pointed pen with the silver tip and the black inkwell and went to a corner in the back of the shop. After setting her tools carefully on the hard floor, she knelt and pulled out several blank pages she had torn from the back of a Grimm Brothers faerie tale book they had stashed at their home. Shamus had snitched it for her and Fiona as a Christmas gift last year. Once she’d smoothed the fold out of the paper, she laid it on the floor and picked up the pen.

She’d hardly slept the last few nights, worrying about Rieker’s insistence that they had to get the ring out of Buckingham again. Even though she hadn’t seen him for a few days, she was sure he would soon be back around, pestering her about the ring again. Now Larkin was threatening her. Attacking her, really.

The only logical thing to do was to claim the reward for the ring and return the thing to the royals, putting the truce safely back in their hands. The sooner the better. Then she and Clara and the others could move out of Charing Cross to a place where the faeries could never find them again.

Tiki got down on her knees and leaned over the page.

Now what to say?

Dear Sirs? Dear Madam? Dear Queen Victoria? Tiki’s hands were clammy as she clutched the pen. Nothing sounded right.

Making up her mind, Tiki dipped the tip into the black ink. She pulled the pen out and realized she needed to blot the tip. She spied an old newspaper and reached for it, trying not to drip. Mr. Potts would have a conniption if she got ink on his floor. She slid the paper over and firmly planted the tip on the page, causing a large dot of black ink to spread in a circle from the end of the pen. Satisfied, Tiki lifted the silver point and started scratching letters across the page.

To Captain Davis-Smith:

I am in possession of the missing item. I would like to collect the reward which has been posted but I do not seek attention and would like to keep my identity a secret. For that reason, please leave the reward in a large black bag,

Tiki paused and chewed on the wooden end of the pen handle. Where was a safe place to leave the reward? She knew from watching the hordes of people constantly moving through the railway station that everybody carried black bags. That would be the easiest way to hide and move the reward. But where to leave it so the police wouldn’t catch her picking it up?

An idea struck her, and she leaned forward to finish the note. Satisfied, Tiki blew gently on the page to dry the ink. She could hear Potts’s slow footsteps shuffling her way.

“All done,” she said brightly, jumping up with the pen and inkwell in her hand. “Where do you want me to put these?”

“Eh? Oh, well, put ’em back ’ere on the front desk.” Potts stopped and peered down the hallway at her. “Got yer letter written, then?”

“Yes, thanks.” Tiki smiled at the old man as she hurried by him to put the pen and ink on the desk. When she turned back, she was horrified to see him bending down to read her letter, which lay drying on the floor.

Tiki ran down the narrow passageway and turned sideways to scoot past Mr. Potts, bumping him with her sore arm as she did. “S’cuse me,” she squeaked as she swept the page from the floor.

“Who’d you write to?” His eyes followed the page in Tiki’s hand.

“Oh, just a note to an aunt who lives up in Liverpool,” Tiki said. “I lost her address but thought I’d try anyway.”

“What aunt in Liverpool?” another voice asked.

Startled, Tiki turned toward the dark shadow near the door.

“What are you doing here?” Tiki slid the paper inside her jacket and prayed that the ink was dry and wouldn’t smudge.

“Looking for you.” Rieker backed up so Mr. Potts and Tiki could move into the main part of the little shop.

“Lookin’ for a book, you say?” Mr. Potts eyed Rieker up and down with a frown. “Or you want a daily today?”

Rieker’s hair was brushed back from his face, and a dimple peeked from one side of his cheek as he smiled at the old man. “I am looking for a book. What do you recommend?”

Tiki’s stomach fluttered with an unfamiliar feeling. It surprised her that Rieker could be so charming at times.

“Oh, well, hmmm…” The old man cleared his throat. “’Ow’s about this one?” He pulled a copy of
Oliver Twist
from the shelf. “Seems like it might be a story you’d enjoy.”

Tiki pressed her lips together to hide a smile as she read the title. She knew the story of Oliver, an orphan boy who got caught up with a band of pickpockets. Her eyes darted to Rieker’s face to watch his reaction. Did he have any idea of Potts’s insult?

Rieker reached for the book and eyed the title. “Yes, this looks good. I’ve heard of this chap Dickens. What’s it about?” He looked to the old man for an explanation.

Potts cleared his throat and cast rheumy eyes on Rieker’s tall form. “’Bout a boy, grew up ’ere in London. Falls in with a bunch of ruffians. Bad news.”

“Sounds interesting.” Rieker grinned at Potts. “How much?”

“One shilling, sixpence, and no IOUs,” Potts mumbled. He appeared surprised at Rieker’s willingness and ability to purchase.

Rieker reached into his pocket and Tiki could hear a jingle of coins as he pulled out a handful. He picked out a silver shilling and six copper pennies and handed them over to Potts. “Maybe I can get Tiki to read it to me.”

“She’s a reader, that girl,” Potts said over his shoulder as he shuffled to the counter to lock his money away.

Rieker smiled over at Tiki. “Yes, but does she know the story of Oliver Twist?” His eyes twinkled, and Tiki had the sudden suspicion that Rieker had already read the book he had just purchased. “It has a happy ending, you know,” he whispered, too low for Potts to hear.

So Rieker could read, too, she thought. Not a surprise, really, given his posh diction. Still, it made her wonder what other secrets he might have.

“Ready?” Rieker asked. He escorted Tiki to the door of the small shop, and Tiki could feel Mr. Potts’s eyes watching the two of them as they left.

“Thanks, Mr. Potts.” Tiki waved over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

The old man waved a gnarled hand and turned back to straighten his stacks of newspapers.

“How did you know I was in there?” Tiki asked, suddenly suspicious.

Rieker shrugged, putting the book inside his jacket and sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Just a lucky guess. What were you doing in the back?”

Tiki hesitated. Somehow she needed to convince Rieker that it would be better to give the ring back to the royals so they could protect it again.

“I wrote out the note to the royals,” Tiki said quickly. “You know, the one for the reward.” She held her breath as she waited for Rieker’s reaction.

Rieker didn’t reply. He was silent as they walked, his eyes staring off into the distance. Tiki wondered if he was angry. The farther they walked, the more uncomfortable she got. Finally she stopped and tugged at his arm, forcing him to turn and face her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tiki…” He sounded as if he were forcing himself to stay calm. “We can’t collect the reward if we’re not going to return the ring. Like I said before, I think the fey have infiltrated the royal circle. Right now, we don’t know who we can trust and who we can’t. If we tell the royal family where the ring is, its location could be revealed to the fey. We can’t take that chance.” Rieker gave her a pleading look. “Can’t you see, we just have to go back in and get the thing and let the reward go?”

“I am
not
letting the reward go.” Tiki was horrified at his suggestion. “Can’t you see that is the only way I can bring Clara home?” She could hear the hysterical note in her voice, but she couldn’t stop. “I have to be able to
have
a home. Someplace clean and warm where she won’t keep getting sick.”

“Why is she your responsibility?”

“Because she doesn’t have anybody else,” Tiki snapped. “She was lying in a pile of trash on the street when I found her. She was almost dead. She would have died if I hadn’t fed her and cared for her.” Tiki gritted her teeth to fight back the tears that suddenly pressed against her eyes.

“What if Shamus and Fiona had said the same thing about me when I was forced to run away? Even though I didn’t know how to survive on my own, I couldn’t stay with my uncle one day longer. He would drink and then he’d want to touch me—” She stopped abruptly. She didn’t want to think about him. Her voice got louder. “If Fiona hadn’t shown me how to pick a pocket, I probably would have starved to death that first month. Or been forced into being a beggar or a prostitute to feed myself.”

“Tiki, calm down.”

She took a deep breath and lowered her voice, but the urgency remained. “Even then, I barely survived. If they hadn’t let me live with them in Charing Cross, I might be the one lying in a pile of garbage today, half-dead.” Her anger fueled her nerve. “Look around you, Rieker. Can’t you see all the children who need help?” She flung out an arm. “They’re everywhere. Toots’ own mother threw him out when he was only nine years old because she couldn’t afford to feed him anymore. She had too many other children to care for. If their parents can’t or won’t do it, then who cares for the street children? Somebody’s got to care.”

Incensed at his lack of understanding, Tiki jerked around and started to walk away, but Rieker’s hand shot out lightning fast and grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Tiki, wait…” As his fingers pressed against the cut on her arm, Tiki gasped with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Rieker looked down at her sleeve as if he already knew what he’d find. His grip tightened around her wrist, below the cuts, and his eyes locked on hers with a knowing look. Tiki wanted to pull away but doubted she could with Rieker holding her wrist so tight.

“You’re making a scene,” she said through clenched teeth. She looked around self-consciously and tugged on his arm to try to get him moving again. He didn’t budge.

“Where was she?” Rieker asked.

“Here in Charing Cross,” Tiki finally admitted. “I was walking from Mr. Potts’ shop.” Tiki shrugged as if the encounter had been nothing, even though her stomach was grinding uncomfortably.

“This was no accident, Tiki.” Rieker sounded furious. “Larkin must know you’re involved. Did she say anything?”

Tiki’s eyes met his. “She said she wants the ring.”

“No,” he whispered.

For a second, the emotionless expression that Rieker so often wore cracked and Tiki caught a glimpse of something that looked like desperation.

“That’s the other reason why I think we need to send the ransom note to the royals,” Tiki said hurriedly. “That way the fey will stop following me.”

Rieker’s hand slid from her wrist to her hand, and his fingers entwined in hers. Before she could move, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. Instead of being afraid, Tiki felt an odd sense of safety.

“Tiki, I understand why you want to protect Clara and the others. I really do,” he said softly, his lips against her hair. “It’s the same reason I want to protect you.”

Her head rested against his chest and she could hear the slow beat of his heart. She inhaled his scent and closed her eyes, a strange yearning pulling deep inside. If only she could trust him.

“But you don’t understand what’s been done.” His words were firmer now. “It’s not so simple as just giving the ring back. It needs to be protected.” He grasped her by the shoulders and held her away from him. “We can’t take the chance that there is a faerie spy within the royal circle.” He gave her a little shake. His eyes were dark, intense. “Don’t you see? If the truce is destroyed, there’s no going back. Ever.”

A surge of anger shot through her, and she jerked free from his grasp. “And don’t
you
see? I’ll never have another opportunity like this to get us out of Charing Cross. I have to pay the hospital, I have to find someplace clean to live. I have to find food for my family. I
have
to get that reward.”