Troll Or Derby, A Fairy Wicked Tale (22 page)

I don’t know what drew me to the store, exactly—maybe the fact that it was heated and I was not? I dunno. There weren’t too many other buildings around, and I wasn’t sure where I’d find McJagger, or even if I’d managed to land in the right place. Another car pulled into the Big Blue parking lot, and a stocky man in a plaid flannel coat and a John Deere hat went into the store. I followed him.

Crossing the two-lane county highway was no sweat. Even though the speed limit was 60 miles per hour on it, nothing was coming but an old tractor that couldn’t have been going any faster than 15, anyway. I skated across and straight through the automatic door.

The smell of cedar and farm animals washed over me. So familiar. A few squawks and tweets, and I’d located the cages of baby ducks and chicks. I couldn’t help myself, and skated over to them to have a look. There were so many, and despite the smell of chicken poop, they were adorable. A couple of large cages on the floor held bunnies, and I got down on my toe stops to look at them, too. I’d always wanted a bunny. Maybe someday.
Would I ever have a home of my own, and time for a pet? Not if I didn’t find Gennifer.
I had to find my sister, get my life back.

“Can I help you?”

The voice startled me, and I almost fell off my skates. I stood up in a hurry.

“Uh, normally we don’t allow skates or Heelies in here, Miss,” she said. She was about my age—maybe a year or two older, and she had long, silky hair. It was so blonde, it was practically silver. She wore it down, and it lay in perfectly straight sheets of platinum over her flannel shirt and bright blue apron. She reminded me of those little plastic versions of porcelain dolls they include with Happy Meals at McDonald’s. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and I saw she was wearing an enormous ring—a silver skull with ruby eyes.

I glanced at her nametag.

Big Blue Store - April - May I Help You?

“April, do me a favor, okay?” I said.

She smiled. “If I can.”

“This is going to sound crazy, but I’m looking for a roller derby team.”

April looked over her shoulder, and then made a sweeping glance around the store. Two farmers were whooping it up in the PVC pipe aisle, their hands thrust deeply into their own pockets, one of them rocking on his heels. Her gaze lingered their direction for a moment, then she faced me and squinted.

“You do know you’re at a feed store, right?”

I nodded.

“And that we carry farm supplies.”

I nodded again, feeling like a complete idiot. I could feel my face flushing, and I shoved my shaking hands into my own pockets. I was sick with embarrassment.

Then April winked, and her nose wrinkled in such cuteness that I couldn’t breathe. She leaned in close, and whispered into my ear. “When you go back outside, you’ll see a building across the street. Don’t go inside without me. Wait outside—no matter who comes out to ask you in, and no matter what they say.” The skin on my neck tingled and I heard the echo of faint musical undertones in her voice.

She leaned away, smiling. I was dumbstruck, and must have looked it, because she laughed at the expression on my face.

For a second, I saw a flicker of tusks and wings, and a tiny set of horns protruding through her flawless hair. She gestured to her feet, and I saw a set of hooves on skates. I blinked and tried to look again, but her feet had changed. Now she wore work boots.
Dickies
.

“I get it, April.” I didn’t know what to say. I hoped that passed for cool.

She walked back to the entrance of the store, and I followed, passing a huge rack of specialty candy on the way. A dozen flavors of brightly-colored licorice were piled high. My stomach growled. “I don’t guess you’d let me have some of this candy, would you?”

She smiled. “If you’re hungry, I can offer you something.”

Never eat or drink anything offered by your fairy kin. Madame Zelda’s advice. Harlow had said the same thing—but could I trust him?

“This licorice just looks so good,” I said. “Blue raspberry’s my favorite.”

April laughed. “It
is
good,” she said. She winked at me, and I felt like I might not breathe ever again. “Go ahead, take a bag,” she whispered.

When I skated back out the door, I couldn’t miss what was across the street. Flashing lights, neon signs, loud music, and a parking lot full of creatures and vehicles the likes of which I’d never seen. It was a bit like watching one of the remade Star Wars movies, with all the added CGI creatures running around Jabba’s lair, or clumsily inserted into the cantina scene. An enormous sign elevated above the roof of a large concrete block church read
Bingo Hall
.

I squinted, and realized I could detect the glamour if I chose—an old metal farm silo, a dilapidated barn, and a small abandoned farmhouse were situated behind the casino. With the glamour on, the building looked like a run-of-the-mill concrete block church. Typical country stuff, to the mortal eye.

When I stopped squinting, I saw the lay of the land for what it really was. It was a lot to take in. Squinting. Not squinting. Squinting again.

I opened the bag of blue licorice and shoved a couple of the whips into my mouth. Where I was going, it wouldn’t matter if my tongue or teeth were blue. I was sure to see a lot worse.

Bells rang faintly in the foreground, along with laughter both high-pitched and guttural. Was that someone crying, or the sound of kittens mewing? I could smell urine, beer, and blood—all under a haze of incense. A clacking sound, like carnival rides. Sizzling. People clapping, someone shouting—and the sound of wheels clattering on a wooden rink floor.

And I hadn’t even crossed the street yet.

Chapter 25.5

Badabbaday, Badabbadabbaday, Hey!

Harlow

Interrogating a pixie isn’t as fun as it sounds. I tried to keep it nice, but the little guys are vicious biters, and I may have squished one.

I know, I know, it’s horrible. Every day I find Disneyfied pixie stuff in the landfill. A smiling little blonde gal dressed in green, totally enamored of Peter Pan, spreading cheer with each tinkly step. As if.

Most pixies are as considerate as a horde of fleas, as lighthearted as an angry hornet, and unless you’ve got them under a spell or well-bribed, they don’t give a moment’s pause for anyone else’s well-being but their own.

Oh, yeah, and the reason Peter Pan can fly? High on faeth. Totally. Don’t kid yourself.

The only thing you’ve heard about pixies that’s actually true is that you
can
clap them back to life. The question is, knowing what you do about them, would you want to?

But I digress. Yet again.

There were three pixies in that jar. Their names? Oh, you’ll like this. Tony, Toni, and Toné. Yes, really.

I learned a lot from them. Not exactly what I wanted to learn, but still …

Tony was from Oakland, California. Toni was fond of peaches, and of Tony. Or maybe she was calling Tony “Peaches.” It wasn’t all that clear, between the “tick tocks” and the random biographical information they were throwing at me between my questions.

Toné wet himself a lot.

What a joy they were, all squeaks and grunts, bites and tinkles. ‹/sarcasm›

If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say “Tinkerbell” was a frequent wetter, herself.

Finally, I held Toni over my open mouth. I thought that if I had to eat one of them to show the others I meant business, I should probably forego the one with the incontinence issues, and go straight for the one that was most likely to taste like fruit.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you what you need to know, giant!” It was Toné who spoke, surprising me. “Just put my sister down.”

Pixies aren’t exactly sister/brother, by the way. More like hivemates.

“Whatever,” I said, sitting her down on the table, before placing a glass jar over her.

“Get talking, before the air runs out in there,” I said to Toné.

Deb had several hours’ head start, but that wasn’t what concerned me most, once they told me where she’d gone. They really just confirmed my suspicions, anyway.

After years of hiding out from McJagger and tailing Dave for my own protection, I was going to have to walk into the ogre’s den, like it or not.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I Believe I Can Fly

Deb

I don’t know how long I stood outside waiting for April. When she came out, it didn’t matter. I’d have waited a year to see her again.

She took one look at my hands and broke into giggles, her horns showing through the glamour again.

My hands were sticky and blue, and all the licorice was gone, except for one piece.

“A little messier than Twizzlers,” I said.

She grinned, looking simultaneously mischievious and angelic. “Those weren’t Twizzlers, hon,” she said. But the way she winked when she said it was so appealing, I didn’t care.

Could I trust her? A part of my mind wondered if Harlow would find me. What had I done? What if I needed him? A part of me screamed that I didn’t need him to rescue me. That I didn’t need anyone. I was the girl who took care of my alcoholic mother and my druggie sister—surely I could take care of myself, for once.

I threw the empty licorice bag on the ground. No, wait, there was one piece, and something on it was reflecting light back at me. I bent to have a look.
A golden ring. What a weird thing to find on a piece of candy.
I shoved the whole thing into my pocket, wrapper and all—maybe I’d ask April about it later, or find a trash can, anyway.

“Take me to your leader,” I said.

April took off like a shot, gliding on her skates over the asphalt as if it were a smooth rink floor. I didn’t hesitate—I just took off after her. It felt so good to skate, I didn’t mind the bumpy texture of the road beneath my wheels. I felt a breeze as I got up some speed, and we careened around the crowded parking lot outside the Bingo Hall. I heated up so much, I threw my jacket on the ground. Some creatures—fairies and trolls, and others I wasn’t sure about—rushed over and whisked it away, immediately, one pressing it to its face as if the smell were intoxicating.

Skating outside on the county roads had made me strong, and dodging traffic in town had made me fast, for sure. There’d never been anyone who could keep up with me at the Coach’s rink. But I could barely keep up with April now, as she dodged creatures with multiple arms and legs, then jumped several feet in the air above a cart full of what looked and smelled like pickled human body parts.

She landed, so light on her feet it was jaw-dropping. She twirled on one leg and skated backward to me like she wanted to chat me up, but I wasn’t going to stand still.

I skated backward, as well, building up speed as I went. I flipped around front-ways and pushed hard into the stride, running as hard as I could in my skates. Up, up the handicapped ramp outside the Bingo Hall.

I don’t think McJagger’s is accountable to the Americans with Disabilities Act, per se, but wasn’t that thoughtful of him?

I wanted to keep sailing upward, off the ramp and into the night sky. Flap. Flap, fly!

And then I felt them—wings.
My
wings. My shirt squeezed tight around me, then tore in two, and in an instant, I was topless except for my sports bra, the cold night air wicking away my sweat, my whole body trembling as I took my first flight.

Or, my first series of falls. It was kind of like getting a kite into the air on a mildly breezy day. I was up and then I was down, skinning my knees and elbows on the parking lot. I’d skate a few steps, then go aloft once more.

“Fly!” I shouted, and the wings—
my
wings—grabbed air hard. I hung three feet above the ground before I landed on the rail of the handicapped ramp. I hit my hip, hard, but I didn’t want April to know. I grabbed the rail and sat, hoping I could pass this off as an Urkel moment. Wasn’t he the guy who said, “I mean to do that”? Or maybe that was Pee Wee Herman. Anyway, some geek from TV reruns said it. Now it was my turn to play geek.